Yesterday was..........trying. Most important part of the day - appointment with my psychiatrist back in Oughterard at 11.15. But before that, I had to do the following: drop Hubby to work, go to Lidl and stock up on winter gear for the kids, NCT at 9.45, back to Oughterard, drop the kids off, appointment, collect kids, lunch, back into town for appointment for D at 3. What I didn't factor in was multiple sets of roadworks, a delay of an hour waiting on the NCT and a puking child. Oh, and running out of petrol while sitting in traffic at one of the aforementioned set of roadworks.

My view for much of yesterday
Not awesome. Anyway, amid much stress I managed to get out to Oughterard for my appointment, 45 minutes late. For once, the fact that she ALWAYS runs overtime worked in my favour. And how did it go? Well, I saw another new doctor. I hate that. It takes me forever to build up a trust relationship with someone, particularly when it comes to talking about how I'm doing. Also this doctor was male and pretty much my own age which for some reason made me really uncomfortable. Unfortunately, as soon as he came out and called my name I was on the defensive. The fact that I had to tell him what meds I'm taking, that I have kids and that yes, I'm working, didn't help matters. He clearly had not read any of my history. I tried explaining what the last couple of months have been like but he really didn't get it. He appeared quite sceptical about the fact that I've experienced a change in how I'm doing since switching generics, I'm pretty sure he thought it was psychosomatic. Anyway, the end result was keep on keeping on, and switch to the third variation of the generic.

I was in foul form leaving the appointment. I was trying to work out why (apart from all of the above). I think, no, I know, there's a part of me that still very much does not want to accept where I'm at. I want to go in and be told that I don't need to take medication any more, that I just need to sharpen up my attitude and all will be well. That I don't have bpd. That I don't have clinical depression. But every time I go back and they insist that I keep taking meds, it confirms once more that there is a problem. A problem that for now is more or less under control, but a problem nonetheless. There's also the part of me that wants to give in when things start getting challenging, when I'm at the functionally depressed stage (ie undercurrent of feeling like crap, all the time, having to push really hard to keep going), as if I'm going for the all or nothing - I'm in a heap, or I'm fine. I don't like the middle road, and that seems to be where I'm spending a significant amount of time lately. 

But thinking back on this time last year? Things are much improved. Last Halloween I remember taking the kids trick or treating (incidentally, I hate that phrase. Whatever happened to 'help the halloween party?'!!) and I was in a pretty bad way. This year, although not without its challenges, is easier. I need to keep reminding myself of that, especially the part of me that wants to give in. That wouldn't be a good plan. 

When I finally got home yesterday I was beyond frazzled. I had decided to get into the jammies, and pretty much stay that way till the weekend. But once I actually got here, something clicked. I was wound to the hilt after all the chaos of the day, and desperately needed to work out some of that stress. So I did. I ran. It was awesome :-) 

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