SAW MY DRUG COUNSELLOR TODAY. Walking there through gormless inner-city streets I worked self up into a lather about how remiss my previous workers, doctors, psychiatrists had been in failing to give any appropriate treatment about a year ago when I was well and truly on the verge of cracking up. As I explained, I was paranoid enough not to trust people, sane enough to know that if I shot my mouth off in front of a doctor I might well be diagnosed mad. And so my life shot down the toilet (I seemed to spend several months sitting on the floor surrounded by heaps of cockroach-crawling rubbish, simply staring into space). Now I am trying to unravel the consequences of this by putting my debts in order etc, but it is not easy. Any task I do that I am not used to doing I must break down into component parts; otherwise it seems insurmountable. I was advised. Or more to the point, TOLD, to get an appointment with my GP (family doctor) to go back on the one antidepressant that seemed to work without making me OTT irritable/hyper: mirtazepine/Zispin/Remeron. It gives wonderful dreams. A rather pleasing side effect. (Do click my mirtazapine links if you're interested in finding out more ...)
Well I'm off to go and stare into space ... (!!)
George is getting old. - Having quietened my concern yesterday George fell on the steps today and couldn't get up so we've had a trip to the vet. Basically he's getting old. Dodgy ...
10 hours ago