Tuesday, March 31, 2020

Mental Health Update

I have decided that since I posted aN awful lot when I was in the midst of my nervous breakdown earlier in the year that I’d provide an update.

The short version is that I’m doing a hell of a lot better. This is not accidental, I’ve been working very hard to get to this point. I’ve taken the happy pills, I’ve seen the psychologist, I’ve done the self care, and I’ve been a lot kinder to myself than I probably ever have been before.

Am I cured? Nope. Not by a long shot. And I may never be. I’m OK with that though, it’s a work in progress, and I’ll keep at it.

(Especially since all theatre has stopped for the foreseeable future and that was my main form of self care. Oh, and I can’t get my nails done anymore, which was my back-up self care, but they are both VERY first world problems and I’ll manage without them)

Shout out to my main man Terry because I’m not exaggerating when I say that without his love and support I would absolutely not have managed to get even this far.

Also, thanks to everyone who messaged me to check in, and to share their own MH stories with me. I’ve got good people in my world, and I hope you all stay there.

Lastly, if you think you might need help with this sort of stuff, please talk to someone, anyone. Your GP is a great place to start, but my inbox is always open, the good people of Lifeline (13 11 14) are always there.

(This became way wordier than I intended. Peace out)

Friday, January 10, 2020

That’s not tears, THIS is tears!

Just when you think you’re doing ok, it turns out you’re absolutely not. I held things together pretty well over the crucial Christmas/ New Year period. (Aside from a horrendous trip to the Sydney Aquarium. Oh my lord what a clusterfuck that was!)

But this week. This week has been... tough. I haven’t been able to go to work, too many tears falling out of my face to be providing any sort of customer service, let alone the standard I normally provide. I thought I was crying a lot in December when I last blogged, that had nothing on this week.

Depression with a side of PTSD can go and get fucked.

I think I’m coming out the other side now, but earlier in the week I was seriously thinking about checking myself into some kind of facility. It was horrendous. (Thanks to my peeps who listened without judgement, you know who you are. Mwah)

I went to the doctor (work requires a piece of paper to say I’m too fucked to be there) she prescribed rest and sleeping tablets and melatonin. The sleeping tablets worked a treat, I took melatonin for the first time tonight and it’s 130am and I’m still awake so I’m reserving judgement on those for the time being. She also made me promise to have a shower and leave the house at least once a day (I am a model patient. I even went swimming. And by swimming I mean ‘I floated around in the pool for an hour’. The good thing about that is that no one could tell if it was pool water or tears. Hint: it was tears.)

Self care? Well, I read an entire book. And I’m hallway through another one. I haven’t read two books in a row in years, so this is a big deal. My iPad tells me I’m a good girl when I reach my daily reading goal. I must have set that up at some point but I have zero recollection of doing so.

So, Thursday is done and I can count on one hand the amount of times I cried today - this is a big deal. Hopefully even less tomorrow. And hopefully some sleep soon.

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