listening to: Jack Off Jill - Underjoyed
choice lyrics: "Drown your fears in alcohol / everybody spills and falls / choke on every dream you ever had"
I would have posted yesterday but by the time I got home I felt 'jangled' and 'jumbled up'. An analogy I used described it (not very well) as having a completed jigsaw puzzle in a box, that's then shaken up so the pieces are in total disarray.
Long story short, my GP can't change my medication until the Community Mental Health Team provide their feedback on the meeting/assessment I had with a social worker yesterday.
Afterwards I felt emotionally raped (insensitive way of describing it, I know) but it was like I'd been through the wringer and I lost the ability to express myself adequately. Having gone on my own to the centre, as soon as I got back to my parents I had to head upstairs to my bedroom (despite having a flat of my own, my bedroom has always been there for me at home) and just lie down.
The Community Mental Health Team aren't there to be your friend, or to be overly nice, so the social worker I saw wasn't one for expressing sympathy. I was completely open and honest with her, but felt I was being challenged with some of what I said. That other people have been through the same, or worse, than I have, and yet they're not feeling how I am or used alcohol to self-medicate.
She wanted me to be back to work today - which, I'm sorry, was just out of the question. She said that being back at work would give structure to my days (as I've not actually been back to the office since before New Year).
Eurgh, can't quite talk about it anymore. I have to go back and see her on Friday to get my 'feedback' and see what pills are going to get thrown at me this time. Perhaps along with how bad I can be made to feel on THIS visit.
2 comments:
When you go back, shit on the desk. Job done (pun wholly intended)
Yeah... or not? Unless I somehow grab hold of Sharon Osbourne and bring her along with me to do the honours.
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