Black

If you're looking for a happy, uplifting, always look on the bright side kind of blog post, then this is not where you want to be.

The funk that I blogged about earlier in the week has become a full-on depressive episode, with brief forays into the not-quite-so-bad bits, which is why I am able to write this.

I went to see the Psych this week.  I was at a low ebb when I went.  This *should* be a good thing.  This time it was not.  What started out as a simple question about my new med and the weight gain it has caused led to a lengthy monologue on weightloss from said Psych. including all the things that, in his view, should form no further part of my life, which basically amounted to removing every single food that makes life worth living, including chocolate.  And replacing it with cabbage.  And lemongrass.  And chilli.  

For the rest of my life.

I could live to 90.

If all I could eat was cabbage and lemongrass and chilli, I wouldn't be too enthused about living beyond next week.

Last time I checked he's a Psych, not a practitioner in bariatric medicine.  He does however have the distinction of having lost a massive amount of weight and he keeps it off with cabbage, lemongrass and chilli amongst other things.

I know it is pathetic and stupid, but I ended up in tears and he just wouldn't leave me alone.  Like some blundering, short-sighted hippopotamus* he kept on and on and on and on until I was fit for neither man nor beast to talk to.  It was seriously the worst, most depressing, most disturbing doctor's appointment of my life. The only good thing about it was that he didn't charge me $125 for the consultation as usual, but bulk-billed me instead.  I came home a weepy mess and have been in a deep, dark funk ever since.

Actually, a deep, dark, guilt-ridden funk as every time I go to eat, I feel guilty about it being something edible and not cabbage, lemongrass or chilli.  Can I just mention that whilst cabbage and I are casual nodding acquaintances, chilli and lemongrass are sworn enemies?  

Right at this minute, I don't feel too bad.  Give me another half hour and I'll be thousand-yard-staring.  Mister Bear is getting the dinner tonight, as he has organised almost all our meals over the past few days, as I can't.

Mum and Dad took one look at me in church this morning and knew.  Mr P took one look and knew.  Mrs B took one look and knew.  Mister Bear and I are teaching Sunday School at the moment so there was no choice in being there today.  I feel absolutely dreadful.