I Suck at Bingeing

Ah, the irony. I had begun a post about how anxious I was for Friday to come, bringing the appointment I’ve been waiting six months for. Yeah, that’s deleted. As is my appointment.

That’s right, ladies and gents. The appointment that was cancelled and rescheduled has been cancelled again. For good. Because the RE resigned. They should have another by the first week of February. Do I get rescheduled? Of course not. You know what? Screw them.

We were at Dollar Tree when I got the call, so I went and sat in the car for a bit then came back inside. And stocked up on junk.

20111205-165348.jpg And club soda to wash it down.

I did manage to eat half the Chocolate Pearls.

But seriously, WTF???

I’m tired of the letdowns. I feel like the shittiest person in the world. I hate my body for being a jerk. I hate myself for hating my body. I hate myself for getting my hopes up when I should have known better. I hate myself for being upset. I hate myself for hating myself. I hate being so tired all the time. I hate that psych meds are so fricking expensive. I hate that I can’t even put a good dent a stockpile of junk food.

At least I’d already planned to make chicken and dumplings for dinner. Chicken and dumplings fixes a lot.


My Visit to Behavioral Health

I made it to the clinic before eight this morning for my 8:15 appointment, and there were already about ten people in the waiting room, which Behavioral Health shares with Family Dentistry.

I filled out my little ‘I’m here’ slip and waited. After a few minutes, the receptionist gave me the forms to fill out. They really don’t give me enough room for all my medications. But I had two giant boxes for ‘number of pregnancies’ and ‘number of miscarriages.’ I suppose I could have made my zeroes bigger.

Now I’m waiting for her to call me back to make copies of my income verification stuff. This could be an adventure, as I work for commission and fill out my own paperwork to get paid. But the nice lady I talked to last week said that was fine.

And of course, she asked for stuff I wasn’t told to bring. But she said it was okay. Waiting again.

I feel like I just blew fifty bucks for a social worker to tell me I’m depressed and anxious and she’d like to see me in counseling.

I have an appointment in four weeks. How am I going to make it that long?

I started out today so hopeful and optimistic, and now I’m just crying in my car in my driveway.