Stress. Anxiety. Panic. Lifting my head was a chore this morning, stressed out over a doc's appointment. Anxiety messed my head up, couldn't drink the coffee in the cup ahead of me. The toast and cheese turned yellow, couldn't eat it. Made new. Rinse. Repeat.
Third try and I actually managed to get something solid inside me, it didn't stop the shaking though, but I couldn't consume more, couldn't bring myself to swallow it.
Day went, pushing ahead. Managed to put the phonecall in to order a new appointment for my hands (They ache constantly, have been really bad the last few days. I'm worried enough that I feel I need painkillers daily. Not good. ) ended up with them saying they'd call me back at 16. I had another doc's appointment at 15.
Stress on. Managed. Argh. Met a new doctor again, told him how things have been the last few months, that I'm not doing much, that I have an eating disorder. Apathetic. Depressed. Not going out, not talking much to people. Barely managing myself. He nodded and said the right things and took some notes. We talked about my medical history, and he concluded he was able to offer me pills, but since the past, and since he couldn't guarantee a proper followup, he wouldn't. Hat off to that. He suggested a day-group focused around a dietist and so on, might work, something to do.
I want to exercise, but I can't make myself.
He said he'd write the appropiate papers and so on. Good.
They called back about my hands. Sorry, call again beginning of next week. Yargh. Getting help to procure food right now,I know I'll need to eat something, but what. What can I make myself eat? argh. Bad notion that I'd rather cut myself than make food, I really need to break this mental state.
We are just sketches of men
Caught in a wicked vortex
Where tertium non datur
Between being god
Or being damned
And thus I end it as: