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hathycolSo, tonight I went out with Katie and Mohawk to see The Blues Brothers musical thingie oojy-whatsit and I was having a really bloody good time. I was quite happy watching everyone else dance on stage, having no personal wish to join them and just enjoying the music and the dancing.
Except I haven't been good recently. And I stopped counting ym wheat intake the last few days, instead going LALALALA I DON'T CARE and ignoring the fact that I've had lots of bread, and pasta, and tonight I had a very wheaty cheese sauce.
This is the first time I've had to come home from something. I'm wrapped in my pajamas and my quilt and I've taken the suppressant and when it kicks in I'll go to bed.
I was enjoying that show. This isn't the first time it's been so bad I've had to skip out early from something, but normally I can hold on and put up with it, but oh sweet lord this is so bad I think I might actually throw up. It's not nausea - that's normal, you know, I've been hungover and I know that feeling - but this is the horrible, rolling sensation on my body trying to digest itself, like there's some sort of battle going on inside and all I can do is cling on and wait while my body tris to get rid of things it doesn't like and it's still deciding how it's going to do that. Let's pray it just digests the fucking stuff. I can't describe what it feels like to people who don't have this stupid, lousy 'oh tough luck' condition that might not be serious, that might well be shared by most of the population, but is still fucking shite. It's not the end of the world. I'm not paralysed by pain, I'm not crying from it, so I'm hardly critical, but I need to be alone and curl up somewhere warm and I'm amazed I lasted as long as I did in the show.
I'll be okay tomorrow, if a bit cautious about what I eat. But for now, I just want it to go away.
And I feel bad for skipping out on Katie and Mohawk, and for not getting to see the end of the show, and that today has been such a lovely day and that my crappy, crappy body had to ruin things.
As of Monday, I'm going as gluten free as I can. Out goes the pasta and the bread for a start and we'll see where things lead from there.
Except I haven't been good recently. And I stopped counting ym wheat intake the last few days, instead going LALALALA I DON'T CARE and ignoring the fact that I've had lots of bread, and pasta, and tonight I had a very wheaty cheese sauce.
This is the first time I've had to come home from something. I'm wrapped in my pajamas and my quilt and I've taken the suppressant and when it kicks in I'll go to bed.
I was enjoying that show. This isn't the first time it's been so bad I've had to skip out early from something, but normally I can hold on and put up with it, but oh sweet lord this is so bad I think I might actually throw up. It's not nausea - that's normal, you know, I've been hungover and I know that feeling - but this is the horrible, rolling sensation on my body trying to digest itself, like there's some sort of battle going on inside and all I can do is cling on and wait while my body tris to get rid of things it doesn't like and it's still deciding how it's going to do that. Let's pray it just digests the fucking stuff. I can't describe what it feels like to people who don't have this stupid, lousy 'oh tough luck' condition that might not be serious, that might well be shared by most of the population, but is still fucking shite. It's not the end of the world. I'm not paralysed by pain, I'm not crying from it, so I'm hardly critical, but I need to be alone and curl up somewhere warm and I'm amazed I lasted as long as I did in the show.
I'll be okay tomorrow, if a bit cautious about what I eat. But for now, I just want it to go away.
And I feel bad for skipping out on Katie and Mohawk, and for not getting to see the end of the show, and that today has been such a lovely day and that my crappy, crappy body had to ruin things.
As of Monday, I'm going as gluten free as I can. Out goes the pasta and the bread for a start and we'll see where things lead from there.
