I’m a week antidepressant free. One whole entire week. That’s 5 days longer than the last time I tried, which as you may recall was a bit of an epic fail. This time? I’m ok, although it’s been challenging. I’m having to consistently remind myself that what I’m feeling now isn’t depression taking hold again, but rather my brain rebalancing. At least I hope that’s what it is. Today, right now, feels particularly challenging. A friend called in this morning, and we had a good two hour chat. She kept apologising for coming in on top of me when I’m not feeling great, but for those two hours, I forgot about being dizzy, about head zaps, about desperately wanting to speak to Therapist, about being insanely angry, about being sad. I forgot. It was wonderful. Even better was that she came reasonably early, so I had to get up out of bed, get dressed, and try and put a little smacht on the house.
Then she left, and the walls came crashing in and I could hardly catch my breath. So for some reason, I decided it was a good time to do something I should have done months ago. I blocked Therapist on facebook (actually it was news to me that you can do this, but there you go, that’s today’s lesson learnt.) I realise for most people, this may seem like a strange thing to have to do, but for me, it’s a massive leap. You see, when I feel bad, when I feel trapped, my first thought is generally that I want to speak to Therapist, but, I can’t, so what’s the next best thing? Why a good, old fashioned facebook stalk of course. Guess what? Profoundly unhelpful. PROFOUNDLY. I don’t get to speak to her, I don’t get to feel any better, I get guilt for invading her privacy. So, I blocked her. Now, as far as my facebook account is concerned, she doesn’t exist. I suspect I may live to regret that decision in oh……maybe half an hour or so??
|The gentle reminder I’ll get if I try and look her up again|
The problem is, I keep looking to her to fix me. I’m good with other people, I’m starting to see that. I can listen, I can empathise, I can be kind. I cannot do it for myself. Even more, I don’t particularly want to. I think that’s a big part of what fuels this need to be in contact with Therapist – she is unendingly kind to me and never fails to make me feel better. But I’ve got to start. Maybe taking this week off is the start. Maybe blocking her is the start, because ultimately it does me no good to just stare at her page, and quite frankly, it makes me feel weird.
Today feels a bit rubbish. I can dwell on it. I can spiral. But I’m not going to. I’m going to take myself out into the red alert storm that’s raging outside, see if my GP will ok a few more days off work, and then I’m going to come home, do some yoga, light a fire, and try and centre myself. I am responsible for me. No one else. Not my GP, not Therapist, not Hubby – me. That means I have to be the one making the decisions about what will help, and what’s more, I have to act on them. It will take time, but I’m determined to get there.