Weight

I was a chubby baby apparently, according to my mother.  A very health 8lbs something.  I was never a skinny or slender child, I was always a bit chubby or chunky.  I was also one of the tallest girls in my class, and one of the strongest.  I was never fast, but I could out-throw anyone else my age (girls, of course, not boys).  I was a tom-boy.  I'd rather knock a wall down than play with dolls - though I did play with dolls when it was raining.  Children were nasty, as children are, and I was called ten-tonne tessy and various other nasty nicknames.  I didn't actually understand why I was being called these things.  OK, so I wasn't fast, but I had reasonable endurance and my upper body strength was not at all bad.  But call someone nasty names for long enough & the message spills through into the subconscious & you'll not even realise it's happening until you look back years/decades later and by then the reprogramming is so terribly hard.

At High School we had our "medical".  I was one of 3 people in my year who was overweight, according to those stupid tables.  So I went on a diet.  I lost weight, I also (because of the diet & my over reliance on ski yogurt) developed migraines related to milk.  It took a year of visits to doctors and opticians etc before my sis said, one day, maybe it's milk.  I stopped all milk related products and, within two weeks, was headache free.  I was 14, I was supposed to be sitting the first of the important scholastic exams and I had to do it with a migraine every single hour of every single day.  Somehow, I managed to acquit myself beyond the expectations of my teachers.

I didn't put much weight on, but I was never skinny, I was never my "ideal" weight.  Once, at a local weight watchers meeting I was criticised for "only" having lost 2 lbs that week.  And it was quite the nasty dig, it wasn't just a passing comment.  I was confused.  I thought the loss of 2lbs in a week was quite the respectable weight loss - but not according to the bitch who ran the club.  I never went back.

My first job out of school, after 9 long months of unemployment, was as a filing clerk in the local tax office.  It was not at all what I had hoped for as a job.  It was incredibly demeaning and I ended up with a boss who felt I never worked fast enough.  I never did it quite as well as he wanted.  The file room was never as orderly or as tidy as it should have been for his tastes.  I remember once he came in and one of the filing cubby holes for one of the inspectors was still full (and this was after lunch).  I got a tongue lashing for not having done my job.  I pointed out that this particular inspector had asked me to keep his files back and deliver them mid-afternoon.  Another tongue lashing & I was sent to deliver the files.  The inspector gave me a tongue lashing because I hadn't done what he wanted.  I was caught in a territorial war between 2 men and I couldn't escape.  I ended up unable to eat more than a mouthful or two of food at any sitting, regardless of how hungry I was.  I ended up skinny, weak and ill.  No one could find a reason.

So I tried changing careers.  I tried to join the Navy but, guess what, despite being the lightest weight I had ever been, I was still too heavy for the Navy.  That plus being shown a film where it was obvious I would be expected to run after officers . . .  well.  I've never been the subservient type.

Depression followed, not that it was recognised or diagnosed or treated.

I did eventually find another job.  It was a pointless typist post (before the days of computers).  It was full of incredibly vain people and I was told I needed to go back to school to get my Higher English because I couldn't spell a word that wasn't even English!  Higher English has nothing to do with spelling - but they just wanted an excuse, I didn't give them one, I just left.  I eventually found myself temping for a holiday cottage company. A small outfit, one where I actually got to do a whole range of things, instead of being tied to just typing or just filing.  My weight stabilised.  I found a company, in 1987, which offered diet sheets.  I paid the fee, studied the notes and got stuck in.  I lost weight.  I felt not bad about myself and my situation.  I could wear size 16 jeans AND get my hands down between my skin and the waistband!!!!  I was so proud of myself.  I still wasn't skinny, but my size was extremely comfy.

Then that job went pear-shaped, I put a wee bit of weight on as I retrained in massage therapy, reflexology and aromatherapy.  But, after finding that men wanted sex with their massage, after nearly being raped by an obnoxious business owner, my dream went south and I went back to a 9 - 5 typing job.

