The Breakup

My last appointment with the mental health nurse was this week, and it didn't go as well as it could've.

Long story short, about 15 minutes in, we'd been chit-chatting about small stuff, and she asks about osteoporosis, and if my GP and dietician had agreed on what supplements I need to take yet (which they haven't).
"I wonder what foods are the highest in calcium... it's probably bloody impossible to eat all you need anyway."
"No, most people can get enough through food, I just can't."
"...ohh, because of the Anorexia? I thought you were managing that."

And that's when it all came crashing down. Granted, I don't talk to her about ED stuff. The dietician's the only one I trust enough. But I didn't take it well. I could feel a meltdown coming on, and I left crying

"I might as well just die now, I'm just a worthless, fat piece of shit."

I haven't walked out of an appointment like that in months. And I had to do it at my last appointment. We were barely a quarter through.

Out to the car, full-scale breakdown in the car park. I was so upset, I wanted to tear my skin off.
Mum went back in and talked to her, and they both came out to the car.

I felt awful. She kept apologizing, saying she stuffed up and didn't mean it that way at all. But I felt so low, I was spiralling.
"I'm not managing it, I'm not managing it at all, I don't talk to you about it but that doesn't mean I'm managing it, but obviously I am because I'm such a fucking fatass."

It was the first time any of my team have seen me in full breakdown mode. With the MHN, crying has usually involved sitting bolt upright with my jaw clenched, trying my hardest now to crack. Now I was curled up in a ball, crying harder than any of them have seen me, repeating that I can't do this, I can't do this, oh god, I fucked up.
I heard her ask mum something about if this sort of breakdown was out of the ordinary, but unfortunately it's not.

"It was my last appointment and I fucked up and now I can't see you any more and I fucked it up."

She'd called the home phone that morning, and offered to drop by, but having people over panics me, so mum just put it on speaker so I could listen. Although she can't keep me on long term, she offered to see me once more to catch up when she gets back from her holidays in a month, and to come to the first few appointments with the new MHN.

Since she'll have finished her current job, she'd said we could either meet at her office in town or my house or meet at a park or for coffee, but all of them terrified me. I told her I can't go out to town, or anywhere public in my city, and having people over to the house scares me even more. So she said she could even come for a drive and we can talk in the car, which is sadly probably the safest bet.

I'm just hating myself for it. I needed that appointment so badly and I wasn't even in there half an hour. I needed it so badly that I'd tried to get a second appointment the day before. But I fucked it up. I can't even feel sad about it, because I fucked it up. I want to tear my skin apart.

I fucked it up.
And I deserve to feel as bad as I do.

credit :: Pon and Zi (Jeff Thomas)

xxBella