06-27-07 @ 12:32 pm EDT

Well, obviously I've lost track of keeping track of my appointments...and my memory is poor so I guess I'll just summarize. I feel kind of down today anyway and haven't really felt like journaling. It just seems like such a hassle to type up stuff that for all you know means nothing, right?

For starters, I had an appointment with Psychologist...back in early June or late May, can't even recall which. Talked about about SS (the girl I keep mentioning whom I tried to be friends with and it turned out she was even more self-absorbed and more of a drama queen than I am, I sent her a 7kb e-mail on how to avoid Internet stalkers and she basically told me to keep my mails shorter!--no wonder she claims she has no friends if that's how she treats them) and her tendency of throwing fits in her journal and then deleting the incriminating entries. I find it funny now when she does this; actually makes me feel a bit better about myself because she is MEGA popular. She's one of those wannabe writers. She makes good art--I won't deny that--but that's all she does. She can't finish a story. She keeps CLAIMING she's going to write this really epic manga someday about her characters but she switches interests at the drop of a hat and she's been yapping about starting this series for years now. And this isn't a one-time thing. I've come across her OTHER stories where she got through all of like one or two pages before losing interest and abandoning them for years. Why does this get to me so much? Because she's so damn POPULAR and no matter how obvious it is that she's never going to write the damn thing, and no matter how much she whines about how lonely she is and how crappy her art is yet totally ignores her thousands of fans, people STILL FLOCK TO HER. Meanwhile I chug away at my own work and people can barely glance at it. I can't count how many times people have told me the first chapter is so fantastic they'll definitely read more and I told myself, "Yeah, buh-bye"--and was right. People don't LIKE to read more. Maybe that's why she's so popular, she'll never WRITE past the first page anyway!

Well, Psychologist asked if I ever did anything similar, throw a fit in my journal in the hopes of getting attention/comfort. While I don't do this in the all-out drama-queen way SS does, it's true that when I feel upset I often post about it in the hopes that people will be there to respond. I don't LIKE doing this, but I will admit it. When I'm hurting and lonely, I want people there to make me feel better. And I'm negligent in responding, another thing I hate about myself and see in SS. I don't attempt to hide the evidence like SS does, though. I swear, EVERY time she throws a fit in her journal, I just know she's doing it so her legion of fans can come and *HUGZ* her to death, just so she can read the comments, puff up her ego a bit, then delete the embarrassing entry before her legion of HARASSERS (yep, she has her share of those too, admittedly) can show up to laugh at her. I've posted plenty of journal entries I later regretted but I don't believe in erasing them as if they never existed, because as long as someone saw them, heck, as long as I WROTE them, they WERE, they existed, and no amount of effort of hiding that fact will help me any. When you're an ignorant ass you just have to face it. I can be a hyper-emotional, manipulative, bitchy drama queen, and to sweep that fact under the carpet won't do me any good.

I do, though, need to stop focusing on OTHER people's ongoing drama, like SS's...though like I said, to Psychologist too, knowing that even hyper-popular people can be messed up, overemotional ingrates like myself makes me feel a bit better now and then.

Psychologist learned the extent of how much writing I do and seemed shocked and awed. Well, that's what tends to happen when one has no life to keep them occupied, they make stuff up.

Anyway, I can't recall what else we discussed. But Psychologist at last admitted that she doesn't know what's left that she can do to help me. I said I understood, but I didn't want to stop seeing her, because even if she can't really DO anything to help me improve, it helps me a little to bounce things off of her and ask for her own unbiased opinion to put things in perspective since I'm not good at doing that. She agreed, and we decided to meet monthly instead of bi-weekly or whatever. I hope I can come up with things to talk about because even if she can't help me, I really DON'T want to just quit therapy. I'm always going to have issues, and sometimes I really need somebody to talk to about them without being told to shut up.

Had a meeting with Psychiatrist then, just basic stuff which I can't recall, and renewed my prescriptions.

