Comfortable With Conformity
As I'm getting better, I'm getting worse. But worse in a healthy way-- I'm bored.
I can't drive with my current medication, and I'm tired almost all the time. I eat non-stop, and I can't work out like I used to. I'm getting fat. Last time I checked, I was 128, and it keeps climbing. I'm afraid to try on my Old Navy size 4 jeans.
But I know, I know. That should be the least of my prolems. Perspective and all that, I know, I know. But it's depressing.
I have an appointment with my therapist tommorow, which I'm happy about. She's going to help me find out why I freak out over sex and going to a gynecologist-- oh wait, I almost forgot. My pyshiatrist told me he thought I had vaginismus, which is involuntary vaginal spasms. But who knows. Anyway, I'm sick of being sick.
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