Mush and Waffle

There were several things I wanted to write about today but it all seems to be garbled in my head. Somewhat painful and frustrating. Saw GP last Thursday. Signed off for another two weeks. It would be a good time to go Up North if my truck was road worthy. Rang Mum and Dad and suggested he pick us up "We'll think it through and ring you back." A week later... Nowt. Braved Morrisons yesterday afternoon. Not too bad. Couldn't find the tea/coffee though. Searched up and down several times and still couldn't locate them. Thought about asking a boy but it was just a thought, after all, you can't hide the tea isle can you, surely? One more look and still no joy. Left with a bit of a chuckle "Morrisons looses Tea Isle in reshuffle" Got some tea and coffee from the Co-Op this afternoon. Max has finally submitted to the fact that I Will Brush Him. Still spending most of my time in bed, hiding. Radio 4 twittering quietly in the background. Won £5.40 on the Lottery yesterday. I'm not knocking it, after all it paid for today's ticket. Bought a book for Terry yesterday. "The Horologicon SIGNED by Mark Forsyth 1st Edition", Ebay to the rescue once again. A sale inspired by Hugh Dennis reading excerpts on Radio 4. I have had a few bouts of feeling bored in the last couple of days, therefore am I getting better? According to "Stats" my blog has had 5 views today. Who? Why? Really?

Double up

I finally got to speak to a GP yesterday who then suggested I come in and see a GP "Maybe think about upping your dose..." The only appointment I could get was next Thursday "She only works one day a week." I've since taken it upon myself to double up on my medication. I'm currently prescribed 50mg Sertaline. For what difference it's made it may as well be a placebo. How do we know it isn't?

Family Ties?

In the last few weeks I've found myself looking back at the family tree files and photographs and discussing family tree issues with Leanne via face-book. I've also been very depressed to the point of seeing my GP and getting some medication, and, coming back here for a bit of self expression and a hope of a bit of self therapy. It was then that I noticed "Has it really been 3 years?" I said to myself. Three years since I was last looking at the family tree files. Three years since I was last on here. Three years since I started taking medication for a previous bout of depression. So! What's the link? I can tell you I've spent the last fortnight, when not walking Max or eating, curled up in bed, fetal like, hoping the world would just go away.

Shush!

Still off work. I need to arrange to see the doctor and get a sick note for this week but I haven't even got the inclination to do that. I've done absolutely nothing but the bare essentials for over a week. I walk Max, eat, and sleep all the other times. Just standing waiting for the kettle to boil I have the urge to close my eyes and sleep. I've worked out that I can avoid going to the shops again today. More fish fingers and oven chips for tea tonight and there's still some bread and a couple of eggs for breakfast tomorrow. May even be able to stretch oven chips and fish fingers for another day. What a state. I was hoping that the weight would have lifted a little by now and I'd have the energy to start on the road to recovery - no such luck. And why "Shush!"? Because I find myself nearly blurting out what I'm thinking. It's like I've lost the filter between thought and mouth. I have no patience. A lady, a nice lady, whom I bumped into yesterday and was chatting to, telling her why I wasn't at work, said to me this morning when I bumped into her again "You feeling any better?" I caught myself muttering "No. Do you really think I'm gonna get better over night?" Though she never heard me it made me realise I was in a dangerous place. Maybe I need my dose upping. Or just more time. "Time's a great healer" or so they say, well it isn't when you're running out of patience. I'm fed up with being fed up and I'm even more fed up of waiting for the sock puller upper to come along.

Things just got worse

Finally managed to get out yesterday. Found a little series of caches we could do over by Halnaker, just outside Chichester. Christian and I had a picnic here many many years ago. About 2 miles from the location truck was struggling and chucking out smoke "not again?" we/I parked up and we went for a short walk doing a few caches and a gentle climb up to the wind mill. I could tell Max was glad to have the freedom to roam new territory. I was just worried about the truck but thought it best to let it cool down before I could have my worries confirmed. On arrival back raised the bonnet and my fears were confirmed. Oil all over the place. The rocker shaft had come loose again, but how? Dug out the tools and tightened up what I could, one bolt was obviously broken. Hopefully we can limp home. It does mean that Max and I are now effectively housebound. I have no money to get it fixed, and I know it's going to be a big job, maybe even an engine swap. What to do about Christmas? I was planning to go Up North for the Christmas break and do some odd jobs for Mum and Dad. I know they may come and pick us up but that would leave us housebound Up North. Welcome to Hell.

Spent all day in bed

Nothing much more to add really. Got up, walked Max. Had a brew. Went back to bed. got up. Made a sandwich and a brew. Went back to bed. Got up. Walked Max. Zapped a pizza. Made a brew. Went back to bed. It's Max I feel sorry for. The guilt isn't making me feel any better. There's the Monthly Meet of the local Geocachers this evening at a pub just up the road and it sounds weird to say this but, I don't feel well enough to go. Sounds silly when you put it into words. I'm depressed. Not well enough to go out. That in itself is depressing, and frustrating. I'd love to go out. After all it is the last meet before the Christmas meet and I have a prize to donate for the raffle. Grrr! I've been reading The Wrong Boy by Willie Russell. A novel set in the mid 80's I guess. I'm not sure Carole realised how depressing it really is when she leant it to me. Child abuse and Morrisey. Whoopie do! I have to admit I am hooked though some of it is hard work. A bit like reading this diatribe I suppose.

Defeating Gravity

Had a few days where it's really difficult to get out of bed. Even when I do and Max has had his walk I've been finding myself hiding back under the sheets. This is sooooo frustrating. Yesterday and today I did manage to get out of the house by late lunchtime. I've been tidying up a few of the local-ish geocaches and using that as inspiration to get out. Even then it's been hard. For the last couple of days I've also not had much of an appetite, even now I'm forcing myself to make a pizza, just waiting for the oven to warm up. I hate eating this late. I didn't go to the drinks meet and greet evening Guy had organised on Sunday. Even though it was held here and I new most of the people I found myself having a massive anxiety attack and once again crawling back to bed, frustrated, almost tearful. Ho hum!

Self Help on the NHS

I'd forgot that this was here. I'm signed off sick today, anxiety and depression, again, but I want to tray and make the most of my time off and if that just means having a rant and getting a few things off my chest then so be it. Hopefully, there will be a few jolly bits too. Right! I've told myself that I'm not procrastinating this morning and that I am going to tidy my room. So far I've wasted nearly an hour trying to get this account reset. Ok, Itunes and Hoover here I come...