Anxiety, Acne, and Roaccutane! – Week 5

I know I said I would update after day 30, but, once I’d had my check up appointment with my dermatologist, they decided to up my dose from 20mg to 30mg. With this being done, I thought it best to hang off and see if there were any changes in the side effects, before I posted again.

Around week 3 I started to have more spots surface. I have some cystic ones around my jaw, that are quite small, not as sore as normal, but still a hard, red lump under the skin. I have then gotten quite a few whiteheads around my chin/lips & cheek bones. Having these surface was a little annoying, especially with how quickly my other spots had started to dry up within week 1/2. I had read online that you can get an initial break out, like your skin is fighting back, so I just attribute it to that.

When I entered my dermatologists office, the first thing he said was how great he thought my skin looked. Despite me having new spots, my skin is not nearly as red and aggravated. My complexion is a nice natural skin tone, just with some spots and hyperpigmentation, so this is really positive. I also have a lot of really dry patches all over my face and my body. I do have exceptionally dry skin, and I’m prone to patches of eczema (especially on my hands). My eczema can flare up with a change in products, hormones, stress etc, so it was no surprise it would be aggravated with Roaccutane, I was prepared for this.

I have been given some medicated gentle skin wash, as well as moisturiser & a steroid cream for my eczema. I find that this is really helping. I am also using Aveeno on my face, and this is an absolute godsend. This cream is just amazing, and it really calms my skin. It is a little bit pricey in comparison to other creams, but I highly recommend it. It’s suitable to use all over your body, it’s non-greasy, absorbs quickly, provides a barrier for your skin, and it really helps sooth my eczema.

When my dermatologist suggested I got up to 30mg, I had absolutely no concerns. Not even a single negative thought. I figure that if anything sinister was going to happen, it would have by now. I have been on the 30mg for just over a week, and the only thing I would say is my lips look awful. They are permanently dry, splitting and cracking. I lather lip balm on them, ones I’ve made myself  (beeswax, shea butter, cocoa butter & orange essence), so I know they’re natural and nourishing, so I would hate to think how they would look if I wasn’t. I’m making a point of drinking as much water as I can, so as to keep myself hydrated, in the hopes this too will help my skin from being too dry.

The pores on my nose were starting to look really bad. Almost like they were opening up further? I made the mistake of exfoliating (against the advice of my dermatologist and every single site/forum for roaccutane) and I pretty much took the entire top layer of skin off my nose. This looked terrible. Although, my pores are actually looking better, but I still do not recommend  you do this at all. Thankfully, putting aveeno on my nose has helped it heal quickly, and it reduced the redness within 2 days.

With regards to my anxiety/depression, this has definitely not made it any worse. This was one of the biggest concerns for me (right up there with dying), and I’m happy to say, it’s not impacted my moods whatsoever. I’m just as moody/sad/anxious as I was before I started. All in all I’m very happy with the progress I’m making, despite my breakout. I understand that it will take time, and in the end I could potentially be spot free, making this 100% worth it.

The only thing I’m really not too happy about, is the fact I cannot have a glass of wine on a Friday night. I’m missing my Wineday 🙁 My Dermatologist has said, that with going to 30mg I could be off Roaccutane in 5 months, but, in 2 months if all is still going well, we will increase me to 40mg, so I may even get off these sooner. I could very well be sitting with a glass of wine in hand before the end of the summer months, all whilst being spot free. Now that is definitely a positive.

If you are reading this because you’re considering Roaccutane, I do hope that it’s helped. I will be sure and update again in the coming weeks. No news is good news in this instance, so if I don’t update again before my next appointment, all is going well.

What the actual f*ck is wrong with me?

Yesterday should have been a good day. One where I was happy, content, and proud of my efforts. Yet I managed to make myself feel the complete opposite.

Studying for an exam is always a bit meh. Finding time and peace to study is probably the hardest bit for me. Then there is the fact I’m a very visual and hands on kind of person. I honestly cannot just sit and read literature to take stuff in. I will read a paragraph and get to the end thinking “what the fuck did I even just read?”, then have to read it again and again. If I cannot envision something in my minds eye, I struggle to appreciate the concept, does that make sense?

