So, this post will be a little different to the usual ones. It’s a Sunday night and I am at home with my cats. The weekend has been busy and I’ve even managed to walk 12,000 steps today. I’ve socialised, I’ve washed, I’ve even brushed my teeth. But there is a but. There is always a bloody but. The but this time is that I am not in a good place. I am feeling like there is no way out of this. On an intellectual level, I know that this will pass. I know I’ll be able to see a future for myself and that I’ll enjoy things again. Another but though… but, right now, sat at the kitchen table, I can’t see a future.
This weekend involved a lot of my favourite happy things:
- My Aunt came to London
- Supper at my Sister’s & brother-in-laws new place
- The ballet
- Georgian food
- A very very good friend staying the night
- Walking again (in the sun)
- Poncey London coffee (almond flat white)
- Sunday roast
- Even more walking
- Colouring cat pictures
- Looking at cat pictures on Instagram
So, that’s a list of 13 things and I’ve definitely missed out a few. Yet, I have struggled all weekend. I have felt like I don’t want to be here.
I’m going to take my night meds – the recommended amount, not an OD I promise – and I am going to go to bed. I am going to get up and go to day care tomorrow (depression doesn’t stop for bank holidays so neither does the therapy) and I am going to talk about this. I also promise to work out how to tell my psychiatrist the truth.
Fingers crossed normal service will resume tomorrow