Today (well, it is after midnight so really yesterday) I had a psychotherapy appointment where I caved on his nudging to go the ACC route for continued care.
I am still not comfortable with it and I didn't tell him I was agreeing so as to not disappoint him. It is not a reasoning he would have agreed with.
I also realised very quickly in telling him about my date disaster of a few weeks ago that he would interpret it as something fairly rape-y. So I played down how far it went and played down how unhappy to be there I was. And was left feeling dirty not only for having gone through the events again but also for having sanitised them. It avoided direct lies but was also uncomfortably untruthful.
Why does dishonesty bother me so much?
I am far more forgiving of being lied to than I am of when I distort the truth. Why does it only seem awful when it is me doing it?
The day before I had had a surprisingly productive GP appointment. I was a bit worried she would think I was being overcautious in how slowly I am weaning off my meds, but her advice was slower was better especially as it is hitting me fairly hard. She even suggested stopping decreases of the dose if it gets worse. She did also assume I was doing it for the weight lose, as health professionals keep doing at me. Fat people can have health goals separate from weight. But the referral for neurology, the actual reason I am putting myself through extra pain, is now in the works so that is a goal of sorts.
Oh, and I have damaged my supraspinatus. Have to see if it comes right on its own, and then maybe get private physiotherapy. I have been warned my chances are slim for public system care in anything resembling a timely fashion. Rotator cuffs are a thing and mine now has problems. Things I learned.
Otherwise, migraine naps have fucked up my sleep cycles.
I have clumsiness and lethargy.
I am fairly miserable and can't explain why.
So basically, go me.
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