I feel nugatory.

I haven’t posted in too long, and now…I need to vent.

A quick summary of the past few months: At the end of March, I was driving home and my vision started to go. I managed to get home safely (bless you, maternal instinct) and Fate had it that A was home early. I couldn’t see to put the key in the lock, and A opened the door.

“I can’t see.” I stumbled inside. He led me to the couch, got me a glass of cold water…and the last thing I remember is staring that that cold water, about 2 feet (most) on the coffee table, thinking how it was too far.

I woke up in the hospital, groggy, disoriented, and shaking uncontrollably.
What I learned later was that my family saw my eyes roll back in my head on the couch at home, I started moving erratically, and A believes I stopped breathing so he gave me brief CPR (and that’s how I had a bruise on my chest.) He also called 911, and I “came to” while 5 male paramedics were holding me down. I have no memory (luckily) but I apparently believed they were home invaders. So do you calm me down? Nah. And so I tried—and did—fight them off! Go me! But alas, I’m no match for a freakin’ antipsychotic shot dosed for a 250 lb man to shoot me up with. Morons.

I was in the hospital for 48 hours. Every test was run, and they all came back normal. My heart is good, my brain is fine (weird right?) etc.

So then two or so weeks ago—after going a month—it happened again at work. No hospitalization, thank god. I mean, after all, Ms. Uninsured here is looking at a now 15K plus bill, which is close to 2/3 of my salary.

Classy.

So anyway. I’m tired and pissed at people, good intentions, absolute misunderstanding of ED, dismissal of me, and the fact that—well, I’ll start with the thing I’m most pissed at:

1. A believes it’s my parents responsibility to help me out (financially/health insurance wise). Ouch and go f-yourself. Did we get married or not? Have I not begged him for over the past year to put me (AND THE KIDS!) on his health insurance.
Yes, that’s right, folks. My partner has health insurance, always has. But me…Ha.
 
2. My parents believe it’s A’s responsibility to help me out. I tend to believe this as well, given my not-super-nice comment in #1. However…I do not tell either party that they think the other is responsible, and so I feel pinched in a bind.

3. Since A can’t get his ass in gear (and god forbid I’m a day late doing a goddamn thing) with *my* health insurance, this absolutely feeds into my feelings of worthlessness.

4. A does not believe my neurologist diagnosed me correctly with convulsive syncope. Instead, he is certain *ALL* my problems—from migraines to depression—stem from my ED.

5. A knows little about ED, and the bit he does know he’s read from pretty poor sites—or gotten a message that I absolutely didn’t take away from the site (such as something-fishy.org)

6. Given this lack of knowledge, A has taken a “tough love” approach which has triggered my ED beyond words.

7. If we try to talk about my history of ED, A dismisses any and everything I say with something along the lines of, “You’re just justifying your ED.”

I think there is a big difference between justification and explanation of something you’ve had for over 20 years.

So much more I want to say….
Did I mention how worthless I feel?

Too fucking pissed off.

(And don’t tell me couples counseling, that’s a damn no-brainer or I’m taking off. His comments about my ED make me feel like a shit mom, a shit human being, and pretty unworthy.)

How adolescent it is to quote songs, but “I’ve got a new complaint/forever in debt to your priceless advice.”

Good intentions, I get.

Good intentions that are causing harm—well, let’s just say for someone as “sick” as I supposedly am (no doctor thinks I am struggling), I know I deserve better.

And I have to post this, ugly and angry as it is, because I can’t say anything to him or write anything to him until I calm down.

(Just got a text message saying he ate a hot dog, omg. I can’t really care. I so, so, so want to disappear, and goddammit, am I not more than “anorexic?” Fuck yeah I am.)