That lasted 9 months (being a maternity cover post).  And I went back to holiday cottage rentals - a massive mistake.  The biggest mistake I ever made in my work career, aside from not taking the opportunity to go to university in Aberdeen and train to be a physio-therapist.  I got fired to make way for the business owner's obnoxious, stuck up daughter.  I was not unduly upset to hear the business subsequently went bust a few months after I'd been fired.

Then came 19 years of being trapped in one large organisation.  2 more serious bouts of depression followed.  I was caged, trapped, a tiny little wheel in a massive behemouth which did not value intelligence or capabaility.  In the entire time I was in that organisation I only ever had 2 bosses who gave a shit about me as a person and actually treated me in a reasonable manner and allowed me to stretch and develop.

The weight piled on.

My personal life was crap too.

Debt issues followed.

More weight went on.  More depression.

Dad tried various emotional blackmail techniques - nice one dad.

I couldn't see a way out and no one seemed to want to help me.  They all just wanted to tell me I was worthless because I was overweight.  I needed to lose weight - how I would ask, but I got no helpful answers.  How do I deal with all this shit?  How do I cope with it and find ways to keep the right mindset to loose weight?

7 years ago I got sick.  My body refused to function properly.  As I grew slower and slower, more and more weight piled on.  Yet another bully appeared in my professional life.  He had friends in the management structure so there was no support for me.  Eventually I went to HR who went to management and the ONLY solution was the  bully was told to stay away from me.  I survived his jibes and taunts for 4 years before management changed and, suddenly, he was being held to account.  But, by then, I was incapable of enjoying the victory - I just needed rest, peace and quiet.  Not that I ever got it.

In January  2013 I broke my heel. Fragments of the bone lodged at the base of my Achilles tendon.   That kind of pain doesn't help mobility either.  The summer of 2013 I finally got to see a surgeon - the forms I had been sent suggested a surgical procedure to correct the issue was imminent.  I knew that my weight would count against me.  So I hunted high & low for the diet sheets I'd used when I was 20/21.  I found them!!  much to my utter astonishment.  I embarked upon the diet.  The first week is so incredibly hard, the 2nd week very hard, the 3rd week hard and then it gets a bit easier.  I lost 3 stone in weight.  I went to see the surgeon and I was met with such an arrogant dismissive attitude that I just said "fuck it".  No medical intervention was forth coming, I was stuck.  I dropped the diet, why stress myself even more?

I eventually got a "boot" to wear & it did help but the tightness of it, the damage it did to the tissues of my leg, brought me my first brush with cellulitis.  I was on antibiotics for 6 weeks the first time.  I was lucky, I didn't end up in hospital on a drip!  I can't wear the boot any more.

I grew impervious to the constant "obese" comments.  I was coping with chronic pain, chronic illness, a malfunctioning gut, a broken heel, a lack of a paying job, and caring for elderly parents who were (are) going down hill steadily.  I stopped looking at myself in any mirror, aside from face washing and hair brushing.

Folic acid helps - I still get down, but I haven't been clinically depressed since I started taking extra folic acid about 2 years ago.

So, why am I back on a diet now, 2 years after the last attempt?  To be honest, I don't know.  The trigger is not something which has a conscious flag to it.  How long will it last? I have no idea.  I'd like to think that I'll get down to a size 20/22, a realistic notion.  I'd still be overweight but I'd be about 75 kg better than I am at the moment & that's scary.

Threatening dire health warnings about weight related issues don't really wash - potential future issues are very dim compared to problems right now.  No, weighing less won't solve my money issues, my stress over caring issues, my stress over professionals being less than ideal.  No, weighing less won't cure my fibro or my pernicious anaemia or anything else I have health wise.  BUT I might just not mind looking at myself in a mirror.

So, if you see someone who's over weight, don't just think they're lazy or gluttons - there might well be a long & convoluted tale behind why they are the way they are.

