Guilt of a fatty

I don't even want to write a blog post this week, but I didn't write one last week, and I keep reminding myself this round is all about consistency. Who the hell am I to even know what consistency means? I wrote the definition somewhere, I can't remember it though, because if I did I wouldn't keep telling myself it's doing the same thing over and over. Truth is, life is being lived way beyond the 12wbt perimeters for me at the moment, and to be quite frank it's the last thing on my mind. In saying that though, I've been sticking to my calories, but not giving a whole lot of a shit about it.

Since my daughter was about 8 months old I knew there was something not quite right happening with her, she would just stare into space for what seemed like ages, but was probably no more than 40 seconds. Of course I took her to the doctor straight away, but was brushed off. These 'spells' started becoming more frequent at some point late last year, so again I took her to the DR and pretty much demanded she see a paediatrician and be referred to some sort of neurological doctor. To cut a long story short, on Thursday it was confirmed that my 5 year old has epilepsy. Everyone I've told so far, which isn't that many have all said the same thing 'Oh you know its fine, so many people have it, it's really manageable'. That is all really true information, for some reason, I really don't understand why I feel immense guilt. There is significant evidence indicating that forceps deliveries can cause a child to have epilepsy (that's how Sophie was delivered) and I keep thinking to myself, what if when they wanted to give me a C Section I had just let them instead of demanding a 'natural' birth? I know I can't change time, but now my child has this neurological disease that requires me giving her foreign medicine twice a day and none of that sits well with me.

So tonight is the first time she's had the drug that's been prescribed 'Epilim' and of course in order to get her to swallow it I had to pin down my 5 year old, block her nose and literally force her to take it. It's emotionally draining on both of us and it's not something that is enjoyable. This really weird thing happens when you become a single parent, you automatically overcompensate with your child. You have all those intuitions that you have when you're in a 'real' family and then some on top. Your protection emotionally and physically of them becomes intense, almost a co-dependent relationship is formed. So I feel guilty that Sophie has Epilepsy so automatically I go into this mode of making sure every base is covered, and freak at the slightest indication that my child is suffering, to the point where a little girl at her school called her gross the other day and I busted that kid, that's not something I would normally do.

Guilt is a funny thing, it's an emotion I think I bare deep down into my soul, one that probably will never leave me, and heck I could probably start my own religion based on the amount of guilt trapped inside me. This week I don't want to eat, I don't want to exercise, I don't really want to do anything, I just want my child to be safe and loved and 'normal'. Time won't stop for me I get that, the sun will rise another day, I get that, and maybe I'm just fearing the unknown.

I'm also really unwell at the moment and my tooth pain is intense, it's also exam week at uni so the stress is on there. I'm sorry this blog isn't more entertaining or goal oriented or success oriented, but it's what has really gone on this week.