Wobbly Head And Wobbly Legs

This is a blog about depression. If you are easily offended or take offence to my very sarcastic humour, please do not read any further. Mental illness is not a joke; it is not something to point fun at and I fully understand that. BUT…when the going gets tough, sarcasm and humour is my defence and so I will be parading it around all over this blog.


If you need help, please get it. Whilst I hope this has a happy ending, I don’t know yet and given I’ve not been able to fix myself, I really don’t want others using this as a ‘How To Be Happy for Beginners v2.0’




Day 2 of doing this alone and I’m wobbly, both in the head and the legs! My over organising from a couple of nights ago is now annoyingly buzzing at me that I am meant to be at yoga. Am I? I’ll give points away for the guess…no. 20 booster points to you who guessed that was coming. After yoga, the schedule is reminding me that I am meant to be washing my hair. It needs it. It’s not a good look. The thing is, like yesterday, I am planning on tackling public transport to meet lovely yummy mummy Friend KT and gorgeous Godson WT. I really hope I can do well on the steps front again. If I am going to take the train, I need to leave in approximately 4 minutes and 25 seconds… approximately. So, Baptiste dry shampoo comes to my rescue.


I’ve left A LOT of time yet, I still might miss the train. Darn you London traffic and bus routes. I’m anxious. I don’t want to be late. Then I remember. This is the bus that, had I not been having panic attacks and therefore only getting to work by taxi, that would take me to work. It’s going to take me right past my office. My anxiety starts creeping upwards. I don’t know what the fear is but it’s here and it’s real. I don’t want to be me. I want to be someone who is successful and thriving and in that building. Not sat on the bus with too many lbs on my frame, greasy hair and oh hell, no shame, right?, the same t- shirt and trousers that I wore yesterday and the day before. I.e. Surviving not thriving.


We go past and I peer in, hoping it will generate a future image of me succeeding inside the building. Funnily enough, such mirages don’t pop up and consequently I am merely looking through the glass like a crazed lunatic. The bus pulls into the station and I have 10 minutes to battle the self-serve ticket machines and get on the train. I jog for about 2 steps before I am out of breath and can feel my leg muscles groaning but I do make it.


Today is day 5 binge free so to help keep me on track, I’ve packed my lunch. Pesto chicken and a large cracker. It’s yummy. I’ve also packed an energy bar for later this afternoon. I pull my book out and try to absorb some of the words. The train is going to take 55 minutes so my anxiety about missing my stop can press pause for at least 25 minutes.


Friend KT and Baby WT are waiting for me at the station. Baby WT has grown a lot and is increasingly looking just like his lovely mummy. We walk back and sit in the garden chatting. Baby WT decides that I really need to up my banter and lets me know by vomiting all down Friend KT’s leg. Ok, ok, I get the message, I’ll try to be more interesting.  I’m tired and I fear my banter is only getting worse though. I want to be interesting I just don’t seem to have it in me though. Like 2 friends do, we chat for longer than I realised. Time flies when two women are catching up. I head back to London enlisted Friend KT to hold me accountable for walks with her and Baby WT.



I change my route home whilst on the train. I had planned to walk back from the station, which should take 90 minutes, however, leaving later than I realised means it’s going to be a tight squeeze to get home, have supper and be done before my massage tonight. I change to another train and decide the step count can be a little lower today. It’s still a marked improvement on the hospital steps. That’s not really that hard though.


Once home, I’ve 0nly 6.5k steps today, that’s disappointing. Oh well, I need to try not to focus on this too much. Supper is veggie ravioli with some of the new pesto from yesterday. It’s delicious and all consumed just in time for my massage. As ever, the massage is great.


I’ve been absent from my blog for a few days so plan to do a couple of write ups tonight. They take longer than planned though so the Pilates class I over zealously planned is looking unlikely at best. Tomorrow is day 100, that’s another milestone surely. Will it be made ‘better’ by facing up to the gym? I head to bed at a sensible time but thanks to my downstairs neighbour, I get worked up about her guest breaking the building’s no smoking policy so don’t get to sleep until after 0200. My mood is now definitely on a downward trajectory.





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