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’
After the awful day yesterday, I am trying to start today with a PMA (positive mental attitude). I am heading north this afternoon to spend the weekend with friends. Given it’s a Friday double whammy, bank holiday and the start of half term, I am planning to set off straight after lunch. The problem is, I am struggling to get going. I’ve not slept well and all I want to do is go back to bed. What I should be doing is packing, cleaning the flat, doing the litter tray, sorting the recycling out – I really do love it! – and sorting the cat’s food out. Instead, I find myself on the sofa not moving.
When I’m finally up, it’s melting. Literally melting! My summer clothes are in the attic… that means a sweaty task of setting up the ladder, going up and getting them. ARGH! Today is pay day too. Given the newly multi-coloured excel with my finances neatly laid out, it’s time to put as much money as I can on the cards to pay them off. Once that’s done, I throw some random clothes into the suitcase. I’d made a long list to neatly tick off as I go but I am not in the mood for a list right now. Once packed, and once the cats are sorted, I jump in the shower and then head to the car. It’s 45 minutes later than I planned to set off but it’s only 13:15 so I should be fine. The car is loaded and I am dripping with sweat so on goes the air conditioning. The journey is due to take about 3 hours so I should completely miss the rush hours – it’s never only 1 hour these days – on the motorway. I’ve got a drink and some sherbet sweets on the front seat next to me to keep me going. Before I’ve even reached the M1, I’ve eaten ¾ of the pack, now my tongue is fizzing of its own accord. The traffic is slow and I don’t understand how. In fact, the M1 is more like a car park. This is going to be painful!
I don’t think my boy cat is too happy I am leaving
4 hours 30 minutes later, I am finally pulling into the car park for my friends. That was not fun! But…YAY! I’m here. 2 friends live next to each other serendipitously so I get a double whammy of friendship love. We are going to have a girly night and leave the two friends husbands to have a guy’s night. We head out for supper and it’s the most I’ve drunk in a long while. I’d estimate I had a whole bottle of rosé wine over the course of 4 hours. It does not mix well with my meds, this was not a clever idea! Thankfully, after supper, we head home rather than to a bar, I’m pleased as for many reasons, I don’t think a bar would have been a good idea.
As I tuck into bed, I am happy to be here. I don’t feel like my ‘old self’ but I am happy to be with two sets of friends (and a puppy) that love me so much.