I

Almost broke up with The Mister last night.

When the words were coming out of my mouth my brain - at least I think it was - jumped in and cut my sentence off.
It's cliche but I literally choked on them. They clumped together at the back of my throat, tangled around each other, and blocked the way.







I've been told not to make major decisions until I'm recovering

So the deal at the moment.

I had my appointment and the doctor has now decided that I have to go back to the mental health centre to see a psychologist again. She's put my name down on the waiting list, but it can take up to 9 weeks before I get seen so I'm being left on the practise councillor's waiting list and I have to see the doc every two weeks until someone sees me.
I refused medication again but she wants me to reconsider my choice and said I can make an emergency appointment at any time if/when I'm ready. She's also sending a message to the mental health care centre at my local hospital so if at any time I can't cope or lose it completely I can be taken there and will have a room to stay in (it didn't come to that when I was suffering worse than this so I shouldn't need a room).

That's my crazy lady news anyway.

Normal life hasn't exactly picked up much. I'm still stuck at home most of the time without much to do but The Mister has taken more time to call or text me on the days where we can't see each other. It's a start on what I yelled at him about last week but I've yet to see any extra time spent with me properly. He did come and meet me after I donated blood yesterday, stayed calm in a room full of giant needles and bought me a lot to drink as I kept feeling wobbly. He took me home, cooked and stayed with me for a few hours until he had to run to meet the band.
It was funny when he came to meet me. Him rushing from work teamed with the heat made him look awful. He came in, walked over to where I was sat and a nurse immediately ran up to him, pulled out a chair and offered him something to drink.

"I haven't donated, I'm just picking my missus up."
"Oh...are you alright though? you don't look very well at all."
"It's just the heat. I'm fine."
Lady laying on an emergency bed who had not long come around from passing out: "Haha, he needs this bed more than I do."
Strange man nursing a coffee: "Boy just needs a tan!"
"I got 3rd degree burns from the sun when I was a kid. I don't like intentionally tanning."
"Get Shell to slap some fake stuff on you."
"She'll make me streaky on purpose."
Me: "SLANDER!"

That was ever so slightly amusing. Just the fact that he looked worse than all of us lot who had just had a pint of blood taken in the heat.

I've put my cheque in the bank now so I'm waiting for that to clear so I can book mine and Emz's spa day. She needs to give me £50 so I can put that in and pay the lot on lastminute.com
I'm looking forward to being pampered.

Tomorrow.

I don't want the morning to happen.
Can't I just skip right past it with sleep?


It's my appointment with the doctor and I'm so nervous I feel sick. Mum is writing a letter for me to take with me about how I've been at home since the depression hit and I have a funny feeling that's going to make meds happen. I'm in two minds about taking them.
I don't see life getting any better...that's a reason to take them, just to see if maybe I can start to see beyond the day I'm in. I'm just really scared of things going wrong and them making me feel worse than I already do.

I wish this wasn't happening.

It's day two...

Of me trying to sort my life out.

So obviously yesterday was day one...sorting out what to do about The Mister.

After waiting around yesterday for him because he said he'd see me and it didn't happen, I sent a text saying we need to talk as soon as he has a moment free in his "busy schedule."
When he called he was walking along to the youth club at his old church.
I pretty much went mad.
I yelled at him down the phone, told him every single thing that has been making me unhappy about the relationship, cut off all his crap excuses before he could make them, cried my face off, made him cry, yelled some more.
My throat is killing me from shouting and crying, but it was worth it. He's going to sort it all out and that's not just some crappy excuse I've listened to and believed like I have done in the past. I've given him an ultimatum: one month to sort out his schedule and make for time for me in his life or I'm leaving him.
I've even marked off the day on my calendar.

Today, being day two as I said, is me looking around for spa treatments. I desperately NEED a bit of pampering for a couple of hours at least. I feel disgusting.
I'm looking at two for one offers so Ems or Mand can come with me too (I don't fancy going alone). My Granddad gave me £50 as a graduation gift to spend on celebratory drink but I'd rather be treated.

Tomorrow, day three, I'm off out for the day with my cousin Mand. I have no idea where we're going yet but I'll think of somewhere. Anyplace with a bar is good really.

Saturday, day four, I'm FINALLY going to see The Mister's niece. She was born two months ago but every time I've asked to visit, and his sister as asked me to visit, he fobbed me off with excuses. Not this time. I'm seeing her and then he and I are going out...on MY orders!

Sunday, day 5, is a lazy Sunday with my parents.

Monday, day 6, The Mister is coming. We're going to talk more.

Tuesday, day 7, I have an appointment with my doctor in the morning. She's going to run me through her depression diagnostic again and we're going to discuss me going on some form of medication. She wants me on some form of Prozac - fluoxetine, I think - for a little while along with the counselling appointments I'm due to start in a few weeks time.
After that I'm off to give blood in the afternoon. I just need to find someone around the area to get me safely onto a bus home afterward because I tend to feel sick and sleepy for a few hours afterward.

That's pretty much the week ahead in a nutshell.
I'm trying to fight away my blues as best I can.

Poo Drops.

My parents are pretty much making me go back to the doctor this week instead of next. Mum is concerned about the amount of crying fits that are happening (some I'm not even aware of) and Dad just looks lost when trying to speak to me.

I don't want to go back early and I really don't want the prozac crap she keeps trying to get me on.






Someone make this go away :o(

And it continues...

I'm so far easing up the loneliness and the crap thoughts by reading. I'm managing a novel a day so far...sometimes a novel and a half if they're not ridiculously long.
As well as that, I'm drinking enough cider and cheap wine to take the edge off of some of the worst feelings. I don't have enough to get drunk, just enough to numb things a little bit.
I've been trying to plan little trips out for myself. Museums or galleries or even a wander around a new place in London I've not explored before as a treat for putting in the effort to get washed and dressed but I haven't really managed to get out of the house very much as of yet.
When none of that is happening I just sleep and usually manage to fall under the haze before I have enough time to think and have my eyes well up.
It's better to have that back than to be plagued by insomnia again. That brought the count up to 2 books...and that's just stupid.

I'm trying to fight it off but I'm failing to see the point in doing so if I'm honest.

Anyway, back to reading.

Going to get help.

I've gotten really sick.
I'm tired all the time, upset and angry for no reason, nothing is exciting, I can't be bothered to get up in the morning or even get washed and dressed, I fall asleep during the day, I cry without realising it and my head feels like there's a build up of fog that won't shift.

I realise now I need to get myself some help again before it's too late and the fog takes up a permanent positon.
I've tried to find places to go, walk in clinics, that offer this stuff free but they all charge. I'm going to have to go back to seeing Mo at my GP surgery. I'm scared of my doctor so braving the phone and her examination room seems like such a lot just to talk to a woman who resembles Penfold from Danger Mouse.

I don't know what to do with myself in the meantime. I usually sleep to get rid of time but it's making my whole body ache.
It's either that or I drink. I knock back just enough to feel giddy and stop the world from stinging.