Wednesday. Waiting.

One step at a time.

Minute by minute.

You’ve got through it before; you can get through it again.

Focus on the good things.

Trust in the Lord.

Seems my brain isn’t responding all that well to positive affirmations at the moment. All these things I know are true, and yet they aren’t doing anything to stop the slide.

I’ve just been talking to the CMHT about when/if I’m ever going to be seen next. The answer? Who knows? I am on a waiting list; they’re waiting to allocate me to a therapist; they can’t say how long it will be; sorry it’s not better news. I’m not surprised, as I know mental health services are hideously underresourced, but that phone call has left me feeling completely flat. I am trying SO HARD to be positive and proactive and turn things around but I can’t do it on my own.

I hate this wits’ end feeling.

I’ve been summoned to see the GP on Monday; the sort of thing that happens when you go along for a smear test and ask the nurse to dress your wounds while you’re there. Maybe he can exert some influence and get things moved along a bit. I don’t know. It feels like I’m walking a tightrope: on the one hand, I want to play down how I feel because I’m scared of what will happen if I’m honest. On the other, I just want to tell him how scared and lost and out of control I feel, I want him to DO something that actually makes a difference. More meds, different meds, different referral, I don’t know.

In the mean time, I’m taking it minute by minute but it’s like wading through treacle. I am so tired. I’m finding it harder by the day to be normal, to speak to people normally, keep functioning. I am throwing myself headlong into work and housework in an attempt to keep busy, not dwell, but I don’t know how much more I can do.