Which would be quite cool, if it were so.

So, here's the deal.
I think.
Well it's the deal for today, tomorrow? Who knows.
I went to my Dr yesterday, I have been putting that off for weeks, if not months, it is certainly a long time since I last went because, as I told her when she asked why I have not been to see her " Oh, well, because what can you do?"
Because what can she do? I suppose that she can possibly find some drugs to alleviate the symptoms of whatever ails me, the indigestion for instance. I say indigestion as though it is some mildly troublesome belching after a meal, when in fact it is a 24 hour horrendous pain that renders me incapable of doing much but complain. I drink gaviscon as if it is water and I chomp on tums as if I have an addiction. When I wake up I can feel my stomach is so full of acid I can only stumble downstairs huddled over with a vice like grip on my stomach. Many nights I wake up gasping as I breathe in only to inhale the acid that has travelled up my gullet...that is most probably almost amusing to witness as I shoot out of bed trying to catch my breath.
That was the main reason for going to see my Dr yesterday, it is ridiculous to try and pretend that this is perfectly OK to live with. I know, though it makes no difference, that this is my bodies reaction to 'eating my worries' in the destructive habit of eating myself calm I have, as well as made myself fatter than at any other time in my life, actually damaged the inside as well as the outside of my body. I have to stop.
She suggested increasing my anti depressants, which I refused because medicating me isn't any more helpful than eating myself calm, all it does is mask what I am avoiding. I wish I knew what I was avoiding, if We could discover that then maybe it would be easier to heal myself.
She suggested counselling again and although I admit that it was incredibly helpful last time I'm not convinced it can help me now.....my last councillor was great and I felt that she really knew me, could see who I really way inside and still listened to me, still showed me I was worth knowing, even though she knew what my darkest secrets were. Until I saw her outside, in the street, twice and she ignored me, she looked right at me, both times and then she turned away. I wasn't expecting her to hug me or shout Hallelujah to my name but she could have said "Hello" or even, you know, smiled. She didn't and in turning away, both times ( the first time I convinced myself that she hadn't seen me, the second time, I knew she had seen me and she had chosen not to acknowledge me) and so I never went to see her again. I told the Dr I was better and didn't need counselling anymore.
I just wrote that as if I was aware of what I did all along and for heavens sake, until I started writing this blog today I had absolutely NO IDEA that this is what I had felt or done. I knew that when she didn't acknowledge me I was cut to the quick, I knew that it mattered but I thought I had convinced myself that it was some kind of 'therapist' thing to keep relationships somehow professional and 'in the office' but really, how could a simple Hello have hurt? ( did she think that I would throw myself at her feet and tell her what was worrying me right then outside the Ivor Dewdney pasty shop? Perhaps she did, who knows.) All I know is that when she did that, when she looked at me and then looked away, twice, in my mind she proved the first one right when he told me that should anyone ever know the real me, they would walk away, they would never be able to stay anywhere near me because I am so rotten inside that it would be impossible to have anything to do with me when the real me shows it's ugly face.
If I were a psychiatrist I would tell me that my whole eating myself ugly thing is a defence mechanism, I would explain that by doing this, by eating until I cannot even look at myself in a mirror I am making myself inapproachable to start with. 'Look at me, ugly huh? don't even try to like me because I AM BAD! Turn away right now and save yourself ( And me) Some heartache '
I sat next to the first one at Jordan's wedding, I spoke to him and I found myself trying really hard to remember ever being close to him. I looked at his face with his squinty eyes and I tried to remember ever loving him. I marvelled at how calm I was on the outside, how sociable and polite, how easily I hugged him and spoke to him about our children ( mine, MY children) and how simply I deflected talking to him about Sophie when he asked, how I smiled and said how busy she is and how she never has her phone turned on and how it isn't anything personal that she doesn't call him. I did that because he is so stupid, he is not worth wasting good conversation on, he doesn't deserve explanations or any chance to right his wrongs. What I wanted to do was laugh in his stupid face and tell him she doesn't hate him she doesn't even think about him, she feels nothing but contempt and she calls him only when she wants something because that's all he's good for, maybe £20 when it's her birthday, the rest she gets from me...but it's OK, I won't ever let her see the real me in case she can't stand to be near me because what then? Then she'd have NOWHERE to turn would she?
Arsehalf, it'd take two of him to make an arse(w)hole. HALF! ( made myself cry through the tears then, I told Jenn and Julie the arsehalf thing when they were here and we laughed saying we would simply shout HALF at anyone that was getting on our nerves and no-one would ever know why we were saying it. I've let the cat out of the bag on that one, sorry about that, if I've ever yelled HALF at you, you probably deserved it and why are you reading my blog? Go away immediately.So, the chances are the whole burning acid in the stomach thing is my body eating away at itself, which really, wouldn't that be cool if it didn't hurt? How fabulous would it be if you hated yourself so much that your body ate itself away until you were a skinny little lovable thing?
Am I saying that if I were thin I would be more lovable? *gasp* yes, I think I am.
I am definitely saying that about only myself, me, Helen. I love myself much more when I am thin, I hate myself to the point of loathing when I am fat, I feel I am just as I deserve to be when I am fat. I'm not saying that's how it should be, just that it is how it is.
I am back at the point where enough is enough and I am ready to try again to be kind to myself. I have made myself physically ill this time and the older I get the more worrying that is.
Here's to liking myself again and being kind to myself, here we again.