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.
