So, there it is.
I guess that was a manic episode, lasting on and off a few days. It may have been compounded by: lack of anxiety pills, for which I have now booked the earliest possible GP appointment (the 7th of August), though I will keep trying to book an earlier one) and my period. It was all so gradual and “smooth” I had no idea it was really happening, I felt like it was just me being a little less… tolerant? If I look at the specific words and ideas I was expressing I can’t see it, I can’t understand it… just like the many times I would melt in tears wondering what on earth I did wrong… but if I picture the faces of those around me, my husband’s in particular, but also my sensitive sons, my daughter’s “what’s going on with you and dad?” and my son’s delightful girlfriend’s nervous and occasional immediate change of subject, I know it. The bitch, for want of a better word, though perhaps a better word would be “The Unnecessary Tiger”, was back.
Another way I know it’s happened is the feeling of shame and guilt I woke up with today. My husband was sleeping as he has been ill, so I didn’t roll over, hug him and sob “I’m sorry”.
I also couldn’t because my 8 yr old daughter, who yesterday told me I’m the best mummy in the world (which my second son gently corrected: “She is the ONLY mummy”), and who told me a few days before that I was always happy (“Really? – I thought – Always? Oh I have done so well if that’s what you saw, my darling… But I guess I am always happy to see YOU“), was there.
So I’m back here. I made a cup of tea, and can see where it would head if I’m not careful: straight into depression, misery and self-commiseration. I know better know and I know I must stop the descent into the vortex of blackness, but I am also going to do something productive as a response to that guilt and shame: I have booked my doctor’s appointment, and I will now, with great joy and relief, self-refer myself to Talking Mental Health Derbyshire. Yes, because last night I found this out, in Derbyshire you CAN skip the middle man, skip the real or imagined shame of a small-town GP, and go straight to mental health services. I am happy beyond measure, after my nth dawning this morning I will not think about whether it will be used against me… that was Tiger talking 😦
I will go two steps forward into the process of getting diagnosed and therefore hopefully, perhaps, helped.
So, one more good reason to celebrate wonderful Derbyshire: clean, tidy, joyful, REALLY nice people, quirky enough to be interesting and the highest concentration of bikers in Britain: what’s not to like? (Don’t worry husband it’s the bikes I’m interested in, not the guys, though they sure are a friendly bunch:)).
And just as a reminder of what glorious views are around here, as they are strangely under-photographed, I will borrow a beautiful picture of Barley Fields from Ashford Canvas Prints (Ashford Canvas Prints, if you mind, let me know and I’ll take it down).