Feeling constantly too full, too gassy, like I’ve been eating too much. At least half of that discomfort must be coming from the sensation of continual heartburn and slight nausea that’s been going on since Friday. The other half is probably yes, I have been eating too much for sitting around on my butt all day.
I know I’m not processing this anger well. I’m keeping it together on the outside, not even letting my thoughts stray too much at this point, yet my body is tight and unhappy.
My stomach doesn’t want to eat anything anymore. My hands and mouth disagree.
Sleep has not been an issue. It comes, willingly, at night. It doesn’t ask me to toss and turn for an hour, and it doesn’t wake me up three times to see morning hasn’t come yet. If anything I’d like to be sleeping more. Perhaps that’s what I’m trying to do; sleep the anger away. Pretend that a short stint of unconsciousness will lead to some sort of change the next day.
Sometimes tears leak out of my eyes. Can’t say I’ve been crying. Crying for me is full in it, non stop letting the sobs out. That’s not what’s going on. I just tear up a bit, grab a tissue and wipe my eyes, sigh, and blow my nose. It happens multiple times in the day. My fear over having it occur while I’m in public is increasing.
Today is the day to take action, like it or not. The dreaded scourge of humanity – the telephone – must be faced not once but twice this morning. Dutch must be deconstructed and understood, calendars must be out to cancel and make appointments. I’m walking outside today even if my fucking feet fall off halfway through my time. Dishes will be done; I used the last clean glass in the house last night (don’t be shocked; I’ve only got three good drinking glasses in the house so it’s not that much). My brother’s butt will get poked to get his laundry out of the laundry area so I can do mine. I’ve got to see some progress, at least in this house.
How I’d love to walk into my huisart’s office today for an appointment and be told that the doctor can see me right away because she had a cancellation. I won’t count on it, tho I’d sure appreciate it. You listening, Universe?
…Went to see if George and his clan had moved back to the canal after all the city workers stopped cleaning up the area. Yep. I was happy to see everybody back, but especially my little guy. Yesterday I took out the end of a specialty bread we’d tried; it was drier than usual and crumbled easily. While everyone else was pleased to scatter around and pick thru the grass, George wasn’t. He wouldn’t go for anything if I didn’t hand it directly to him. I even saw him lose his bread three times to the other ducks. Didn’t matter. He was right back in front of me, waiting for me to bend down and hand him another bit. I know, I know. Beeps, you’ve spoiled that duck forever. And I’m glad; I’m glad he does that and he knows me and he’s chosen ME as his special person. I feel honored.
I still feel bloody sick.
One hour and 15 minutes til my doc’s office opens. I think I might head over there before I eat breakfast.
I’ve also been thinking that I’ll tell my doctor I want to delay any further therapy until I speak with my rheumatologist. It’s just a month, but I think having my rheumatologist on board with me, including working on a real plan for emergency pain relief, will give me a greater feeling of support. I’m also tinkering with the idea of asking for regular visits with both my huisarts and my rheumatologist, BEYOND the norm. Just monthly ‘check-in’ visits while I go thru therapy, or at least until I feel I’ve found competent therapists to work with. It’s very hard for me to ask for an appointment with any doctor. Generally I think I’m not worth it, they’re too busy with real problems, etc. etc. So I delay going in. That’s not working, and I know it’s not working. But if seeing them was a routine thing, something that just happened once a month, it would be so much easier to say all the things I should say, when they come up.
That’s actually a solid plan. Didn’t realize how sane it sounded until I wrote it down.
Even if therapy doesn’t work out for me, the entire exercise of trying to find a therapist to work with has taught me a few things. It’s reminded me that I need to be kinder to myself on a daily basis. It’s forced me into a few situations where I needed to speak up for myself. It’s shown me how easily I can be distracted from my own goals while under peer pressure. None of that is bad, and all of it can be turned into a foundation for myself. Know Thyself. Not the lies we tell ourselves, but the truth, and that can be gleaned from careful observation. Dad used to call me flighty, and I can see why. I bend and shape myself to whatever the situation calls for. It is only after, alone, that I can sort out what happened beneath the mask I present to the general public. Then I suffer the aftermath of whatever emotion I kept at bay. I do not want to live my life in retrospect, concentrating on what I did and felt. I want to live my life in the present, concentrating on what I’m doing and feeling.
Time to shift the focus.