Officialdom

Years ago, I worked for the local Social Work department, as a clerical/admin/departmental secretary.  When I worked in Social Work I didn't understand why anyone would refuse the help the SW could provide, or refuse to provide the information requested by SW to do their jobs.  And, during my time of transcribing reports and action plans, I learned the buzz words.

Now, over a decade later, I once again realise why I'd rather not be involved with SW if at all possible.  When I first organised for homecare for mum, after I'd torn ligaments and muscles in my shoulder and chest and my sis had done had back in, it was almost a relief to get help, to have someone else around who could do the helping to wash/shower/toilet and dress (but not lift if Mum fell, oh no, that was still on me/us).  They provided us with a proper bed for Mum, proper aids and helped with adapting the bathroom so it was more "mother" friendly.  But I also had to fight.  It was inferred that because Mum was 80, at the time (she's now 83) it was a waste of SW resources to do much of anything except provide a profile bed.  I know they're not allowed to say such things, or to imply it - that's ageism.  So  I used what I knew and I managed to argue for the things Mum needed.

Free Personal Care is only available in Scotland, it's not means tested.  It is funded by the Scottish government through local authorities.  So, to access it, one has to go through the local authority.

In April this year we had our first "review".  Three years after care started.  I thought it had gone quite well but then we got the paperwork through and, oh my, the emotive language and statements.  And, the presumption that I would provide to Social Work, simply for their records and no other reason, full disclosure of our household finances.  Nosey buggers is the politest response.  The paperwork is horrendous.  The "support plan" is ridiculous - no one from Social Work contacts me to find out how I'm managing as primary carer.  No one from Social Work offers me the slightest bit of useful help and yet, according to their action plan I am fully supported....  Yes, I could contact SW myself but, with no named worker, I'd have to explain again and again and again and again the situation and what I needed.  Have you ever tried condensing 15 years of issues into 3 or 4 sentences without leaving out a vital piece of information?  It's like when Mum, or dad, gets admitted to hospital.  You explain 3 or 4 times to different people (all of whom write it down) what's wrong.  It gets to feel as though they're trying to trip you up, make you admit something or reveal something which would all them to refuse treatment.  It's an absolutely awful set of circumstances and yet you're not permitted to express anger or frustration because "they're only doing their jobs" - aye right!  Yer no readin' the notes, so are ye really daeing yer job?!!

Now, 6 months after the initial review, we get through the amended copy.  It does read a lot better.  I have refused, point blank, to deal with their financial assessment - Free Personal Care is still free, the charge for equipment has been paused (& no one knows how long for), and was to be a flat fee, not means tested - so there is no reason for anyone in SW to know our finances.  Makes me sound like I'm hiding something, lol.  I'm not.  I just refuse to do the work because someone is being curious.

Being a carer is hard, demanding, emotionally and physically draining.  Having to deal with officialdom adds a whole new oppressive layer to it.

When I reach the stage of not being able to care for myself I'll have no one to do it for me, no one to fight my corner and stand up to medics/dentists/opticians/social workers.  When I reach the stage of not being able to care for myself, I don't think I'll linger.  Better step off the bridge and find the next adventure to go on rather than stay here and dwindle into a moldering heap.

It's my tale and I'll decide it,  I'm pretty good at making stories up as I go along.

Quite depressing really, but I'll always be a unicorn farting rainbows.

Lavender Tea

Many years ago, in another lifetime (at least that's how it feels), I had an active interest in "alternative" therapies.

You see, I'd started writing about my mythical island when I was 14 and, even then, I realised that my native society wouldn't have western medicine, so I felt I needed to research and know about herbal therapies and other non-mainstream healing methodologies. In my 20's I trained as an aromatherapist & reflexologist.  In my late 30's I grew to know more and more about manipulating energy, in a healing capacity.

