I asked Hank Williams, "How lonely does it get?"
IIIIII am officially depressed. I:
- stopped hanging out with friends except under obligation (i.e. birthdays)
- drink every single day
- smoke more cigarettes in a day than I ever have ever
- cry 5+ nights out of the week
Collin is very supportive and gives me many hugs and says "don't be sad, it will get better" and pets my hair. It gives me hard to describe emotions. I really appreciate how considerate he is of me and it means a lot but it does not help one bit and I feel a lot of guilt that he is trying so hard and I am givin him nothin. I am still fat whether you pet me or not, Collin, and I have stopped going to the gym because even though I am tired of weighing 135 pounds I am too busy crying on my couch to do anything about it so I'm not gonna get any skinnier. (He says he doesn't care and likes me just how I am)
Yesterday I called to make a doctors appointment because I have gotten 7 total periods since 2005. I asked to speak to the nurse first to determine whether I should go to a regular physician to check out my whole self or just go to an OBGYN. I described my symptoms to her: no bleedin, gained 20 pounds since 2005 with no measurable change in diet or exercise, depressed, and THINNING HAIR ON MY SCALP. The last symptom is one I discovered earlier in the week so I panicked and made the emergency call. She asked if I had ever had cysts on my ovaries. I replied, "several." The nurse said it sounds like I have this: http://women.webmd.com/tc/polycystic-ovary-syndrome-pcos-what-happens
At first I felt relieved to have an idea of what my problem might be but now I am pissed. Where the fuck does this bitch get off planting scary horrifying infertile hairy fat diabetic ideas into my head? My appointment isn't until September 9th so I have a good 4 weeks to live in terror and think that every hair on my body is an incoming man-hair and every zit I get is a result of me being a barren fat dude with diabetes.
I asked Collin if he would still love me with a beard and he said "Oh Elizabeth, who CARES. Just think of how much you love hockey! Maybe you could grow a playoff beard!" I laughed but then I cried
- stopped hanging out with friends except under obligation (i.e. birthdays)
- drink every single day
- smoke more cigarettes in a day than I ever have ever
- cry 5+ nights out of the week
Collin is very supportive and gives me many hugs and says "don't be sad, it will get better" and pets my hair. It gives me hard to describe emotions. I really appreciate how considerate he is of me and it means a lot but it does not help one bit and I feel a lot of guilt that he is trying so hard and I am givin him nothin. I am still fat whether you pet me or not, Collin, and I have stopped going to the gym because even though I am tired of weighing 135 pounds I am too busy crying on my couch to do anything about it so I'm not gonna get any skinnier. (He says he doesn't care and likes me just how I am)
Yesterday I called to make a doctors appointment because I have gotten 7 total periods since 2005. I asked to speak to the nurse first to determine whether I should go to a regular physician to check out my whole self or just go to an OBGYN. I described my symptoms to her: no bleedin, gained 20 pounds since 2005 with no measurable change in diet or exercise, depressed, and THINNING HAIR ON MY SCALP. The last symptom is one I discovered earlier in the week so I panicked and made the emergency call. She asked if I had ever had cysts on my ovaries. I replied, "several." The nurse said it sounds like I have this: http://women.webmd.com/tc/polycystic-ovary-syndrome-pcos-what-happens
At first I felt relieved to have an idea of what my problem might be but now I am pissed. Where the fuck does this bitch get off planting scary horrifying infertile hairy fat diabetic ideas into my head? My appointment isn't until September 9th so I have a good 4 weeks to live in terror and think that every hair on my body is an incoming man-hair and every zit I get is a result of me being a barren fat dude with diabetes.
I asked Collin if he would still love me with a beard and he said "Oh Elizabeth, who CARES. Just think of how much you love hockey! Maybe you could grow a playoff beard!" I laughed but then I cried