This is mostly just an update because I'm utterly wiped. We came home from Kildare yesterday, and as expected I found the transition back to Oughterard challenging. I was anxious, edgy, snappy and irritable. Mostly everyone stayed out of harms reach, the kids went to bed and I got lost in Netflix for a bit (which is in itself a mixed blessing - it's like hitting the pause button my brain which is wonderful, but then it's like a punch to the head when Netflix goes off and reality comes back in).
Anyway, today I had to get myself into town to see Therapist, then back out to see my GP. In the interim they spoke to each other. Her assessment of me is that I'm overwhelmed, I've lost perspective, I'm tired and I have suicidal ideation. That's not to say I am actively suicidal, but rather I find myself thinking far more often than I'd like that my family would be better off without me. I haven't quite thought through what that means or how that would happen, it's just an abstract concept right now. But it's one that scares me, scared her a little, and possibly set my GP on edge as well. He's faxing a referral in to my consultant today in the hope that I can see her this week. Unfortunately history has taught me not to hold my breath on this one.
In the meantime I wait. I do whatever I need to get through the next few days. I take extra anti-anxiety meds that take the edge off, but are effectively a band aid, they won't change anything. Otherwise? I hope not to get lost in the public health system. And I think we can officially start calling this a relapse.
Labels: agitation, anger, anxiety, behaviour, depression, disordered thinking, GP, psychiatrist, relapse, therapist, treatment