Spring has Sprung

When my appointment with the dietician came around this week, I could barely convince myself to get there.

I was teary before, but pulling in to the car park, mum announced she'd be staying outside. I lost it, and had a bit of a mini breakdown. I've been going to the same clinic for my entire life, but I couldn't do it, I can't go in alone.

My head started screaming that we should just go home, that I didn't deserve to go to appointments unless I can get through the waiting room solo. I got out of the car, then dived back in. When I did start heading inside, I kept stopping and starting, just wanting to hide away. I made it halfway to the door before I slid down the wall and cried, banging my wrist against the ground.

Then, as timing would have it, I heard a kind voice ask if I was okay and felt a hand on my back. It was the dietician. She helped me up, put her arm around me and walked me in, straight through the waiting room to her office.

I started blubbering about how mum wanted to send me in by myself but I just couldn't do it. I know it's pathetic, but I can barely manage eye contact and a quiet 'hi', let alone actually talking to the girls at the desk. To make matters worse, I didn't get a blink of sleep that night, so I may have been a tad extra emotional.

After I saw her, she walked me over to the nurse's office to get the wound on my wrist dressed, which she wanted my GP to check out. I sat waiting alone for 10 minutes, feeling irrationally alone and scared. I wanted to sit on the floor in the gap between chair and cupboard and hide.

The nurse did the dressings, and my GP asked me to please start on antibiotics again. She gets that it's part of the self-destructive part of things. Some days, I don't care enough to take them. Other days, I actively want to worsen my health. I was also supposed to have bloods drawn so she'd have the result for when I saw her on Thursday, but I just couldn't do it.

By the time I got back to the car, it was 9:05. I'd been in there for a whole hour.

Then on Thursday I saw my GP. She mentioned wanting to put me back on one of the antidepressants I tried earlier in the year, Gabapentin. She thought it'd help with anxiety, but I explained I still don't think they helped, and things are getting harder for very tangible reasons. Plus, I want to let the new antidepressants 'settle' before adding anything else (back) to the cocktail.

We spoke a lot about the fact I need to get back to seeing the Mental Health Nurse, but I still can't get my head around it. Our last appointment was horrific, and I'm scared I'll go back and she'll try to clear up what she said, but end up just rubbing in how tired my mum must be of me.

She suggested an appointment with both her and the dietician there as well, so I'll have the whole team of support there. It doesn't stop the MHN saying something hurtful, but it's really the only option that's been raised.


Spring has definitely sprung here, and things are heating up so I've been spending most of my time on the couch, watching horror movies and Dr Phil and those bizarre habit/weight/addiction shows on YouTube. On the plus side, I have actually finished sewing a new skirt, well timed with the warmer weather, so hopefully I'll have photos to share with you all soon.


xxBella