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Posts Tagged ‘negative thoughts

Reboxetine…

with 27 comments

I’ve been taking Reboxetine for a couple of months now. I started on a stupidly low dose and even with that I started to struggle with side effects. It has been increased a couple of times now and the side effects are a nightmare… BUT I THINK IT IS WORKING!

Reboxetine is meant to be taken in divided doses; 4mg morning, 4 mg at night, but I haven’t even got that far yet because of the side effects. One of the biggest problems is insomnia. I started on 2mg in the morning which wasn’t so bad, but then they needed to add the night time dose and that pretty much stopped me sleeping at all. I couldn’t even tolerate taking 2mg at night without it keeping me awake. So they decided to move the full 4mg dose to the morning, which was a little better. I still wasn’t sleeping very well (around 4 hours a night), but it didn’t seem to make things much worse than normal.

The dose was increased though about 3 weeks ago and we now have a problem. I can’t really take a larger dose all at once because Reboxetine has a fairly short half life and wears off pretty quickly. It was suggested I took 4mg in the morning and 2mg at lunchtime. The problem with the lunchtime dose is I often forget. If I’m out and about I don’t normally remember to take it with me or even if I’m home I keep telling myself I’ll go take it and never do. If I end up taking it mid-afternoon or evening I have a nightmare trying to get to sleep. If I take it late at night I usually get to sleep initially, but wake up an hour or two later and spend the rest of the night awake. Even if I take it at the right time I still have a problem sleeping. The only time I seem to be able to sleep properly is around 7am-10am in the morning when the meds have worn off, when ideally I should be getting up. I am struggling with the lack of sleep and I’m pretty sure it isn’t helping ease my headaches.

Aside from the insomnia there is a plethora of other side effects to contend with:

Sweats are a big problem and at times I get so hot I seem to start shaking or I feel faint and dizzy. This happens even when it is really cold outside and I’m wearing short sleeves. I must look ridiculous going around in short sleeves when everyone else is wrapped up in coats and scarves. I end up carrying my coat around everywhere because I can’t bear to wear it, but that means I get wet!

The Reboxetine has killed my appetite too. At the moment it is not unusual for me to eat nothing all day, for my bloke to cook me dinner and for me to eat half of it and then give up. The only thing I seem to want to eat is sugar. Everything else makes me feel sick, especially chicken for some reason. I don’t know if that has something to do with the fact I spent a weekend throwing up a couple weeks ago and one of the things I’d eaten was a chicken slice, but it’s a little annoying. I’m fed up of the nausea. It does have an upside though. I have lost a bit of weight over the past couple of weeks, although I’m sure if I wasn’t just eating sweet things then I probably would have lost more. I may be eating less than normal, but I think I probably eat healthier than this usually.

I am still getting the occasional attack of upper abdomen/chest pain too. It was assumed this was down to acid reflux and it does seem to have eased off over the past couple of weeks, so maybe the omeprazole has helped on that front. I just hope it doesn’t get worse now that I’ve completed the course of meds.

Add the common medication annoyances of constipation and dry mouth to the list and you have a pretty comprehensive list of side effects. The stuff is making me feel pretty rubbish, on the physical side at least.

The side effects do seem to ease off a little when my body has had a chance to get used to the dose, but it is really not fun in the meantime. Dr M is pretty concerned about the side effects too. She has been reluctant to increase the dose each time I’ve seen her, although she knows she needs to. I’m not even on the recommended dose yet (4mg b.d.) and she thinks I will probably need a high dose eventually, so that means I’ve got a few more of these increases to tolerate. I hope that by persevering the worst will pass, but I know that every time the dose is increased again, all the nasty side effects will be back worse than ever. I don’t know if I can handle it getting any worse. I almost wonder if she should just stick the dose up to full strength and see what happens. I think I’d rather feel absolutely dreadful for a couple of weeks, rather than pretty rubbish for a couple of months. I just don’t know if I’d tolerate it or not.

Dr M even seems to be considering taking me off the Reboxetine because of the side effects, but I am loathe to give up on it yet. I can feel it improving my mood and that is a big thing for me. It is the only antidepressant to have done that without sending me completely doolally. I have tried so many different antidepressants and other medications that I had kinda given up on the idea that I’d ever find something to lift my mood. This has changed that. I now have some hope that medication may eventually help me.

I hate though that I find something that may actually help my mind and my sodding body won’t tolerate it. If I find something my body can tolerate, it does nothing for my mind. Why can’t I have both? There must be some meds out there that will work and not make me feel ill?

