I'm sitting here with my morning coffee watching the blue tits go back and forth to the nest box which AJ put up for me a little while ago. Just beyond that there's a willow tree covered in little soft, pussy paws, some of which have flowered a bright yellow. It's lovely here and, just now, we are immersed in bird song nearly all day. We have woods to the back of us. In the mornings and evenings we are treated to a fluting songthrush, which is rare in this country now. I love just to stand in our courtyard and listen.
I'm still bumping along the bottom. I have little flowerings of energy and mood and then I sink back down into it again. I have an appointment today to see the GP's practice counsellor. For those of you unfamiliar with the workings of the NHS, primary care counselling is offered by most GPs in the UK. It's usually a six week course. I asked to go on the list before Christmas before I got critical. My aim then was to discuss what long-term support might be available for me. Since then I've jumped the queue after going into crisis and am on a list with the Community Mental Health team. The six week course will now be a chewing gum and string job to keep me going until I get to see the CMH psychologist.
I have mixed feelings. It is great to get the support but engaging with the process (yet again) is making me feel weary. I'll make a relationship with the first counsellor, only to have to 'end' and start again with another. Counselling really works for me. It works better than drugs or keeping busy. It keeps me alive. I have no doubt I would be dead by now if it weren't for the counselling support I have received over the years. It is a two way process though and hard work.
I'm not liking the higher dose of SSRI antidepressant. It's making me a little agitated and anxious and reduced my libido to practically zilch. Why they think this is an acceptable 'side effect' I don't know. It's also slowed my weight loss plan. I was at Slimming World last night and have maintained exactly the same weight for four weeks. Flapjacks notwithstanding I usually lose a little each month. I'm hoping, with the extra support I'll be able to reduce the SSRI to a more liveable level.
So. Why am I depressed? Why is this such a humungous crisis? Well, after beating my demons and learning to thrive, not just survive, I get CFS. I was dealing with that. Then I get the chance to mend the broken relationship, the one that got away. He comes back into my life and I'm as just as useful as a chocolate teapot. I know he doesn't see it that way, but that's how I feel.