It’s been a few weeks now… things are starting to settle.
I’m having up days and down days; the ups come in large chunks, but are interspersed with severe down days. Today may be one of them judging by the fact that it’s gone noon and I’m still in bed doing everything possible to avoid having to get out of it. Completely lacking in motivation.
The citalopram has brought with it chronic jaw clenching. I keep catching myself doing it, usually after a prolonged period of doing it, and generally because a headache has started to develop as a result which starts to bring my mood down and into frustration and irritation.
To work colleagues I must be starting to appear bipolar as I flit from bouncing off the walls to explosive ranting to sullen silence. If any happen to be reading, my apologies… especially to the senior manager who caught the sharp end of it yesterday from the second he walked in the door. Realised I’d done it shortly afterwards and withdrew myself to a comfortable tree outside for an extended break to gather myself.
On the counselling front, as work has volunteered to fund a private counsellor I’ve been discharged from the local NHS counselling group – my first appointment with the work-provided one is on Monday. Already I can feel the anxiety building as it approaches – having to do a lot of controlled breathing to keep it at bay.
So, on to the psychosomatic reference; I’m still abscess free! My digestive issues / stomach problems (GERDS) and… er… ablutions all seem relatively normal now after YEARS of pain and grief. Were these all brought on by depression? Have anti-depressants magically cured my vast array of hypochondriacisms? Or are these just coincidences…?
The clock ticks on, the heartbeat slows and the clouds pass by whilst I lay here staring blankly at the walls. A tear is set loose… not a clue why. Just the one, working it’s way down.
Today, I feel hollow.