So, yes. The side effects may be doom and gloom, but I do think it is working. My concentration is improving and I feel able to do more. I don’t actually mind getting up in the morning now. I may be knackered from the lack of sleep, but at least when I wake up I am not filled with this absolute dread of facing another day. It may sound clichéd, but I feel a little lighter. I don’t feel like I am being crushed by this overwhelming sadness any more. Things are by no means fixed, but they are definitely better than they were.

The intrusive thoughts are less and have changed too. I sadly can’t report that the suicidal thoughts are completely gone, but they are different and less often. Before, I had reached a point where I was absolutely certain that death was the only sensible option. It was all that I could think about and it didn’t matter what I was doing or how busy I was, it would be in my mind and it was the ultimate goal. I wanted to die and I spent all day thinking about how I was going to do it as quickly and painlessly as possible.

I am not certain any more though. I still find life and the future pretty hard to comprehend, but I don’t see suicide as inevitable now. I am still struggling to resist the urge to just give up on everything, but I haven’t already given up. The thoughts are mainly impulsive ones now, rather than the pervasive ones that were there before. Generally, the thoughts are kept at bay when I am busy and they only really hit me when I am anxious or upset, or at night when I am struggling to sleep and have time to think. I am keeping myself busy to push the thoughts back, but I can’t do that forever.

When I do stop to think, I am scared. I am scared that it won’t take much to push me back down the slope. What if I have to stop taking the Reboxetine because of the side effects? Will I get worse again? What if I don’t keep getting better? Will I give up again in frustration? What if I just give in to the impulsive thoughts that linger? What if, what if, what if?

I am scared by the thought of recovery. I am frightened by the future. I have spent so long assuming there is no future, it is impossible to know what to do with one. I don’t know how to live my life if I actually get it back. Dr M and New Social Worker ask me what I want to happen in a month, 6 months, a year’s time and I have no idea. I have no real aspirations because I have given up on them all.

I wrote about wanting to go back to work, but I am not sure I can actually do it. It is too hard to comprehend. I have been off for so long I don’t know if I can remember what it is like to work. Illness, ECT and medication have all messed with my brain and I don’t even know if it functions enough for me to work anymore. I feel so stupid and slow these days.

I am worried that I am not strong enough to recover. I am scared of therapy. I worry that it will make me so much worse in the short term that I won’t be able to cope. I don’t even know what it is meant to achieve. If my mood is improving with the medication, maybe it is more down to chemicals than Dr M is willing to admit? I know there are other problems, but I don’t know how therapy is going to help. I don’t even know if or when it will ever happen. I’ve been waiting so long it is pretty hard to imagine ever coming to the top of the list!

I feel like a coward. It seems so much easier to just give into the suicidal thoughts even now. I know things are improving, but I am too scared of what lies ahead. I have got so used to the idea of suicide that it is almost comforting. It is strange. Suicide is a coping method, as much as a get out clause.

I know I just have to face it. I know I need to stop worrying and thinking about it, but I can’t help it. I guess everyone facing the idea of recovery has these thoughts. I have been trying to ignore them, but they have been niggling away at me.

I have to fight these thoughts. They fuel the negative and intrusive thoughts that linger. I am trying.

Written by intothesystem

Thursday, 1st April 2010 at 9:25 pm

Am I Being Fair…?

with 14 comments

A question that is plaguing me and my relationship at the moment.

My partner has been objecting to what I’ve written about our arguments lately. I am not sure he appreciates me writing about our relationship in such a public, but one-sided way. Maybe it is unfair to expect him to sit back without the opportunity to say his piece, but I need somewhere to work all of this out. I need to know if I am making sense. I need someone to listen.

He is of course right that I am only showing my side of the story and I am not giving him the opportunity to defend himself. Maybe I could let him write his own post, give his own argument, but I’m not sure it would be suitable for publication! ;) It is true though that much of what I have written has presented the facts and I am not trying to criticise or upset him with these posts. He did indeed call my illness a “stupid teenage fantasy” and does indeed make little snide comments about my blogging, so he cannot argue with that.

He tells me though that I do not realise how much the things I write hurt him and that I shouldn’t portray him as some big evil monster. I don’t mean to do that. He isn’t. We really do have our problems at the moment, but I don’t think he acts with any malice. I don’t think he gets any pleasure out of annoying or hurting me. He just doesn’t know how to deal with everything that is going on. I’m pretty sure he genuinely tries to understand better, but I am just not sure that it works.

