This week has been all about the depression.
And the anxiety.
Because apparently, I don’t get to have one without lashings of the other. Like sandwiches and ginger beer in an Enid Blyton Famous Five novel, they just go together. Only without the fun of a picnic.
So. I really haven’t done much this week, of anything. No uni work. No housework. I’ve barely moved. I managed to get to my appointment with the dentist – the tooth I was worried might have been cracked turned out to be ok, it’s just that the medication I had been taking (but am now off) for the mania caused the gum to recede a bit, so the tooth has become extra sensitive. Add in some sinus pain with the couple of storms we’ve had, and that explains why I thought something had gone very wrong. She did an x-ray (another one!) to check there wasn’t an abscess lurking, treated the tooth with some concentrated fluoride (which tasted oddly of tropical fruit – maybe passionfruit and rockmelon?) and sent me on my way. It was worth the $60 out-of- pocket for the reassurance.
I also saw my lovely mental health nurse. I’ve been having trouble eating, and this was making me anxious. Turns out that this is normal for people who are depressed – who knew? This is all uncharted territory for me, this depression after mania – it’s been such a long time since I’ve had a manic event to cope with. I’ve had to really be kind to myself about food, and not worry when I can’t eat very much, but still make myself eat SOMETHING – even if I can’t manage to eat an entire serving of rice porridge and have to waste some.
Mr Beloved has also been dealing with depression. The lovely mental health nurse reassured me that this, too, is normal: when two people who are prone to depression live together they often get depressed at the same time. Even the Very Helpful Psychiatrist said that she gets extra busy around the equinox.
But we’re getting better, I think. Slowly. Mostly by being very kind to ourselves and not expecting too much. There’s no point beating yourself up when you simply can’t manage to do much. The floor will still be there to be vacuumed tomorrow, after all.
Oh, and I had to see my GP yesterday to get a letter excusing me from jury duty – I got called up again – the fourth time in the last 12 months or so. If I was only so lucky in the lotto I’d bother buying tickets!
I’m hoping that this week I’ll be well enough to do some uni work and some housework. And there’s the Helpful Psychologist to see. And Connie goes to the groomer, which is a good thing – she’ll be very glad to lose her long winter coat.
The Carnival of Flowers is on so I might even take a wander down to one of the parks for some photos later in the week if I’m feeling better. Tonight, though, they’ll have fireworks which scare Connie. Ah well, it won’t last for long.
And I’ll watch Dr Who. And tomorrow night we’ll watch the next episode of ‘Call the Midwife’ – isn’t that a brilliant show?