Father Christmas had a lot on his plate this year. He’s been around for centuries, so the poor fella is bound to be going a little senile. With millions of children and gifts to sort; its not surprising really that items could end up lost or forgotten.
From what I’ve heard, he was fairly heavily medicated this year; and so I can only assume that his often drug induced defuddled state; is accountable for the art easel I uncovered today in our bedroom wardrobe.
I wonder if he’s forgotten anything else?
Tonight my brain is working overdrive. There is now a plan in place for my return to work. I’m going back next Thursday 31st Jan with a 9.30 am start.
I will work 1 day next week, 2 days the following and gradually build up to 4 days per week.
In terms of days worked I now need to try and change little mans days at nursery. I didn’t get the Tuesdays off I was hoping for. There are reasons for this that I can accept, but it probably means losing out on the toddler group unless they can accimadatw me on another day.
I’m trying to be optimistic this evening. I’m telling myself that this is a positive step. Work will give me a focus, give me another reason to get up in the morning. Work will give me back adult conversations and a sense of status. I used to be proud of what I do.
Am I scared?; YES!
Am I catastrophising? YES
Am I fit to return?; only time will tell.
Can I do this?; Both K and CPN would gently stroke my arm and say YES. It has to be YES. There’s no going back now.
I went to the gym again last night. I didn’t go because I wanted to. I went because there was a strong compulsion to go, a compulsion driven by the fish supper I’d eaten earlier as comfort, but couldn’t expel as OH was loitering around me.
I also went because I was disgusted with myself, and I was craving the intensity, followed by calm that burning would usually provide.
My chest is in agony from a pulled muscle but I attacked the cross trainer with gusto! It did not lift my angst, or ease the self loathing that persisted to penetrate through my blasting headphones. I could barely breathe as I struggled to hold myself together, wheezy chested and tears tricking down my face camoflauged with sweat under a peaked cap.
I attacked the spinning bike before I left until my body couldn’t muster anymore effort, and my limbs were truely exhausted.
It was not a healthy gym session. It served it’s calorie burning purpose but there was no endorphin rush, just sheer exhaustion.
I came home soaked in sweat, showered and in place of the burning I still desperately craved I swallowed 3 sleeping pills.
Still sleep eluded me. Tonight I’ll swallow 4.
I’ve just completely broken down on OH. There are many reasons that I’m finding today tough;
I’m going in tomorrow to discuss my return to work and I’m not ready. I lied a little to get the nod from Occi Health and right now I’m regretting those lies.
I’ve had a psychiatrist review today and that’s resulted in yet another dosage increase. They have no answers either for my F##ked up head.
Today was my last contact with my CPN as she leaves to take on a new role. Words can’t describe how much this loss has floored me. She’s been my lighthouse in the fog, my buoyancy aid through rough seas and my corner man through every punch that life has thrown at me off late. I’m struggling to process this.
And to top it all off there’s just the weight of greyness, cripplung doubts and self loathing that I cannot shake.
As I’ve said, I’ve broken down on OH. He sat quietly for a moment, drank his mug of tea and has now taken himself off to bed to “lie down for a bit”
All I really needed was a hug. Can someone please swoop me into their arms?
I’ve noticed lately that thoughts are becoming more and more muddled. I have frequent memory lapses and today at lunch with a friend, I couldn’t flipping string sentences together.
OH has noticed slurred speech at times, though usually after my night time sleep aid indulgence. However I’ve also noticed difficulties during the day. My mouth is often Sahara dessert dry, which could be a factor, but I am a little worried.
Well it’s official, I’m going back to work. It took some lies and half truths, but the doc eventually agreed it will be good for me.
I’ve read his report;;” I recommend that Dr. Loopy is completely supernumarery for the first couple off weeks” This makes me feel a bit pathetic. I can return but not be entrusted with anything. I can return but treat me delicately or I might crack.
I’m at the stage where I do need to go back. Financially we can’t struggle on any longer and I need another reason to get up in the morning.
I’m scared though; absolutely petrified that I’ll crumble again. I’ve not recovered to quite the extend I would have hoped for by now.
I guess I’ll never truly know how I’ll cope until I try. So tomorrow I shall phone my boss and set the wheels in motion.
Today I had my last home visit from my current CPN. I just about held it together. I desperately wanted to hug her as she left, but had I done so, I would have crumbled and never let her go.
It’s another devastating blow. She’s assured me that her successor is as kind and competent as she is, but I find that hard to believe.
I’m returning to work soon and I feel like I need her. Everything is changing; new psychology refferal, back to work, and now a new CPN. When your mood swings like mine does, it’s hard to cope with changes. It’s tougher still when the person you’re losing, is excellent and irreplaceable.
I’m feeling lost this evening. I’m scared and stressed and not sure if I have the strength to keep going.
I need to take my bike out.