Fish and chip disaster leads to smiles all round.
Oh let the Jameson sink in
I drink to that, yeah yeah
Don't let the bastards get ya down
Rihanna. Cheers (Drink to That)
Today’s blog is a two for the price of one. Yesterday started off unremarkable, feeling a bit low and empty. I’d made the mistake of logging into LinkedIn for the first time since January and found no messages. I wrote about how quickly you feel invisible. Published it and really didn’t have much else planned.
Motorsport, Music and Me
Then my phone pinged, and again, and again. Curious, checked what was the cause, I get some notifications, but not the number that were now pinging away. The cause? This https://twitter.com/pauloneill29/status/1311633990118498305?s=21 Thank you Paul O’Neill. I genuinely didn’t think my music memory would get used. Not only did hearing the tune again spark so many happy memories, but it seemed to chime with a lot of folk, and I got some really lovely messages that properly lifted my mood. I ended up doing a lot of gardening and lopped some more of the fruit trees.
The messages continued throughout the evening. It was truly lovely and it was also something of a relief that I was in the zone to read them and respond.
Woke this morning shattered. Recovering from depression and suicidal thoughts isn’t going to be the smoothest journey. I know this, but the days I wake with no energy still disappoint. I think part of it was probably my brain not wanting me to have had such an enjoyable day and so a day of duvet and nothing beckoned.
I wasn’t going to blog today. Didn’t really have anything to say more than I had yesterday. Each day I don’t work, the more invisible I feel. I said all I needed to say yesterday.
Fish and chip disaster leads to smiles all round
Our tea time Friday routine was disrupted as our regular chip shop was shut! Detour, found one that was open and as we drove back into the village, we both suddenly realised we’d forgotten to collect my medication from the surgery!! Sharp left into the car park, 6:20pm, phew, they were still open and yes my antidepressants were there.
Whilst my wife was collecting my meds, my GP strolled to his car next to me. Whilst we’d be in contact regularly since that first time I walked into his consulting room in January this year and asked for his help, this, due to Covid, was the first time we’d seen each other or spoken since February, when I first began to decide this planet would be better off without me being on it.
We had a really positive chat, probably only three minutes at most, but we both had huge smiles at the end of it. He for seeing and hearing about my progress first hand rather than via letters from my Consultant. Me from being able to say, in person, I was beginning to feel so much better than exactly one month ago.
The significance of one Friday in September will probably always stay with me. I’ve written in detail about it in an earlier blog. Even today could still have looked very different had the Consultant Psychiatrist pursued her belief I needed admitting to hospital. So relieved we challenged that and stuck our heels in for what we’d been asking for, for months.
Asking for help isn’t scary. Just do it.
So cheers to the freakin’ weekend, to those who messaged me this week and to those who are still out there trying to get the help or to recognise the need to reach out for help. Asking for help and saying you need it is not as scary as you might think.
Love n hugs
Blot x
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