Tomorrow I see my psych for the first time in three weeks. Last time I saw her I was hopeful that I was winning the battle with anxiety but was still unable to go inside the building so we paced round the car park.
I have very deliberately not blogged about how I have been, because I was keen to keep the focus elsewhere in an attempt to avoid any wobbles. So it’s time to recap.
My head is very noisy, I am increasingly forgetful which suggests I am switching more than normal, my food intake is bland and limited, and there are still pockets of anxiety which I need to tackle. I am coming to the end of my six week detox from the diazepam, but am determined to save it for what it is prescribed for. I have had one major wobble but was able to keep a lid on the crazy until I could speak to my CPN on Monday.
How do I feel about getting back into the routine of therapy? I don’t know. I don’t feel anything really, which is unusual. I used an analogy the other night over on Twitter that sometimes a feeling sneaks up on me and hangs heavy and too big on my shoulders, like trying on my grandmother’s fur coat as a child. And I’m still sensing whatever that was, lurking in the background. But at the moment I feel…nothing.
Tomorrow’s appointment is unusual – we normally meet on Thursdays, and at a much earlier time. I have a lot of things I need to say but I’m not sure I have the words or the voice to do so. It is a case of turning up and seeing what happens. Not my usual style.
Later today I see my CPN, and there is a lot I need to say to her too. I’m also hoping we can walk across to the hospital in preparation for therapy, as I haven’t been there since my last appointment. That depends on the weather – I don’t choose to walk in the rain as a rule – and whether my online grocery order has been delivered.
I appear to have waffled a lot and said very little. See, I don’t have the words.