One thing he said was that his sulking is not in any way aimed at me. He said that when he read about me stopping my medication he was really angry and that when he went off to sulk he wasn’t trying to manipulate me, he was just taking time out so he didn’t do or say something he may regret. That seems fair enough. There are times I have to take myself away from a situation. The problem is though I am unsure. Even if he doesn’t mean it that way, it still puts me on the back foot and makes me feel guilty. Of course he says that is my problem and that I shouldn’t think everything is about trying to hurt me. I guess it is my own fault for feeling guilty, but perhaps he should find another way of staying in control and maybe he shouldn’t give me the cold shoulder when I try and find out what is wrong.

When I said that our long conversation (argument) on Saturday night didn’t get us anywhere he was upset as well. He felt it did help and that we were getting somewhere. He argued that I am always seeing the negative in things and that we’re never going to get anywhere if I continue with that attitude. Yes, we did say things that needed to be said, but I am unsure if we actually got any closer to finding a solution. I know that he was trying though.

We had another one of those conversations on Sunday night. He said he’d been making a concious effort all day on Sunday not to make the biting comments I find so frustrating, yet I can’t say I noticed an improvement. This confuses me. Are things really not as bad as I think they are, but because of the negative nature of depressed thinking I am feeling things more acutely? Am I just making things up to taunt myself with?

We seemed to spend a great deal of time discussing the merits of twitter. I do think things have escalated on the blogging-hatred front since I started using twitter more regularly. You may remember that I wrote a blog post about my feelings on twitter about a month ago. I myself was sceptical of its merits, but I have come around because I do genuinely think it is helpful and dare I say it? I enjoy it. I enjoy being in the middle of discussion between an interesting group of people. I like the fact that twitter is taking my blog to new audiences. I like the fact it is quick and I can log my thoughts without having to dwell or develop them.

One of his arguments was that 140 characters is far too little to say anything constructive. I thought that too at first, but I am amazed at what you can actually convey through a few short messages. Thoughts after all aren’t logically constructed into sentences and paragraphs when you have them, so sharing a few snippets can still get across the same message.

His other was that he doesn’t understand why I want to broadcast little snippets of info to a bunch of strangers. He doesn’t really understand why I want an audience on my blog. I know I didn’t really start writing this for an audience. I started as I hoped it would be therapeutic, but I have found it helpful, interesting and encouraging to know there are people out there that care. I have met people who I do genuinely count as friends and I have received a great deal of useful advice and support. I wouldn’t get all that from a paper journal hidden under my bed.

As for twitter and an audience. I only really intended it to be aimed at my blogging audience. Little extra snippets of information for those that already read. Little updates for when I don’t have the words for more. It has developed into a new outlet though and also a new source of readers to this blog.

We also talked about me and my illness. His main argument was that I do not try hard enough to get better. This is an argument I hate, because it implies such a lack of understanding about mental illness, that I thought I could have changed by now. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, it isn’t going to take this illness away. I may be able to ease some of the symptoms, but that will be as far as it goes. Yes, I know that lifestyle changes can be useful and I even know that eating better and exercise can help, but it is not a panacea. The eat better, exercise more, be a better person stuff just doesn’t wash.

He is worried that I am pinning all my hopes of recovery on finding a wonder drug and/or therapy and that I am not going to do anything myself to get better. I am hoping that one day I will find a cocktail of medication that helps. Most of the people I know that have had some recovery have been aided in that by medication. It is often pointed out at The Priory that you should take a three pronged approach to recovery: medication, therapy and lifestyle change. By pinning my hopes for recovery on therapy and medication I am not being lazy, just realistic. I would also hope that the fact I have hopes for therapy (when the NHS finally get their ass in gear) does suggest I want to do some of the work to get better myself. Therapy is far from an easy process and involves a great deal of hard work, work which I am going to have to do.

As an example of how I am being lazy and not trying hard enough, he says that I haven’t done anything to improve my sleep, except take a few pills. I have tried medication, but I’ve been through the sleep hygiene stuff too. Admittedly I’ve made less effort in recent months, but only because I have given up hope. I have spent years swinging between hypersomnia and insomnia, although in recent years I’ve been firmly in the insomnia camp. I have tried all sorts of things and nothing has succeeded in restoring “normal” sleep. What is normal is questionable anyway, because there are times when 4 hours is fine, other times when 4 hours is no where near enough and even times when 4 hours feels too much. Sometimes I can have 2 hours sleep and feel fine. Sometimes I can have 2 hours sleep and feel awful. Other times I can have 7 hours sleep and still feel exhausted. I guess it’s all linked to mood, but I guess it also means my sleep will never be great.