Well, given all of this, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to not read the official books, and just watch training videos. I watched two sets of training videos over 8 weeks. I got to the day before my exam before I went back over the exam topics. I took each heading, googled it, and read the relating Cisco article/wiki page. It was at this point I realised that I didn’t know a lot of what I needed to know. There were nitty gritty bits I’d not even heard of, solutions that weren’t even touched on. Queue panic! I was awake until 11:30, trying to take in the information on these sites. It just wasn’t going in, mainly because I was reading tired, and in a bit of a panicked state.

I have then woken up at 3:30am, and convinced myself I have to study again. At first I tried some you tube videos, this was in vane. I then read back over my notes, just in case I had covered these things and just wasn’t remembering. Nope. No notes on them. I started to google things again, and go over the topics. Still feeling like I wasn’t taking anything in.

When I got to the test centre, I was so tired, but at the same time completely wired with nerves. I was shaking so bad that I couldn’t even do my signature. As the test started, I had convinced myself I was going to fail. I hadn’t studied properly, I didn’t know everything I needed to know etc. First question came up on the screen and it was such an easy one. One I could have answered just from doing my day to day job. The rest of the questions felt much the same. None of them appeared to be on these topics I tried to panic study. I then got a question about a particular product, and only because of my panic studying, I was able to make an educated guess based on the multiple choice answers of what it must be. Then there were a few more questions like that.

When the test finished, I had passed with 93%. I couldn’t believe it! I was so happy. My shaking got worse but this was happy, excited shaking. I started to well up as I got back to the car. All that stressing and studying had paid off. Or had it?

I had about an hours drive to get back to work. I started to think about the exam. My last minute cramming. The fact there were a lot of questions where educated guesses were made. I started to dwell on these questions and realise that without the multiple choice, I wouldn’t have known the answer. So did I deserve to pass? No. That was my conclusion. My being totally elated with passing, was short lived. The whole way back, I beat myself up for being a charlatan. I’d felt like I’d cheated. Like I didn’t deserve the pass.

What did I do next? Yup, you guessed it. I Debbie Downered the shit out of it. With every congratulations I got, especially with my high score, I felt the need to explain that I didn’t feel it was deserved. I also felt the need to reiterate that I got lucky with the questions, had it been another set of questions it may be a different story all together. This really got me down. The more I thought, and explained it, the worse and worse I felt.

Someone told me to be happy with the result, and explained that I’m a high stress person, who’s too self critical and that can “stress out the most laid back of people”. Ummm, thanks? Naturally this has been dwelling on my mind and now I’m worried that my disdain for myself is pissing others off. Very good. I have had people accuse me of using online cheating material, in a banterous way, but still, as you can imagine that has sent the panic flying; “what if they think I have cheated?!? I have made educated guesses on a lot of the questions, I don’t actually know what I’m talking about without the help of multiple choice. I don’t fully understand”. I had torn myself into pieces, and left myself feeling really shit about the whole thing. My boss joked that I could go back and resit it again if I really wanted, and a part of me thought I should. I actually took that into serious consideration.

After a couple of hours I had well and truly convinced myself that I just didn’t deserve the pass, or people’s congratulations. This was until I spoke to my friends. The ones who help me see the rational side of things. I had one tell me, that a pass is a pass, I did it on my own and it was deserved. Then another quite rightly pointed out that exams are just to show that you understand the concepts, that you are yet to implement, like a driving test. You can demonstrate that you can manoeuvre the car safely, but you don’t actually learn how to drive and be confident with it, until you’ve been out driving on your own for a while. I see their point, and my colleagues points too, but I still don’t feel happy like I think I should. I don’t feel like I deserve it.

In my counselling sessions, it has been touched on that there is a definite pattern of me not allowing myself to be happy. I have to put myself down. That is exactly what I’ve done. Why?!? Why must I do this! I have been studying so much in the last few weeks that I’ve barely seen my kids. I’ve been so moody, stressed and highly strung about the whole thing. I have passed with 93%!! And yes, with educated guesses, but for fuck sake, I did it! Me! Last minute cramming or not, I did it. I also know the topics I’m not 100% on, and I can now work on those.

Despite me knowing that I should allow myself to be happy, I just can’t. I am now also worried about how others in my work perceive me! Do they think I’m a charlatan? Does my being a Debbie Downer piss them off? Do I just piss them off? Do they even like me at all? Oh my god, just stop!! Like seriously! I need this shit to stop! I’m driving myself to distraction!

One of my best friends popped over last night and I was able to chat with them. It was great to get it all out and have them understand and help me see sense. I do fully appreciate how I’m being, but it’s hard to break a habit of a lifetime.

