Thursday Regular

Went to Devilles last night. Caught up with two of my besties, sang karaoke (London Calling, if you're interested), and actually laughed and smiled a bit.  And I could actually handle a bit of a crowd - while focussing on only a couple of people, if you get my meaning. 

Joburg said I seemed happier than she was expecting.  It's the thing of seeing friends, I think. 

The rest of the day was the usual mix of numb and anxious.  One of the worst episodes was whether I had addressed a parcel correctly, with the right name on it and such.  Whether it would get signed for, acceptable to Australia Post.  Silly little things like that. 

Still a mess.  But, booked a second appointment with the new shrink for the 14th.  Hmm, isn't that Bastille Day? 

A Foggy Mind

The mornings are the worst.  Whether it is because the Lexapro dosage is at its minimum, or the after effects of the insomnia, or the waking up alone day after day, year after year, or the fact that it's too early to call anyone, the mornings are the worst. 

The anxiety has ramped down a bit.  But it's been replaced with the self loathing, the self hatred, the who could ever love or even like me thinking.  Which, as awful as it sounds, is familiar and somewhat comfortable.  In the sense that I know how to handle this thinking, that I've battled that side of me many many times before. The fact that I'm at the point of accepting meds and therapy usually means I'm on an upward swing.  Even if I can't for the life of me feel it at the moment. 

At work, I'm almost a robot at the moment. Which works for me. 

After work, I have found myself stopping in the middle of the footpath, unsure, uncertain of what on earth I am going to do next.  Looking around me, from one direction to the next, almost hoping for some kind of inspiration, some reason, especially to avoid just curling up on the couch or bed at home, sleeping/wasting my life away.  Yes, I'm one of those people lol.  Indecisiveness, always a bad sign with me. 

And I feel that blaming the depression or the medication for me being this way is a cop out.  I'm just as much me as when I'm happy.  Or something. 

And other friends have real problems.  And I'm in self loathing, self pity mode.  I suck. 

Cannot Even Think of Subject Title

Numb or anxious. Those are the two settings in me at the moment. There is no in between, there is very little emotion in me besides these two.  One kinda sorta positive though, when I am at work it settles me into the routine of the actual data processing. 

But away from work I don't feel I have any purpose or goals or anything.  Dammit, this blog was not meant to be another descent into anxiety and depression, but you can never predict how these things are going to evolve, and after the break of the last few weeks, I do want to get into this daily again.  Even if the subjects are somewhat painful. 

I will get better.  I always do.  But hurting at this level of whatever this is, is always ultra awful. 

Day Zero

I was almost in tears this morning, about the thought of going to work.  For no particular reason, either. 

The last couple of weeks have hit me like a brick.  Have realised how fucking depressed I am, and have been proactive with getting medication and referral to new shrink.  Ah, sweet, sweet Lexapro lol.  Which in itself has hit me for six.  On the therapy side, got the referral last Monday, and got in to see new shrink on Friday, which is hella fast in my experience of these things.  And she seems nice enough, nothing jarred during the session. 

And I'm kinda sorta isolating myself from my friends, even the close ones.  Haven't seen Roma for three weeks, and she indicated quickly by text what she's going through at the moment, so in the big scheme of things, my anxiety isn't as important as her stuff. 

Funnily enough, it's been Casablanca who has been the most supportive, the most helpful, the most understanding about it all.  While she is going through a massive amount of her own stuff. 

I'm just second guessing myself a lot recently. Wondering whether I've made the right decisions in various aspects of my life. Wondering whether the things set in stone are just examples of my stubbornness. 

It's all in flux.  Can someone please just tell me that it's going to be all right, before I get overwhelmed and do something stupid? 

A Few Positives

Jacksonville said to remember that I'm loved, not to stress, and that everything will come out in the wash.

Lucerne said that next time I fall apart, to give her a call and she will slap some sense into me.  Which was lovely to hear, as I hadn't thought to put her in that category as yet.

And Havana, one of the friends I have made most recently, said that the first impression that I give is funny, creative, understanding, loyal, brave and have an amazing, jealousy inspiring sense of style.

I've still got it.  Even when I'm all about the self doubts recently.

Distractions

Some of the things I have thought about writing this week -

- misogyny, rape culture, male entitlement and yes all women;

- cross dressing, self esteem, shame and hurt;

- the struggle that is First World Problems, when Iraq and Ukraine are falling apart, a billion people don't have fresh water, and various of my friends have much bigger issues than me;

- visiting an ex, and feeling next to nothing emotion wise about it all, and how awful that lack of feeling was;

- food and restaurant blogging.

What I have done instead -

- inserted needles in my back, or rather, a friend put them in for me - acupuncture lol;

- watched a zillion football World Cup games;

- fretted about friendships;

- avoided writing stuff.

A Remembered Nightmare

Ugh. The first one that I can remember in almost a month.  Was watching television, in my dream, and it was the news.  Some revolution out of control in Egypt or Syria or Pakistan, one of the currently unstable countries, and they were showing executions.  Not that I have ever gone looking for that sort of stuff on the interwebz, but the imagined in my dreams was quite upsetting, and enough to jolt me awake.  Ugh. 

Hmm. And I missed a word last night about the blow back from realising Casablanca is truly over. In amongst all the hurt and pain and anger and bile, there is also a deep sense of betrayal.  As much as she will deny it now, I came to Perth with an idea of how things might go.  Now, whether I misinterpreted or not, doesn't deny the fact that she wanted me here. I believe in a more than just friends capacity. 

Execution dreams indicate a major life change or needing to cut someone from your life, apparently. It's on the interwebz, it must be true.  Lol. 

Writing at 4 in the morning.  Always a bad sign...