He suggests I need to follow more of the CBT and self-help stuff we went over at The Priory. Setting myself a routine and activity scheduling. I do need to get back into a routine, but it is understandable that things go haywire over Christmas. I know activity scheduling was something that was always encouraged at The Priory, but I never really found it helpful. I also worry that this is just another means for exerting control. He can try and make me follow a routine he approves of and if I don’t stick to it, then he can get angry and tell me I’m not trying hard enough.

His latest suggestion is that I only use the internet/blog in the evenings to try and contain the time I spend on here, but I fear this is merely so he will be around at the time I’m doing it. Of course him being around will mean I will spend even less time on here because the automatic guilt-trip will be triggered and secondly, he will be able to keep an eye on me whilst I do it. When I tried to go online this morning, forgetting this had been suggested, he got angry at me and told me I was only allowed online at night and that I should do as I’m told. I had never agreed to following his suggestion, yet he was determined to enforce it. I am not sure I’m comfortable with his assumption that I will do as I’m told

I can’t remember what else was discussed on Sunday. I don’t exactly enjoy the arguments and I have found my short term memory seems to be pretty selective. Some of the bits that provoke the strongest emotion and reaction stick, but the rest slips through my hands like sand.

I do remember that I gave up before the bloke was ready to stop. I couldn’t take any more of the argument and at 2am or whatever it was I was too tired to discuss anything properly. He was annoyed at this, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to start the discussion then anyway. It would be a lot easier to talk about such things when I’m actually functioning properly.

The thing is now I am confused and conflicted. I wonder if I’m being fair. I wonder if this is all my fault and if I am overreacting. I wonder if I am just seeing the negatives all the time. But things have got to the stage now that I am always suspicious of his motives. Is he trying to make me feel bad so that he can control me? Is he trying to guilt trip me into compliance? Is he just saying all of this to get his own way?

I wonder if anything will ever change. I really don’t know what to do.

Alison suggested on my last post we had some time apart and it is something I have thought about a lot myself, but I do not know how feasible it is. I hope that him going back to work will help. At least it will give us a few hours space. His cold is now improving, but his attempt to get to work this morning proved futile due to the snow. Both routes out of the village towards Warrington were difficult – one impassable and one almost so and he didn’t want to get stuck on the way back, so he turned around and came home. Unless it dramatically warms up overnight there’s little sign of him getting there tomorrow either. We’ve had another couple of inches since he got home this morning.

Even if he does get to work soon, a few hours apart probably isn’t going to be enough to help. Would a temporary separation be useful? It might make us realise what things we miss about each other and it might give me some space to get better. Our relationship was once long distance and it is true that absence makes the heart grow fonder. I just don’t know if he’d be happy about it and I don’t even know if I could. Things are not good at the moment and I wonder how Dr N and the CMHT will react if I am on my own. I wonder how I would cope. I worry that I would end up in hospital, perhaps not because he would get me sectioned or maybe even not because I couldn’t cope, but pretty much because there is no where else for me to go. I can’t exactly go home – my support is up here and I’d go mad after a couple of days with my parents anyway and I don’t really have any friends I could stay with. I don’t have anywhere else to go.

As has been mentioned before, I don’t think I am well enough to make any big decisions on our relationship whilst I am still in the acute throes of this illness. I am pretty sure things would be a lot easier if I was well. My illness has skewed the power relationship and I think that has escalated the worries about control. I think he wants to control me, because he wants to keep me safe. I am in a weakened position naturally, because he is my carer and ultimately if he wanted me in hospital he could make it so. Before I was his equal and I had things of my own and they gave me freedom. I had my career and my work friends, both of which I have lost through illness. I find it hard because I don’t feel I have anything of my own any more and that only adds to the feeling that I have no freedom anymore.

Admittedly we argued before I was ill, but it is true that arguments are a fact of life in relationships and things have been so much worse lately. The problem is, I can’t really remember the good times. A combination of depression and the effects of ECT means they’ve pretty much gone. I can barely remember our engagement. It makes it very easy to think that our relationship is all bad and maybe it should be over, when really things are just a little difficult at the moment and there is a lot going for us. NYE was our 7 year anniversary. That’s a long time and we must have been doing something right to get this far.

