I want to take off my fat suit

I’ve decided I’ll give blogging another try. Although, I may not be terribly entertaining because I’m quite in control of myself.

My meds are working well, I’m not a zombie, I am feeling, but not constantly feeling extremes. It’s pretty cool.

BUT. BUT. I’m big. I don’t like to name call, but the first time I typed that, I typed “fat”. I’ll break it down, and spill some embarrassing numbers:

I graduated high school in the 150s

I got married just under 200

I gave birth to my 1st child @ 214

I got down to 155 when I was manic

And now I’m 206

Oh gosh I hope my husband pretends he didn’t see this because I haven’t even admitted this to him, and he knows everything!! (But honestly, he’s seen me naked lots of times at this weight so idk what it matters)

I don’t understand what’s so hard about losing weight. I think I may have multiple issues facing me right now: slight depression, laziness (ill blame it on the depression…), and not understanding HOW to lose the weight.

I know that last one sounds silly. Watch what you eat and exercise. Bam. It’s just, losing weight is so closely tied with my manic episode that the thought of it makes me uncomfortable.

Hypersexuality has always been a huge part of my life, and losing weight and starting to think that I “look good” will bring it back. It is the hardest part of me to fight.

I don’t know how to fight it. Lock myself in a bathroom? Scratch myself until I stop? (I used to self harm when I would feel extreme emotions as a teen but it never got serious). I could do what I think I’m doing now and just make myself undesirable.

How do you handle your HS? Idk if you all feel like I do, but I’m like a cat in heat and on the prowl. It’s deplorable.

I could set out knowing it will return, and then face it head on. Call the psych and see if we could do a med change to battle it? I think that’s what I’ll do. I think I will give the hypersexuality a face, do a little bit of personification. I think that might make it easier to confront. It will be a war, but I never enter one I know I won’t win! I HAVE to make myself healthier, and a better person for my kids.

Those Dunkin Donuts in the fridge as sooooo calling my name.

I always figure out so much when I blog đŸ™‚ Thanks for listening!! Your experience, thoughts, and advice are welcomed!


The next 4 weeks may be the longest I’ve had for a while. My therapist is going on vacation. Now, SHE SAID it’s only for 2 weeks. But when I went to make my next appointment at the front desk, they set me up for 4 weeks. I may call tomorrow and say “WTF?” 

She actually said to me about a month ago, when I walked into the office, “I’ve been thinking about you…”.

Really? You don’t just leave all your nut cases at the door when you leave? I didn’t expect her to actually think about me.I mean, we’ve been talking now for 3.5 years, I suppose it’s only natural.

She looked kinda worried to send me on my way today, alone during her vacation. Probably because I spilled the beans on some self-harming thoughts I was having this week. I told her it was like a self-harm cloud hanging over my head. No specific thoughts, like when I was pregnant 2 years ago and thought about stabbing myself in the uterus and then throwing myself out the window.

I mean, geez, I’m not that crazy.


No, it was just a cloud. Hangin out. Suggesting that life is getting just a little too hard. I’ve been fighting too hard for too long. Time to give up just a little. It’ll feel better. It’ll release the stress and the pain. Maybe not forever, but at least for a little while, and that’s better than nothing. That little cloud offered a hug.

I was present enough to realize that would not be for the best. I muscled through that urge by reminding myself that my husband doesn’t need anything else to deal with right now. He has enough troubles, I have enough troubles, and I don’t need one more thing on my list of crap to tell my children when they’re old enough.

I can’t guarantee I’ll always be present enough to make that decision.

She reminded me that if I ever feel like that, to call the psychiatrist I see there, and/or to go to the hospital. She actually suggested a hospital. I was stunned.

Um, me? What?

Thinking about me, checking myself in. How does one even do that? Or rather, how does one handle the concept that they just had to do that?