Goodbye, Duloxetine....Hello Venlafaxine

So my antidepressants have been chnaged again, which is a good thing because the old ones didn’t agree with me at all; bringing me to a grand total of four tried, three failed. Keeping my fingers crossed that these ones do some good.

Yet again, I got the feeling that mum was almost jealous that I had been put on something else. I am beginning to suspect that she wants to be the one who is the most ill, so she can act like a martyr. I can tell form the way she looked at me when I told her, that she was thinking: “you never say anything, you never complain. How can YOU be worse than ME?”. She’s started saying things like “I feel so AWFUL when I talk about my problems to you, I don’t want to burden you”. In a way that just screams PITY ME PITY ME PITY ME.

To add insult to injury, I’m being referred for a mental health assesment. I’ve never had one before, I always just got frog-marched into a counsellor’s office. I’m terrified that they’ll find out there’s nothing wrong with me and that I’ve just an evil, rotten person. I said that to my mum and she said I was being stupid.

We’re both trying to “lose weight together” (this was my idea so that I can restrict in secret and she wouldn’t be suspicious when I lose weight), she’s really overweight and I think she’s jealous that I’m losing weight already. I mean, I know that I’m still a HUGE FAT ARSE, but she keeps calling me slim and thin and then in the next breath calling me shapely and womanly. When we went to get our nails done, the girl who does mine commented that I’d lost weight, my mum overhears and immediately says “Don’t encourage her, she’s just obsessed”. What. The. Fuck? She’ll only be happy when I’m as fat as she is, but I won’t be fat forever, I broke my plateau and I won’t stop.