Positives here? Well, I’m now recognising the negative patterns and seeing that I need to break the cycle. How I do that I’m not too sure yet, but I have my appointment on Tuesday, where I will discus this with them. They have said that they’re going to help me retrain my thoughts, so I can have a more positive view of myself.

Now to get up, and try to enjoy my weekend and realise that I’m a good person, who works bloody hard and deserves my pass and to be happy! Easier said than done right? But, I’m at least going to try.

Second Appointment

Today was my second assessment, as my doctor from last week wanted to discuss my past further. For those of you who have read my previous blogs, you’ll know why this wasn’t easy.

Unlike last week I tried not to dwell on the appointment. I knew now, that I was going to be asked a series of probing questions, and that trying to prepare for them was futile. Around 2:30am my husband woke up to leave for work, and I woke up with him. From then, I pretty much lay awake, unable to get back to sleep. I tried listening to Spotify’s sleep playlist, and whilst I found it very relaxing, it didn’t help.

My mind was racing, but not about my appointment, just about a series of other things going on in my life right now. My exam, work, my feeling inferior at work, going over conversations with colleagues and scrutinising them. I was driving myself around the bend, just laying there, listening to melodic piano music, whilst my thoughts went out of control, and before I knew it, my alarm was going off.

By the time I got to work, I was like a complete zombie. This made me feel quite anxious, as it can often feel similar to depersonalisation. Like I’m walking around in a hazy dream. It’s a horrible feeling. I worry that I’m losing control, and one day, I won’t snap out of it. Have you seen the move “Get Out”? If not, brilliant film! There is a scene whereby the main character is hypnotised and gets lost inside his own head. I relate to that scene on so many levels. I am so scared of getting lost inside my own head. It’s such a dark and cold place, one that I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy.

Fake smiles, laughter, menial conversations and work, is how I got through my morning. Anything to distract myself from how tired, and anxious I was feeling. What I really wanted to do was run home and curl up in bed and forget about everything. No work. No worries. No menial conversations. No having to paint a socially acceptable face on. Just to crawl into my nice, warm, non-judgemental, bed that expects nothing of me.

On my drive to my appointment, I put one of my metal playlists on. Cranked my music up as high as I could stand, so as to drown out the thoughts. I just needed peace until I got there. I find that loud music is about the only thing that stops it. It’s so loud, that the bass is literally vibrating through my teeth. The sensory overload helps to dull the madness.

My knees were barely bent, when my name was called. I still felt very disorientated at this point, but no longer as anxious. When I sat down on the couch, I was given a quick recap of what we had discussed last week and what they wanted to discuss with me this week. I was first asked to talk about my childhood. What was my childhood like? What are my parents like? Am I close with them? Do I have siblings? Am I close with them? If I could describe my childhood with one word…? Given the previous questions, she didn’t seem shocked when my one word for my childhood was “shit”.

We literally went from where I was born, until I met my husband. We spoke of my shit childhood, my not being academic at school, being bullied, abusive relationship, drinking, drugs, and finally when I turned my life around. It was going through all of this, answering her probing questions that a pattern of self loathing has emerged. This isn’t a new thing. I’ve never had anything nice to say about myself. I’ve always thought I was ugly, stupid, not good enough etc. This has been with me since I was a little girl, and the behaviour is so deeply ingrained.

It was another very emotional meeting. I was quite shocked that I’d cried, because a lot of what we spoke about isn’t exactly deep dark secrets, and is pretty much common knowledge for the most part. I think it was the way in which they ask the question, it makes you think about your answer and actually take the time to realise what you’re saying. To realise that my childhood was NOT ok! My abusive relationship was NOT ok! My sister (only 10 years my senior) raising me, was NOT ok. Not having parents who gave a fuck about me more than money and alcohol, was NOT ok! To tell myself consistently that I’m ugly & useless is NOT ok.

We discussed what we thought would be the biggest issue I have; is it my anxiety or my depression? It was agreed that I’m depressed because of my anxiety. It makes me miserable with all the negative feelings it causes me. It has been suggested that I no longer go for the 20 sessions, but rather go for 12 sessions of CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy). They believe they can help me and give me exercises/homework to help me retrain my thoughts.

I’ve been left feeling quite sad after today’s appointment. It’s got me thinking about things, I haven’t thought about for years. This makes me both sad and angry. With my husband being away from home, this also means that I’m just sat here alone, playing the worlds smallest violin. Never a good thing!

