Doing the right thing

More big changes come my way. Something I’ve been trying to avoid for years, today I agreed, nay asked, for.
Sorry to be so vague right now but I’m still trying to get my head around it and the shame I have around the whole situation.
At least I am doing the proper thing and if not fully taking responsibility at least owning the crap.

Yep. This is my mess.

Anybody got an enormous brush & pan to sweep it up with?!

More labels

Yesterday was a big deal, sick I chose mental health over physical and persevered with accomplishing my targets.

A super early start for a volunteer shift at a morning rave, trying my best not to breathe, cough or sneeze near anyone… this plague is a painful annoyance.
After a slow lunch and time in the park, I had an assessment at a CFS clinic.

The short version is that they can’t currently help me, and that I have PTSD. Not really surprising considering my history, and the plague & early start made it all a bit much.

It’s settling in now. I agree with him, I did at the time, but the recommendations he’s going to make are a heavy burden.

I’m to get onto the waiting list for Trauma Therapy. Something that will, by definition, be traumatic.

I should be getting regular psychiatric appointments, outside of and separate to therapy. Conflicted slightly about this as I’d enjoyed the feeling of no longer requireing this. But I’ve known for a while that I currently need it, so I guess that’s a bonus.

And finally, he wants me to start taking lithium. I don’t want to, for a whole host of reasons, and my former psych who I’m about to be referred back to, knows this and knows my reasons.
He was successful in getting me to take carbamazapine. I’m still struggling with the side effects of that one several years after stopping it. It’s going to be one hell of a struggle to swallow that pill. Bad pun intended.

I’m not well enough to properly process all of this, and not sick enough to put it aside. I kinda want to curl up in someone’s arms and forget about it all right now. That’s not possible, so junk food and sweets it is.

Memories

It’s been 8 years since I picked up Crack. 7.5 since I had an alcoholic drink.

I feel like I *should* be celebrating. But I’m depressed.
It doesn’t help that I had a horrible, stressful and humiliating waste of time assessment by ATOS on Monday.

It’s been hard, I don’t know how I’ve done it at times, and I’ve been sorely tempted too many times.

But October has become associated with death of loved ones. It’s been a year since a dear friend passed away and 4 years since my grandmother passed. And I feel sad.

No One Spoke

Storyshucker

Friends and I enjoyed sun, sand, and surf with other beachgoers on a recent Saturday. Sitting slathered in sticky sunscreen beneath our umbrellas, we pointlessly brushed sand from our legs as we discussed evening plans. The seagulls overhead laughed louder than the swimmers splashing in nearby waves while those of us on the beach napped, read, or simply watched people. My friends discussed how relaxing it was and how nice it would be to sleep late the next morning.

Sleep late? I mentioned to them that we only get so many sunrises in a lifetime. Shouldn’t we get up to look at a few?

They stared blankly for a second then shook their heads in unison. No.

In the wee hours of the next morning, alone in the dark, I started the short walk from house to beach guided only by dim lights above the boardwalk. It was eerily quiet at…

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