This is an up-to-date entry, which I will add from time to time, just to keep this blog " interesting" So it is not just a rehashing of the old Wagblog but an ongoing "live"blog as well.
That said, I am -- unbeknownst to almost everyone in my life but one on-line friend and my father, who may discount it -- under a lot of stress right now. I have to visit an elderly friend two to three times a week and make sure he is not alone too much and then see my best friend, Joe, in the hospital, where he lives on a ventilator, paralyzed with Lou Gehrig's disease. I enjoy these visits but they are also time consuming and they take me away from my apartment, which is where I like to hole up and be by myself, doing artwork or writing. Now I have a lot less time for that, which is a source of stress too. But the biggest stress is having gained about 10 pounds.
Having finally lost a lot of Zyprexa-induced poundage, I have a horror of getting fat again, so weight gain is a very "fraught" issue for me, especially because the voices go haywire when I am very upset and start in on me. "Lardass! Fatso! Pig!" they'll scream, and They tell me I'll always be fat and never lose the weight...and then if I don't lose it fast, They start, well, getting dangerous to me. Their orders can be very specific, and I do not want to go into most of them here, only to say that once there was a man in the BioHazard sign, a red, dancing man who told me to immolate myself in a very very detailed, specific way. That time I had to have ECT just to end that cycle. I still don't know if ECT worked or if it just killed the brain cells enough that I forgot about him...But to this day the biohazard sign still gives me the heebie jeebies...
As to the weight gain, I feel guilty, so I feel I can't speak of it out loud. I feel that it is my fault, so who am I to moan and groan? It's my bed, so I must lie in it, right? A better person would not be in this mess...So grin and bear it but let no one know that it matters, especially because they will always say something to me anyway. I don't know why everyone always feels they have a right to mention the fact that I have gained weight! I would NEVER say such a thing to them or to ANY other person. IN fact I never comment on any other person's body...Yet it seems that everyone has a proprietary interest in mine, and feels that they have the right and duty to comment on it, even to the point of commenting on what I must weigh. So you can imagine how painful it is for me to be seen in public...
They comment though, those people who hate me, I can understand why they do, they have no reason to remain civil. They are supposed to keep me in line. My doc told me, I am supposed to remember this, but I keep forgetting it, that They are me, but I do not think so, I think They are They, frankly...No, They are me, they are me, they are me. I make the Rules. But I still feel guilty and fat and wrong wrong wrong wrong...
The problem is that I had to bake cookies twice, actually 6 times for 2 parties this Christmas. I made 3 different kinds for each party, and so I had 6 different baking sessions. Now I usually eat very healthily, and I do not ordinarily enjoy cookies, but homemade and mine, I do. So I have been eating quite a few, hence the added pounds. But that is whence the guilt as well. It is MY fault and so I have no leg to stand on but my own two crooked ones, and they must do. Now I dread going to my own family Christmas party with the final batch of cookies. Though the platter will bring much cheer, I must be seen to carry them inside. I dread this so much that I feel sick... In fact, I have been physically ill for the past three days as if my body were trying to give me an excuse not to go. Alas, I must. I promised to bring along four "orphans" as well: three other middle-agers and one elderly without family to the party of the one with a family still. I do not begrudge them their Christmas, only wish I did not have to attend it myself. I'm sorry, I'm simply that awful!
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