I had an awful day yesterday, I was back to being lethargic and no matter how litle I moved the pain was so intense. I went back to the doctors, got some more pain killers and he told me i'd be looking at possibly a month before I started to feel better and the glandular fever lifted. Whilst I was there I told him how I was feeling. I was so down, tearful, felt fat, ugly, like a failure. I must have been in there 45 minutes just crying. We decided it was time to go back on medication for my bipolar, I've been trying to do things on my own, limit my medication to one form but yesterday was the realisation I couldn't do it anymore so I asked for help. For me, asking for help is the hardest thing, I've had such an upbringing that asking for help is wrong, you should be able to manage everything within yourself, but yesterday I knew I needed it. So I'm back on prozac and valium. I'm seeing someone next week about my eating habits. I have my CPN on stand by for anything I may need him for, the urge to cut has been so strong that I know without him I would probably be lay on the floor bleeding right now. I actually feel better for getting it all out though. I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders and now that I've admitted to myself how I feel I can finally start getting things done.