It’s all good.
I was all showered up and dressed and walking in the bright Derbyshire sunshine towards my appointment with the GP so that he could resume my repeat prescription of Propranolol or whatever (it still feels like a joke name for me, I have to look it up everytime). I was very happy, as I said; my sister is coming to visit with my brother in law and their son, they are all awesome people whom I adore, but I have been triggered by him before and it’s always been a struggle and so I was very happy because now I know more about me and I am aware of my social anxiety being the main trigger for Bipolar or BPD (or DID! Guess we’ll find out
soon at some point) symptoms, so I was thinking well I’ll have my Propranolol (must be the lol at the end) so I won’t even the get the slightest little bit stressed, hurray!!!
I walked along the lovely looking Calow and its lovely looking gardens and up Rose Avenue (I know, all flower names, how cute is that?) and strode into the reception all happy and glowing only to find out that, of course, the fucking appointment is in the Brimington practice… which I can’t reach in time without a car. Receptionist was so lovely about it, she couldn’t rebook me of course and then she pondered and asked me:
“When you book online, does it say which practice the appointment is in?”
She was delicate, not in the least sarcastic the way a Cambridgite (I know you prefer to be called Cantabrigians but that’s as silly and pompous as you are so suck it) would have been, implying a “you dumb fuck” at the end of their sentence. No, she was being nice. I said:
“Yes, it does. I’ve been checking for weeks if there was one sooner and I was always checking they were here and not in Brimington… I don’t have a car and.. ( and I have hypermobility which means that my legs and feet hurt if I walk too long AND my dog has developed fear of walking too far as well so he can’t help me through it either and SHIT I was really really looking forward to this! – but I didn’t say any of this)… I guess there was a glitch or my eyes went a bit funny.”
She reassured me with a smile (bless these people):
“Well, on Monday at 8 they release the new appointments for Calow, so just go online and book one then!”
What she doesn’t know is the amount of planes and trains and any kind of stuff you name it that I missed or screwed up because of something that has been happening to my brain in the past ten years where I seem to deliberately screw up stuff on calendars and time tracking and even watches stop working for fuck’s sake and so I end up being late and out of place or in the wrong airport or at the wrong time. It’s like I constantly make one of my most recurring nightmares come true [the nightmare being always at the wrong place at the wrong time, getting the wrong train, waking up naked in a bed on a street on a bed or stuff like that, oddly enough since it’s all started to actually happen to me (not the bed thing fortunately) I have stopped having those kind of nightmares. Weird].
So I smile back and say “Yes, of course. Thank you.” and walk out.I want to break down in tears. My eyes fill with them and my thoughts start and I deliberately stop them every time. I say no I will not cry in the street like a bloody idiot. Yes it feels like you’ve been building up expectation for a date with that gorgeous looking guy you can hardly believe would be interested in you and he cancels at the last bloody minute. But no I will not cry because this is not London this is Calow and everyone will know me very soon. I focus on the plants the flowers the sunshine the grass the people and think of my daughter at home and my dog waiting for me and I get home and I grab them both and we go for a short walk and then stop at the swings and play ball. I actively notice the stress building up of things I have to do. I need to work as I didn’t yesterday and finish off preparing the house for my sister. I make a coffee then mop and hoover a bit then drink my cold coffee. I think how amusing it was that as I walked towards the GP this morning I was thinking well when I finished my translations since all I seem to think about now is my blooming mental health I might as well work towards making a difference, my blog could be “How I deal with a neurobiological disorder without meds” because at it stands now I am not keen on going on the meds and I wonder if I can win that challenge just like I challenged myself to have a baby and boy my babes are great, I proved that at least two of them have reached 18 without becoming criminals or alcoholics and the last one is coming along nicely. And then I thought except for the Propranolol , giggling to myself like someone about to score some speed or some acid, except for that because well everyone needs a little help right? Amirite? And then bam, not this time either honey.
So. All in all since I started realising there was possibly something wrong with me years have passed to get me antidepressants first and anti-anxiety later and sign up for mental health assessment. Then I moved towns. Now it’s taken me weeks since I’ve moved to get a blooming GP appointment for myself but thankfully I have a telephone appointment with Mental Health people and even that date I fluctuating in my mind… thought it was the 8th then checked it was the 14th and now I may be wrong so I better check the calendar in which I HOPE I wrote it correctly.
But you know what? When I got home and with my cold coffee I decided “You know what? I am still going to do it. I got this far. It is pretty obvious that my condition was dreadful before I met my husband, and maybe up to and including my third pregnancy. And ok maybe while I was in Cambridge and clinging on to a stupid friend who stupidly decided to go and be happy with a harpie (neither he nor she read my blog so I can bitch about him and her as much as I like). But not only am I living in an incredibly beautiful place now, if I look back I see that actually I have been improving, dramatically. My awareness has helped me immensely, reading these blogs, finally getting answers to lifelong questions of “why am I like this!!” and “who the hell am I really?”… I HAVE been getting better.
So I’m going to try, no, I’m going to do it. If I fail, I fail, then I’ll try again. This blog will help me. I intend to be open as always. And I intend to make no promises, even if I already always made so few… because now I know I can’t.
This is my blog so I won’t apologise about the endless prattle. I want to say two more things: 1) I may not be around much for a few days, as my relatives will be here and the connection is too awful even for sneak reads in the toilet on my phone and 2) If anybody wants tarot readings, please do ask. I normally ask for a token that is completely up to you in return, but it’s difficult at a distance isn’t it? You can offer anything you want, go on my Amazon wishlist, which I’ll update with lots of cheap stuff, send me a postcard or whatever. I won’t be able to do them till later in August, but I’ll happily do it. I always forget to say it. So just mail me at windruffle (at) gmail (dot) com if you want one. They can be very helpful and they give me something that makes me feel useful and focused (their are like meditation for me) so it’s a win-win!
P.S. After posting, I feel much much better already. I have also decide that it’s tough shit that I didn’t finish my work as I hoped, it’ll just have to wait. I’m pretty sure my author can’t pay me the whole thing now anyway. So I’ll continue after they have gone so I can actually enjoy waiting for them rather than get stressed out. That is how I help myself, see?