I am a rabbit of negative euphoria this morning. I didn’t sleep last night.
I had a busy day yesterday, with one thing and another by nine last night I was exhausted. I don’t know how ‘normal’ people manage; I didn’t do much, but I had to be around people most of the day.
I had plans for today, too, but I’m scaling them back to just one thing – sewing club. Clearly my brain has decided that I’m trying to do too much at once and is putting the breaks on. I should have expected it really, I suppose, but I’ve been doing so well for the last week, I thought I might be able to push myself, just a little. I’ve been getting up fairly early too, because I felt so good, and I’ve socialised.
Too much too soon.
I’m going to Lincoln tomorrow, for writing purposes but on Friday I’m doing nothing until I have to go to the doctor’s. It might give me a chance to recover before I have to face a new doctor and explain everything to someone new.
It’s exhausting having to go to the doctor’s once a month to beg for another Med3. The doctors never seem to take mental health conditions seriously. Partly, I think because they’re in a ‘work is good’ mindset and partly through ignorance. They’re not specialists in mental health and seem reluctant to refer patients to those who are. I had to refer myself to the approved NHS counselling provider in the area. And that is limited to eight sessions. It’s all about money as usual.
In other news, I’ve been having brief moments of suicidal ideation again, yesterday was particularly bad for those moments. It’s been a while but I’m not entirely unfamiliar with it, since I’ve had regular moments since I was a depressed and bullied teenager. But I’ve been getting better; at least I admit to it now. Yesterday, I was, as I’ve said, busy and I’d been busy for the last seven days, so by the time I left the house to go to a funeral I was trembling on the edge. Yeah, never a good place. I was convinced that if I ended it then everyone else would be better off. My sisters would have one less person to worry about, my mum would recover from her out anxiety more quickly – it’s my fault she’s been signed off sick with anxiety, I’m clearly ruining her new life, – and my dad will get less nonsense from his insecure, manipulative wife for some unspecified crime I’ve committed against her.
/Stop panicking all of you/ @ my family who read this
I’ve worked through it now, it’s guilt talking and the messed up part of my psyche that struggles with stress. It always happens when I get to a certain level of anxiety. I am aware of what’s happening – now – and once I’ve had a cry and distracted myself (in yesterday’s case I sat through the entire funeral examining the architecture of the church and noticed things I’d missed in the past) I manage to get beyond it.
All is good on that score at the moment. I want it to stay that way, so I’m scaling back for a while. I have a ‘to-do’ list from my therapist, involving lots of social interaction, but I don’t think I’m quite ready for it. I might have to change it to an ‘either/or’ list. For instance, if I have to go to an appointment, I don’t have to go to one of my social interaction activities, because people are draining and over-exposure makes my depression and anxiety worse.
Right, now I’ve got that out of my system, I’m going to start my day, the dogs want to go out and I need breakfast.
Have a good day, and remember it gets better,