A Wasted Day

Fuck you to my husband’s snoring, leading to my sleep deprivation, and exacerbating my depression.

I had wonderful plans to go into NYC early today to check out the Spider Silk exhibit at a museum, then go to 1-2 yarn stores, then stock up on bath shit at Lush, then lunch at a Malaysian place before my appointment (which I thought was) at 3.

I woke up feeling like crap, dropped the husband off at the train, and thought I’d just go into NYC later just for my appointment.

So then I start constructing my “Plan B,” building a small itinerary after the therapist appointment. I scheduled a hair appointment at Aveda, and mapped out which bus to take to get to Lush in Herald Square.

I was in the process of IMing the husband about how shitty I felt, when my cell let me know I had a voicemail. Time: 11:45. It was my therapist wondering where I was, as our appt was at 11. FML.

So I had to go and reschedule my appointment for next week, and hope I’ll be able to get the time off as we’re running FOREVER short staffed it seems, then had to cancel the hair appointment I JUST ARRANGED, and will have to wait one more week until I get to go to Lush to stock up on my bath shit.

Husband’s response: Take a nap.

FUCK THAT! If I were getting good sleep, I’d be alert enough to salvage my day. Now I’m up and irritated at a perfectly HORRIBLY wasted day off (state holiday), and will have to dip into my sick time to take off to accommodate another appointment.

I’m incredibly fed up with the sleep situation here. And even in my sleep-deprived-addled state, when he wakes me up in the middle of the night due to his CONSTANT tossing and turning and OH MY GOD SNORING, I scream out, “WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK?”

On top of this, I've only seen about four of the videos of the online seminar the bariatric team demands I watch (and respond to the quizzes at the end) before even arranging a consultation with me.

I'm alone. I'm exhausted. I'm depressed. And the whole situation once that consultation is arranged will be nothing but six months to a year's worth of aggravation, depleting my sick and personal leave at work, and just inconvenience and irritability. No wonder why I'm procrastinating and meditating too long on this shit.

Three Out of Six

So I sat down and plodded through three (or maybe four) of the six videos of the online seminar which is required before scheduling a consult. In hindsight, I wish I weren't me. I wish I were more of a go-getter. Had that been the case, I no doubt would've been able to get in for a consult this Weds when I'd be in NYC anyway for another appointment.

I fear once I set this thing in motion, my life will be a flurry of doctor's appointments, requirements, and further reminder(s) that I am a failure.

On Diminishing Joy

I'm still menstruating at age 41. Increasingly intense pain from lower (left side) back straight through to front of body out the pelvis. Why should I still menstruate? It's a sick cosmic joke.

Too many years have been languished and complacency has settled in. First w/a (now ex) husband who wasted ten years of my life before PCOS took a foot hold. Second with a husband who isn't the same age as me, different thoughts on when to start a family despite my being six years older. And really now, it's too late. So why menstruate anymore?

I won't have a kid of my own flesh. Between all the risk factors (both for me and a fetus), plus this overriding fear that I'll fuck up an innocent life, coupled up with the overriding sense that I'll be in it alone, I'm paralyzed to even follow thru on this.

And now it seems I'll be on track for bariatric surgery, after which, vitamin and mineral deficiencies will be something I'll have to stay vigilant of, so post-op pregnancy I doubt it's even advised.

Just attempted to get aroused and tried to have sex, which just left me in a crying jag fueld by female impotence. I used to have a stellar and enjoyable sex life. I don't know if the increasing impotence I am suffering from is from the excess weight or my depression or what. It saddens me intensely that something I used to enjoy so much may be gone forever.

And sadly the last thing that brought me so much enjoyment, FOOD, will soon be taken from me too.

Though not suicidal, I am prone to intellectualize what is the point of living when two very essential things in my life are escaping my grasp.