laugh hysterically.? I’m lost for words.
Today I had a follow up call with the lovely lady from social services. She informed me that my CMHT are planning to discharge me from their care. It’s frigging laughable. I’m not much further on, they’ve done nothing to help me and now I’m just being dumped!! The CMHT haven’t told me this yet, but I guess it’s coming.
This little nugget of information was concerning enough to the lady from SS, that she is recommending a transfer to SS care. She is recommending that we have more input and family support. I guess she fears for little man. I do too.
As for the CMHT, fine, absolutely fine, FUCK OFF!!! I’m done with you anyway!!
And not that oul soccer shite. Proper football!! Gaelic football!!! ;0 (Ok I do like soccer too)
I made an effort. I found a club and made enquiries. Tonight despite all my anxiety and fear, I forced myself to go!!! The original “Beautiful Game”
I’m glad I did. Ok I was probably the most geriatric there! (@34) I lacked kicking accuracy and down right sprinting pace but fuck it, I gave it guts and had some fun.
The next training session is Friday, and I’ll be there!
Good job Loopy!!
I’m a mum, I’m a good mum, no actually I’m a great mum!!! I need to be kinder to myself.
COVID had been horrendous for many reasons but for me the isolation and lockdown with my beautiful, funny, cheeky, boisterous little man, has shown me I can do this. I love him and he loves me too.
Just take each day as it comes and tackle one thing at a time.
I CAN DO THIS!!!!
It bugs me that they’ve literally just printed off a booklet from another health trust, and they’ve not even attempted to adapt it, or personalise it. I get that it might be a useful tool, but it feels like an after thought, something printed randomly from the web. Plagiarised!!!!!!
Putting that aside, I will complete it. I will attempt to log my feelings, eating habits and use of not so good weight control measures. I will try.
It’s all so blah!!!!! But at least I guess, it’s a start at helping me.
A year ago today; I wrote a note and swallowed pills. I wanted to die. Thankfully panic took over and I called 999.
I can’t believe it has been a year. I can’t believe I had a proper mental breakdown and not 1 but 2 psychiatric ward admissions. I can’t believe that 1 year on, we’ve left work, moved home, and I’m just about to take on “my dream job” back on Irish soil.
I think off those women and men that somehow brought me back from the brink regularly. The amazing psych nurses, support workers, psychologists and care co-ordinators that dug me out off hell, and gave me hope.
I really should send them a thank you.
1 year on, and I’m hopeful. 1 year on, I’m a little stronger and as I type this, I have zero suicidal intent. 1 year on and myself and OH are stronger, and my love for little man is beyond anything; I’d ever imagined possible. That boy is my greatest achievement, and oh my word, I’m so proud off him.
Let’s hope the next 12 months are kinder to us all.
We deserve happiness.
This morning I got the call; “We were impressed, we’d like to offer you the job” I couldn’t believe it! How on earth have I just managed to get a senior lecturer position!!! Will I cope??? F$%k it, I must at least try.
OH started his new job today. His fortunes weren’t so good. He hates it. Not just new starter nerves, but a genuine, depression inducing, cannot do this a minute longer hatred. I felt so sorry for him this evening. In truth I could see it coming. He showed no enthusiasm during his training, and zero excitement at the prospect of starting. He’ll likely quit tomorrow; and he has my full support in that.
It’s been an odd day.
We’re in the throws of the terrible two’s. Little man has my temper, coupled with OH’s stubberness. This makes for an explosive cocktail!
We’ve been good so far on the united parenting front. When we say no, we mean no!!! Little man is certainly testing the boundaries; throwing himself on the floor, squealing and shrieking like something possessed and ultimately testing my patience to it’s limits.
We’ve been good though, no raised voices or shouting. We just calmly stand our grand, which is a huge departure from how I was raised. A quick slap was the tool of choice during my upbringing. Not excessively by any means but used nonetheless.
Psychology has helped myself and OH to map out our own path on the family front, not conforming to our own parents ideals. Its not as easy as it sounds.
How many people do you know, that would set up an interviews, whilst still in hospital? That’s exactly what I’ve done. It would be fine if I didn’t also have to prep a talk for it.
“How would you identify and quantify proteins and why is this knowledge important for medical laboratory scientists?”
I’m thinking about this, as I sit on the floor, in my favourite spot on the psych ward. It’s a bizarre experience. Tonight should be my last sleep in here, with tomorrow night being spent at home before discharge.
My interview is over Skype the day after. What in earth was I thinking!!! You need to learn to rest loopy!!!
I had done it. I had landed a premium position at a Russell group university. It was my dream job. I had worked so hard to get to that point and now……..
Now I’m probably throwing it all away. Now I can see no better options but to relinquish this positiin and head, tail between my legs for home.
I simply couldn’t cope. This morning I tied a sheet around my neck and flopped head thumping to the floor. It wasn’t tight enough, and staff found me.
I want to do it again, tighter this time… I want someone to take my angst away. I want to feel like less of a failure. I want to die.
I really don’t know how to continue living.
Today, I phoned for my blood test results. I had a full work up. The voice on the line said; “yes they’re all normal”
I don’t understand. I don’t believe her. I want to see the numbers and rhe the eeferenxe ranges. I don’t know how this is possible. I was sure they’d indicate some physcal deficiency. I’d hoped for it. Something we could “treat” to make me feel better.
Most people would be thrilled to get the all clear. I’m devastated.
I don’t understand…….
Is it all in my head?