I have chosen to write this blog now, as I knew that writing it all down would help. I’m certainly not feeling as bad as when I started. Now I think it’s time to try and switch off. I’m about to put a mindless TV show on, and hopefully just lose myself for an hour. No thinking, studying, or playing the violin.

The positives for me here, are that I’m making progress. That is my assessment done, and now I just need to wait for next weeks appointment when my CBT begins. Just think, in 12 weeks time, I could be starting to feel better? I could maybe have some positive feelings toward myself and my life? This is more than positive, that would be amazing.

I will be sure and update again next week, and hopefully will be able to share some techniques I’ve been given to work on.

First appointment – all over the place

When I woke up, I was in relatively good spirits. This was until I realised that I couldn’t have my morning ritual of a nice latte, thanks to getting bloods taken. It may seem menial to those of you reading, but my coffee is literally my only vice. It is also something that I like to enjoy in peace and quiet, sitting in the dark, in the kitchen, looking out the window, just relaxing. I’m fully aware of how that sounds, just putting that out there. It’s not as sad as it sounds. It’s the one time of the day I don’t have to moan, repeat myself, shout, argue, or be angry. It is a sacred time.

Given there would be no chilling out with my latte today, I just proceeded to get ready. As I stood in the shower, thinking about the conversation my husband I had just had, about growing up and all our old friends from when we were really young, you know, back when life was totally innocent? I was reminded that today is my old friend, Kelly’s, birthday. Kelly passed away 4 years ago. In the end we weren’t even all that close, however, she was one of my best friends during my darkest times. Since having my kids, we drifted further apart, only speaking on special occasions, or when she was wasted and emotional. In later years, I stopped answering the phone to Kelly as often, and I wouldn’t even feel guilty. I saw it as; I had moved on, she hadn’t, and I didn’t need that in my life! Not when I’d worked so hard to move on.

The day of Kelly’s funeral was a surreal day. I think because I’d not been close with her in the end, so it all didn’t feel real. When I arrived at the crematorium, other than my husband and an old mutual friend, I knew no-one. I looked around at this sea of strangers. A rather haunting, dubious looking bunch. All unsavoury, and I’m not even convinced they weren’t completely off their tits. In middle of this sea of strangers, was her Mum, Grace, who was completely unrecognisable. Aged terrible, and clearly off her face. When Grace saw me and came in for a big hug, telling me how much she’d missed me being around. All I could think was “Please get off me!”, how bad is that?  I didn’t even cry at the funeral. I just sat, scrutinising the song choice. Not a single song was something Kelly would have liked. We then ended up in the most horrific pub, where I had to sit on the edge of the seat because of the grime, there was no fizz in my drink and the glass was dirty. I sat in this pub, just looking around at this scaly bunch and all I could think was “This was very nearly my life”. Needless to say, we didn’t hang around and we were promptly out of there.

I spent the next few days thinking about Kelly, our fun times, our not so fun times, how differently our lives ended up being. Then the thoughts of “Could I have helped her?”, “Should I have tried to influence her more?”, “If I didn’t shut her out, and she had someone more stable to rely on, would she have ended up like this?” Again with the blaming myself. I drove to the crematorium gardens a few weeks after her funeral, and just sat in the garden, and it was at this point it hit me. I cried. I felt really bad for all the times I’d ignored my phone, for not being more constant in her life, for not trying to help her, for not being the friend she clearly needed, for being so incredibly selfish with my own needs, and that I left her behind.

When I was a teenager my Mum would throw my out on a whim. Seriously! Granted I wasn’t a nice kid. If I was my Mum, I’d have likely worn me like a shoe, but the fact is, she didn’t have that approach. My Mum didn’t parent, she just pushed problems away. Resulting in my being homeless, a lot! During these times, my friend was really there for me, making sure I had somewhere to go and that I wasn’t alone. Now, this was also what helped make me worse, don’t get me wrong. It pulled me deeper into a darker lifestyle, and was the root to all my addictions. Without my friend though, I honestly don’t know where I would have been, or how I would have coped.

Every year on her birthday, I get sad. I think of the age she would have been, had someone cared enough to help her. Had someone encouraged her to be more, and to want more from life? It also leads me to think of all the scenarios for my life. All the dark turns it could have taken. Would I have been dead by now? Quite possibly. It’s a dark train of thought to be caught in, and really, it needs to stop. Much like all my other dark thoughts.

