I’m just going to put this out there:

Counselling has really messed with my head.

I know, in some way, it is meant to. But seriously, it does this?

I feel like a goldfish. Just swimming around around the bowl in circles, without being able to find a answer. That’s all I want, some answers. So desperately. So I can get some sleep. So I can talk without hesitation or planning. I am unable to switch off.

I don’t feel guilty or weak for seeking help, its the opposite – I am finally doing something about all the things I can’t control / find resolutions to. But in the same beat, I am so frustrated that I can’t do it on my own. That it is taking an objective stranger to help me see the solutions, to guide me down the right path. I am clearly clouded by everything in my life, to sort my own ‘everything’. UGH.

I am mulling everything over. And I mean everything. Even in just wandering around, or watching tv, or reading a book; my mind is somewhere else, doing overtime trying to piece together the puzzle.

When I was sick, the puzzle was easy. It was a four piece jigsaw – Stop the inflammation. Take new medication. Put weight back on and gain strength. Return to work, to my ‘normal’ life. Simple! Now? Its a fucking 100 piece beast of a jigsaw:

Don’t let Crohn’s run life. Can’t help but let it control it. Keep busy. But relax and stay health. Don’t push body too far. But don’t let it get the better of me. Work hard. Play hard. Enjoy my good days. Limit my bad days. Change diet. Eat bad food, pay for it. Eat shit and put on weight and gain ‘crohn baby’. Not eat. Stress out about friends, family, work, relationship. Keep mouth shut about condition. Lie about medication. Laugh too much, giggle inappropriately. Get told to shut up. Cry. Feel weak and frustrated. Vent on blog. Feel horrible for being nasty and snappy. Panic about needles in my thighs. Worry about surgery. Tell self off for thinking about unknown future. Get depressed that I’m not ‘healthy’. Feel stupid for being silly. Rant to IBD family…

The list goes on and on.

It is a fucking war. A strategic battle that sometimes I win and sometimes I loose. When I win it feels so insignificant compared to all those losses. They cut deep and linger. The lingers is the worst. It just hangs on, and returns with that lovely insomnia. Evil bastards.