In my early 40's I developed fibromyalgia and pernicious anaemia basically all stemming from a severe bout of food poisoning which ruined my gut lining.  The lining of my gut is leaking - literally, fluid from my intestinal track leaks out into the surrounding muscles giving me a version of a 3 pack - hard lumps where muscle used to be.  Of course such leakage is toxic in and of itself, which isn't helping with trying to maintain muscle.

People ask me - if you can help others heal why can't you heal yourself?  I have no idea, but I've never been able to.

So, I tried medical science - but some don't recognise fibromyalgia.  Some think it's all psychological.  Some think it's a neuro-transmitter issue.  Some think there's a genetic component.  Aside from painkillers, and frequent B12 injections, there is nothing else medical science can do for me.  My GP expects me to be in a wheelchair in 4/5years time.  It's up to me to manage my symptoms and my pain levels - there is nothing anyone can do to help me.

Someone, I can't recall who, suggested I check out an American chap who blames everything on modern living.  Well, I know certain compounds don't help matters any, but, personally, I think it's a bit far fetched to blame everything on tinfoil and artificial sweeteners.  And his universal cure was "fresh" aloe vera.

OK, I have heard a lot of good things about aloe vera, but my interpretation of fresh is completely different to someone who markets a liquid derived in the US and shipped across the world as being "fresh".

But it got me to thinking.  I read in a book about forgotten Scottish herbs about the notion that everywhere that humanity has settled there is a plant for whatever ails you.  That made me think about Aloe Vera and what it can be used for.  Then I started thinking about what I knew of local plant life and I remembered lavender (not the french stuff).  In aromatherapy it is used a lot because it also helps activate other essential oils, makes them more efficacious (love that word).

Ok, so now I have a plant - how do I get the stuff into my gut, heal it from the inside out?  First check literature for contra-indications.  A fair few essential oils you just do NOT take internally because of some of the active chemicals which can, quite effectively, kill you, or do other major damage.

OK, not such a good idea to ingest the actual essential oil.  However, I found recipes for teas and condiments and such, so obviously part of the plant, unprocessed, could be ingested.

Turns out it's the flowers/seed heads.

I have a couple of ordinary lavender plants in the garden.  Finding lavender tea anywhere other than on-line is difficult, so, out to my lavender plant I go.

What dosage?  That's the next question.  One of the reasons I have trouble with herbal medicine is the potential for massive variations in the strength/concentration of the active ingredients.  However, in the absence of any real scientific data one falls back on good old trial and error.

One stalk with maybe a dozen flower heads.  Give a quick rinse under the cold tap (you never know what might be on the flowers, even small as they are) and then into a teapot.  Add freshly boiled water.  How long to steep?  Well, I don't like well brewed tea, so a minute or so.

The liquid has a decidedly green tinge to it but really isn't that strong - excellent, best place to start.

That was just over a week ago.  I have had one cup each day.  Through trial and error I've found that drinking it in the morning is the best idea since it doesn't help me sleep (it does the opposite).  And I've paid close attention to pain and energy levels and how my gut feels.

Some of my joint/muscle/tendon pain is actually worse, but that might be a healing crisis (when things get worse before they they better), Time'll tell.  But my underlying energy is better.  I am exhausted, it's less than a week until my next B12 injection, but it's about 10% less intense than normal.  My gut is less sensitive.  My 3-pack is not as hard.  My emotional state isn't as touchy as it can sometimes be.

So, for now, I think I'll get my ice-cube trays out, pick some more flower heads and freeze them.  Then, when I want a cup of tea all I have to do is get an ice-cube and stick it in the teapot!!  Besides the plants won't be producing flowers for much longer and I cannot be bothered harvesting and drying them (I'm so tired and so it could be classed as lazy, but, if you think that, let me know and I'll glad let you share my existence for a while).  So, ice cubes it is.

Will it work for anyone else?  I have no idea, like I say, my fibro, aneamia and gut issues are specifically linked to the bout of food poisoning in 2009.

Fingers crossed that it continues to work.  But I shall remain watchful - you should never take any chemical long term, that's when side effects happen and sensitivities kick you in the gut.