You would be forgiven for reading this post and thinking that our relationship struggles are the only thing going through my mind at the moment, but they are not. These struggles are the thing which I feel most able to write about, but on top of all this there are other struggles going on. I want to write about them, yet I am scared about doing so. The depression is pretty intense, but the agitation is back again and the only respite I have is my appreciation of snow. I love snow and it has been a welcome distraction from the worst of my thoughts. Sadly I know that as the snow melts that respite will disappear and I will be left with the misery that fills the rest of my mind. I do not relish that thought.

Trying to talk…

with 10 comments

I have struggled to write this week. I have sat and stared at the screen many times, but failed to pull anything together.

Twice this week I’ve brought up the problems that I mentioned in this post (basically thinking about splitting up with my bloke but feeling that I can’t for various reasons) with professionals and both times I found little solace or support. I tried to convey just how much distress this is causing me, but I seemed to fail. It’s frustrating when you are expected to talk to people about things, yet when you do you get little in return. I need to work this out in my head, but feel stuck. The thoughts are feeding my feeling of hopelessness and of course that only encourages the negative thoughts. It is making me worse yet it seems to be seen as a distraction and not worth talking about.

The first person to fail to help was my CMHT worker who I saw on Monday. I tried to talk to her but found it really difficult. She kept trying to use the “think positively” stick and didn’t seem to want to listen. She also tried to explain to me the effects of mental illness a million times. As if I don’t know them already! I hate being patronised. Generally the whole conversation was awkward. I hope things improve or there’s no way I’m going to be able to work with her long term.

Then on Tuesday I saw my therapist at The Priory. She also failed to grasp how much I am struggling. It was our last session so she was keen not to talk about new topics. It didn’t seem to occur to her that I’d have liked to use the session to help rather than just talk about superficial things. I guess she didn’t want to leave me stranded if we didn’t cover everything.  I don’t know how I feel about it being our last session. I don’t know how useful the sessions have been, but it was always something in my calendar each week. A constant in a world of uncertainty.

Today has been my last day of day care at The Priory. It hasn’t hit me yet but I am going to miss it. I’ve been going for therapy there since October and it has been a big part of my life. I’ve spent over 3 months living there!. I will be back a couple of times yet to see Dr G, but other than that it’s all over. I will miss the empathy and support you get there. I will miss the time out to think. I will miss the food. It is going to be a big loss and I’m not sure how I will deal with it. I know I will have to leave sometime, but I wish I was leaving through choice and because things were on the up, not because of money and NHS politics.

I think I’m going to have to give up now. I can’t write right now. My head is in pieces.

Written by intothesystem

Thursday, 16th July 2009 at 8:31 pm

Slipping Back…

with 7 comments

I realise now that a month ago, I was better than I thought I was. I thought there was no progress and I wasn’t getting any better, but now I realise it wasn’t as bad as I had thought. I was still low and the agitation was a problem, but I was coping then. The improvement on previous months was subtle, but it was there. I just didn’t really know how to see it. When you are depressed it is hard to see the positive amongst all the dark fog.

Now though, I can see. I am worse now. The juxtaposition between now and then makes it clearer. The upheaval of Christmas and New Year has done nothing for my mood. The endless charade of being okay and happy during the festivities is wearing and I’m tired. I find the blackness working its way through my mind and mood. The negative thoughts are relentless. There is a whole army of ants crawling around in there. I don’t have any ant powder. I have been existing for the sake of it for months now and I don’t know why I am still holding on. I keep trying to, but it is getting harder again. I do it for everyone else, not for myself. It is all just wearing. I am still wearing the mask.

I saw my consultant today. That was wearing in itself. I told her this. I told her that I was doing better than I realised, but now I am doing worse. I told her that I can feel myself slipping back and not having the energy to fight. She just said that this will leave me stuck in depression. She didn’t tell me how to stop myself or give me a hand to pull me back up. She just said that dips happen and I just have to keep fighting. I felt like she hadn’t listened and I found that hard. She has done nothing and said nothing today and I don’t know why I bothered to try and tell her how I feel. I am to stick on the same meds and she will review before I go away on holiday. I felt annoyed by her and maybe even let down. I don’t really know.