Had to go to the hospital to get a blood lab as it's that time of the year for one. I didn't tell the nurse that I tend to pass out because I didn't want to lie on the bed; I hate lying down in front of people. So I sat in the chair. I made it fine through the needle pricking my arm, and drawing the blood, and being withdrawn (I didn't watch any of it); then I passed out. I don't remember doing so. I do remember this awful, awful feeling of wondering where I was, what was going on, why did I feel so awful?--why was I so confused?--it was just a hideous feeling, like my brain was mired in muck and I couldn't remember anything, when a distant voice said, "Rachel?" then, "Rachel, can you respond to me?" I let out a soft moan and the voice said, "Rachel, can you look at me?" and even though I really didn't want to, I managed to drag my eyes open and look at the nurse. "Your color's coming back already!" she said, and the next moment or two was spent with me blinking and shaking my head to clear the muck, then pulling myself up in the chair (my feet, before perched on the bar, had slumped to the floor), then letting her know I was all right and getting up and going on my way. Ma had to get her blood drawn next and I told her I'd sit in the hall; the nurse asked if I'd like any orange juice but I said I was all right, just kind of shaky. Then we went to get food and went home. That was a decent nurse. The other ones were nice, but sarcastic. This one was very courteous and didn't even have to use smelling salts on me, and didn't even take me to task for passing out on her. She just gently woke me up and I went on my way. There should be more nurses like that.

That was Friday, I believe.

Then yesterday I had a meeting with Nurse. Another assessment, check the eyes and ears and blood pressure and stuff, ask about risk factors like smoke alarms and seatbelts and if I smoke or drink or whatever, how much I weigh. I didn't know; when she last weighed me a year ago I hated to discover that it was 189lbs. Well, she weighed me again...and now I'm at 232lbs, I believe. -_- Over FORTY POUNDS GAINED in one year?? Now, I know I eat way too much, and don't exercise nearly enough. But FORTY POUNDS? I'm wondering if it's not the Lexapro putting weight on me. It's possible. I'm willing to accept that most of the weight is probably my own fault. But it still seems like an insane amount to gain, considering that my habits haven't changed since I was last weighed, at least, not that I can recall.

232lbs, and only five feet tall...that's so embarrassing. I do hope nobody reading this thinks I'm a fat pig. :( I mean, I AM fat, and I eat too much and don't exercise, but it's not like I set out to gorge myself or anything. And the plain truth about exercise is 1. I don't make time for it because I'm busy writing/drawing/reading/online and 2. I really hate getting all sweaty and stuff. >_< In my own very feeble defense, I did finally go walk the rails to take pictures. Thing is, it took twice as long as I'd thought, I was miserable with bugs biting at me (but did get some very nice pictures), and my lower back NEARLY KILLED ME. I barely made it back home, it hurt so much. -_- I can only assume it's the extra weight that's added this problem. All I have to do is go outside with the cat and walk around and such a bit and my lower back begins to hurt. I've tried Advil, aspirin, menthol, even a back brace, just the simple kind you buy at the store, and nothing helps. The back brace is more for the UPPER back whereas this pain is RIGHT at the base of my spine, the small of my back...it gets so awful. I wish I had a bad knee or a bad ankle instead, I can handle that fine. But a sore shoulder or neck or back...and it totally kills me.

This, of course, makes me worry about Mackinac Island. The rail walk was about three hours over a level, unbending trail. Mackinac Island is usually about 7-8 hours up and down twisty trails and steps. How will my poor stupid back fare with THAT? -_-

I've even been considering doing something self-mortifying like Opus Dei does and wrapping a spiked thing around my leg just to distract me from the pain in my back! >_< But knowing my luck all that'd do is make both leg and back hurt and I'd probably cut off my circulation anyway. Ugh, I wish I had some solution. Stupid back. I used to be such a good walker...HIKER. -_-

Yes, I actually looked up Opus Dei when wondering about my bad back. These are just the sort of trails my mind wanders.

Watched Pan's Labyrinth finally yesterday. Wasn't as spectacular as I've heard, but it was still good. Number one: I didn't know a wine bottle could do that to a man's face. O_O And number two: Should I start suspecting that little buzzy insects are fairies? Because all that girl did was see a big freaky bug-thing and she's immediately like, "Are you a fairy?" whereas I'd just be like "AAAGGGHH KILL IT!!"

And the Faun was a little odder than I'd thought. I expected him to be all regal and dignified and instead he simpers around and makes weird motions like...the Captain Sparrow of fauns.