By the time I got out of the shower today, I was feeling a bit meh. Although, I knew I had my meeting today, and this was something to be looking forward to, right? I would love to say I was keen, but I was nervous. The thought of having to tell a complete stranger what is going on with me, why do I feel I need to be there. How do you even begin to articulate something short and concise. Can you just blurt out “Because I’m a crazy, scatty bitch that needs to be happy”?

Once in work, I just couldn’t focus. I didn’t care to focus. My mind was on ways to tell this stranger what is going on. When it was time to leave for my appointment, I was so sure I knew how I was going to explain it all. Do you think that went to plan? Hells no. As I sat in the waiting room, on my own, I just scanned around looking anywhere, but the receptionist. The room was almost bare, bar a rack of leaflets for a series of mental health issues. I started to read the titles: Insomnia? Anxiety Disorder? Depression? Anger management?, do I just pick them all up? Fill my pockets for some reading material? I was ticking all of the boxes for these.

My name was called, and my palms started to sweat profusely. My mouth instantly dried up. I’d forgotten all of the words I’d thought up to say. The woman who came to get me, was a petite woman, softly spoken, and very pretty. Straight away I’m thinking she’s probably judging me for my unkempt appearance (jeans, boots, jumper, barely brushed hair, spots out). I’d say she was probably the same age as me, if not a little bit older. This leads me to start thinking that my telling her about my life, she’ll judge me for not having my shit together. All of this is before we’re half way up the corridor. I’m trying to fix my hair by running my fingers through it, and making attempts to catch a reflection in some glass panels on doors we’re walking past. All to no avail, we were walking too fast!

This first appointment was just an assessment. It was a lot of questions about my mood of late, when did I notice my moods changing, rating my happiness/agitation/anxiety etc. Given it was an assessment, I didn’t expect to cry. I did though. Quite a bit. I felt very vulnerable, telling a stranger my insecurities and how sad I’m feeling. Things I’d only been able to admit to my husband, and myself, only the day before. We spoke about my history with mental health, my attempted suicide, how I feel as a parent, my anxiety issues, health anxiety, the time I nearly died (the root of my health anxiety), it was just all over the place. So much to cover, and not enough time. I didn’t feel I explained myself well, although the therapist seemed happy with me, and confident they can help.

This doctor just sat opposite me, smiling when I was talking, making encouraging comments, trying to keep the flow on topic. The whole time my mind is racing as I’m talking, trying to think up the next thing to say.  This caused the conversation to ping pong around. Bouncing between present day, a couple of years ago, and then all the way back to the beginning. I was trying to let her understand where it comes from, or how it could be linked, or where my OCD’s come from. How on earth do you fit that into an 1 hour appointment? I was so nervous with every question asked. Like it was an exam and I could get them wrong. Or that I wasn’t getting what she was trying to get at. I’m shaking my head at myself as I write this, because I know how bonkers it sounds. I figure that her smiling the whole time, and being really encouraging is a good thing though.

I was feeling a bit down after my appointment. I think because it was just a little emotional talking about everything, and because of me thinking about Kelly. I am feeling a bit better now though, as I have my appointment for next week sorted, and I know that in 20 weeks time, I should feel better. That is all I want. I was asked at the end what I wanted from them. If they could wave a magic wand to help me, what would I want? My simple answer was “To be happy, less angry, and more confident”. If they can give me the tools I need to have these, I’d be eternally grateful.

Positives? Well, my first appointment/step is out of the way. I’ve started my journey on figuring out what my issues really are, where they stem from, and how I can work on living with them better, or even, being free of them altogether. I have been enrolled in a 20 week session, and I’ve been offered a group confidence thing, although I think I’ll swerve that. I’m all for having confidence, it is something I lack completely, but I’m not one for group sessions. I just envision some hippy bullshit. Yes, I know, that it incredibly pessimistic and it’s probably nothing like that. I’ll still be swerving it though. Who knows, I may be more open to it in the future.


Imma eat some worms

Not too sure about you, but I constantly think the world hates me. That everyone I talk to is fed up of me, that they just appease me because they’re too nice to tell me to do one. I genuinely do not believe that the people I interact with in a day (close friends aside), actually want anything to do with me. I leave every single conversation, scrutinising everything.