I am frustrated with myself that I have slipped back. I wonder if it is my fault. My fault for not realising things were improving. My fault for not making the most of that little improvement. My fault for not having faith. My fault for being this way. I doubt myself all the time and I’m punitive. I will wear myself down and beat myself up. I worry over everything. I question everything.

I think Dr G made a mistake today in the way she said that I may be trapping myself in my depression. I don’t know if she meant well or not, but it has upset me and annoyed me. It has not done anything to help me, only make me question myself more. I do not know why I have slipped back. I did not intend to slip back. It has just happened and I need a help out of it, not a knock down back into it. I hope things improve. At the moment it feels as if she is not supporting me or helping me. It almost feels as if she has lost the respect she used to hold for me. It feels unbalanced now. I am scared of her and uncomfortable about seeing her.

I don’t know what is next. I am always looking for answers. I don’t have any and don’t know where I can find them. I want to know when I will get better. I want to know when things will pick up. I want to know that they will pick up. I am looking for questions too. It is hard to find answers when you don’t have the questions. I don’t know what I should be asking of myself. I don’t know what I should be asking of my doctors. I don’t know anything any more. I find it frustrating.

Dr G wants to review before my holiday this month. Then she said we need to think about the future and planning beyond that. I am scared of the future. I am not sure I want a future. I am just trying not to think about it at the moment.

Written by intothesystem

Tuesday, 6th January 2009 at 6:08 pm

Hope or Hopeless?

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Reading back over my last post, I’m struck by the hopefulness of it. I didn’t think I felt especially hopeful when I was writing it, but that is the sense I feel looking back. At the time, I thought I was going through the motions, self-censoring my words to make it seem like I was hopeful. I had it in my mind that I would not return from London. I had it in my mind that I had to present that I was okay and going to be safe down there for my partner’s sake, but deep down knew I’d be battling against the safety measures that I had put in place.

As you can see, I have returned from London, so maybe my hopefulness was genuine? Maybe I realised that I would overcome my suicidal wishes and survive the weekend? I don’t know. My hope is as fleeting as my moods.

It was touch and go at times. On Sunday night, I genuinely thought I would not return. I had a clear plan in mind and was preparing myself for it. I was on the edge. I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to die. I got scared by my mind and the clarity of it and forced myself to take double sleepers to knock myself out. I think they worked. By morning, I woke feeling less certain of my plan and keen to get home. I felt mildly optimistic and even, dare I say it, happy?

How can one’s perspective on things change so quickly? I don’t know if I am coming or going. I don’t know if I am full of hope or hopeless.

My weekend, overall, was good. My mood was unstable, as is the usual, but I did enjoy Saturday night. Lots of alcohol and lots of dancing and I was okay. Moments of withdrawal and sadness descended if I stopped to breathe, but I kept them at bay with a relentless performance of “coping”. I tried to live in the moment, something we are continually preached about at The Priory. It was enough to keep me going and even enough to let me smile a little and actually believe in it and mean it.

Sunday was a slow one and much harder. I didn’t have an alcohol hangover, but a mood one was definitely apparent. We didn’t do much. Stayed in the flat most of the day and went for food in the evening. There was no pressure and with that, I could manage. I had to battle against the thoughts in my head, but without any need for a performance, I could concentrate on that and concentrate on the moment. It was okay.

Last week I didn’t see past the weekend. I didn’t expect to see today. A friend of mine said to me on Friday, life is like driving in the dark. You can only see as far as your headlights allow you, but you know that if you keep going you will see a little further and if you keep going like that you can go all the way. I think that is how I’m living life at the moment. I can’t see very far. I don’t really want to see very far, but I am still getting through each little bit. I just hope that my headlamps don’t go out any time soon or the fog doesn’t get any worse. I’m still struggling and I hate it.

My mood dropped again yesterday. I was at The Priory and although Art was reasonably relaxing, Support was uncomfortable. I was agitated, unable to stay still and the conversation was irrelevant to me for most of the session. I sat and tried to listen, but all I could think about was my unrealised plans from the weekend. When it was eventually my turn to speak, I unleashed my frustration at my mood. My frustration at the speed in which it twists and turns. I did not know what else to say and neither did anyone else. Their depression is explained by divorce, family issues or work stress. Mine is explained by nothing. By faulty brain chemicals or a disordered personality? I do not know and I still don’t have any answers. I am fed up of it.

I don’t know what else to say anymore. On Sunday, I had lost all hope. On Monday, it returned. Yesterday, it was wavering. Today, I do not know.