Finally went to a doctor about my rotting insides after enduring a bout of uncontrollable vomiting until I thought I was going to suffocate at Kellyn's house about a week and a half ago.
Turns out my irritability has given me an irritable bowel, hence the intense intestinal pains/cramps/rotting feelings, and my irritability has given my tummy an excuse to resurrect my ulcer.
Treatment = control my stress.
So simple, right? No.
Every time I get upset I start puking. It's fucking annoying. So far, there's no blood so at least the damn thing's not bleeding... yet. If I don't get my stress under control & my symptoms don't go away or at least lessen in severity/frequency, I'll have to go to a GI Specialist. Or that's what the doc said; I don't really HAVE to do anything; I could just continue to let my insides rot away and die. I kind of feel like that's going to happen anyway, and besides how bloated/swollen/chubbed up it's making me in the meantime, I don't really care if it does happen.
It's almost like knowing what my stress/anxiety is doing to me physically has made my stress/anxiety worse; I was a total wreck all week: sicker than usual, weepier than usual, more miserable than usual (something I didn't think was possible). I just want to curl up in a ball and cry forever. I feel like this day in & day out. I'm supposed to be happy - I'm done with probation, I'm done with Concordia, I'm done with fucking TEXAS (almost), I'm about to go home to my momy after being away from her for the longest period of time in my entire life, I'm about to go home to my puppies & my kitties & my crazy stoner/white trash/old Catholic neighbors; why am I so miserable?
OH MY GOD I'm about to rip out my intestines.