Lost the battle but not the war.

I didn't particularly want to go and see my GP, the one I've been used to for twenty years; who I now think was probably rubbish, has retired. I have to get used to someone else or a lot of someone elses.

I haven't seen a doctor in a long time. Nothing needed fixing or tablets or referrals. And besides I'm not at all comfortable with the receptionist, a waiting room, I'm impatient with delays and can convince myself during the delay that I'm perfectly fine and don't need to be there so I walk into the consultation room feeling like a fraud which makes describing symptoms succinctly difficult.

I went anyway. I'm not okay. I sat at my kitchen table and listened to my body, my feelings and not my thoughts. Stood up, walked out of the house and to the GP practice.

I'm not great at asking for help. I'd rather chew my own arm off. It feels like a weakness. A flaw. A defeat. Not being strong enough to handle whatever it is I need to handle.

And I'm not handling things very well. I thought I was doing okay but feel that I'm not. Not really.