What is the deal? Why? Why must I do this to myself? Why must I care? O.o I’m cool with people not liking me, I get I’m not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. I think what gets me is they might be being nice to my face, but then not nice behind my back, or even just thinking to themselves that they want me to just f*ck off, but are too nice to say so.

As someone who is acutely self-aware, I pick holes in everything I do. It’s actually one of my obsessions. Myself. I am my own obsession. Not even in a good way. You know, not like I sit here thinking I’m da bomb, and marvel at how awesome I am. Instead, I sit and magnify all the negatives about myself. About how I look. How I sound (this is a new one, my voice, I now hate it), how I am as a person, my morals, how I live my life, am I a nice enough person?  I scrutinise it all, and I worry that if I see all these things, and it irritates me, how must I come across to others? What must they think when they see me? Do I repulse them, how I repulse myself? What about my acne? Do they think I’m not clean? It’s exhausting.

So what do I do? That’s right, I talk about myself, and all of my flaws, and short comings, quite publicly….a lot! Why? I think it’s because I want the world to know, I’m aware! I know I’m not good looking, I have skin issues, I’m fat, I’m not that clever, I know all the bad things about myself. More than anyone will ever appreciate, and I think I need the world to know, I know, so they don’t judge me and think I don’t.

Even writing that out, it sounds totally mental, but this is how I am. The very second I fuck up, I’m vocalising it to people. Otherwise I will worry someone will notice it and be all “Oh look, she fucked up again”, so I want to pip them all the post. How self-indulgent does that sound? This is me assuming that people care enough about my fuck ups to even have that reaction. I have convinced myself that everyone cares about all the things I self-obsess about. Then there is my appearance; as soon as I enter a conversation with someone I need to point out how crap my hair is, my new spots, my weight. As, again, I’ve convinced myself they’re judging me. Utterly self-indulgent. It’s so cringy.

Now I worry that I come across as narcissistic. This has been my new worry; “Here she is, talking about herself again”, is what I think they’re all thinking. Does this stop me talking about myself, laying it all bare, no? I need them to know, I know. It will then lead me into an anxious spiral, where I will replay everything I just said about myself, then think things like “Honestly, do you think they care? Get a grip and stop it”, followed by “You should have explained more, maybe they wouldn’t think you’re so self-obsessed … “. This then leads me to self-loath some more.

It is these thoughts, coupled with how a few people have been with me of late, that has lead me to the overall conclusion – No one likes me. That’s it. I have but a few friends. Other than this, the world just puts up with me, because they’re either too nice, or just two face – not made my mind up which yet. I’m sure I’ll overthink the shit out of this later, and categorise everyone into the group I think they best fit. Yes. I’m that sad.

Definitely not in a good place right now. My head is well and truly minced from all the thinking, self-loathing, obsessing, worrying, and stress. I’m feeling down and angry all the time. Taking it out on those closest to me, by being short and unreasonable. I know I’m doing it, but I can’t stop myself. I know I’m an absolute horror of a person. I watch it all play out, I hear myself, I cringe, and I hate it, yet I cannot stop it. The bubble of rage I feel about life in general just overwhelms me. So why rage? Why am I so angry? My life isn’t bad. I’m actually very lucky. I think it’s just certain situations, and some people, that I really let get to me.

I’m back to the whole, life is unfair, why me crap again. Add into that, the fact I’m now convinced that no-one likes me and their being nice is superficial, and my being self-obsessed, I’m absolutely wired with anxiety.

If I could honestly have anything in the world, just one wish, it would be simple. I just want to be happy. I’ve read so many self-help things, and they all say the same thing, that you need to learn to be happy with yourself and what you have. Why do I find this so difficult? Anyone looking at my life, would tell you, I have it pretty good.

So, what’s the plus side here? Where is my PMA? Have to admit, I’m bloody struggling to find any just now. About the only thing I can think of is, I have my psychology appointment next week. I’m both happy and nervous about it. This whole meeting a stranger, who I need to try and explain all the madness that is my thought process and try to make sense of it, so that they can tell me what is wrong with me, and how to make it kindly do one. I’m not naive enough to believe this appointment will be a magic wand, it’s just the first step of many. I just really want this to all go away L I’d even just settle for feeling content. I can forego happy for content. I just can’t deal with being this sad anymore.

Apologies for my PMA not quite being what it should be, but I cannot lie and be all upbeat when I’m really not feeling it. I will write again once I’ve had my appointment, as I’m sure I’ll have something to say – hopefully something more positive!