Personal Blogs

It's been a strange week full of highs and lows.  I've returned to having my moments of unconnected-to-anything random moments of euphoria, which is ok.  A few hours here and there of believing I am capable of anything is nothing to frown about.  It does seem to come hand in hand with a return of my panic attacks, anxiety and insomnia though.  It's all so badly timed.  All through the night when I should be sleeping I have all the energy in the world, but a complete inability to focus.  I jump from one thing to another, and when I come back down to normal levels of mental activity I take a look at what I've done and barely recognise that it was me that did it.  I had a really annoying attack yesterday.  It went against all the lessons I've been learning in this cognitive restructuring.  I don't know why I can't call it by its real name.  I think it's because I associate the word 'behaviour' with service users from my many years working in care.  Anyway, the washing machine broke on Monday.  That immediately made my heart start beating a little faster, but it was my boyfriend's birthday and I was determined not to ruin his day.  I think I still spoke of it ten times or so, but given I could think of nothing else, that's an achievement.  Yesterday we went to get a new one.  It wasn't too bad, apart from on the way up there my foot went again, which means I can't go running, and also means I can't go to body combat tonight, which means I will probably never go again.  On the way back I needed to get boring bin bags, and I knew I couldn't face the supermarket alone.  Mistake one.  If you think you can't do it, take a moment, ask yourself what's the worst that could happen, realise it's not that bad, and then go for it.  That thought flickered through my mind, and I pushed it aside.  I thought no, I can't be fucked to have to take time out just to get bin bags, I'll ask for company.  So we went together.  When we got to the till I had worked myself up into a heart pounding state, and when the self-service woman had to come over to swipe her little card I felt so close to collapse that I ran off under the guise of looking for asparagus.  Mistake two.  Don't attempt to start the 'activity' while you are in a state of heightened anxiety.  Calmed myself amongst the fruit and veg and returned without the asparagus, was able to pay, got home, and took nearly half an hour to get my heart rate back to normal and stop sweating and feeling sick.  It's not even bin day until Monday!!  Was it really worth it?  NO!!  Mistake three.  Ask yourself if this activity would be better carried out at another time. 

There again, if I had followed her rules I'd still be walking round in circles in the supermarket now, trying to get myself into a calm state.  If there's one thing I know for sure, is that the only time I can be truly calm is when I am at home, on my own on Dartmoor, or drunk.  And I wasn't drinking, I've moved away from Dartmoor, and I wasn't at home.  At least I have my bin bags!!  Ha ha, and that will save me the even bigger stress of attempting the supermarket chaos on Sunday, when everyone round here seems to think it's Christmas, and that they may starve between 4pm closing and the time they go to sleep. 

This morning, after deciding I'm not ready to face the world again just yet, I decided to start reading my S3 Block 3 book.  Not taking notes, just reading.  All was going fine until a minute ago, when I remembered I have my next session next week and I haven't done any of the 'work'.  Apart from reading that stuff on perfectionism.  Now I feel even further behind.  I'm behind in study AND behind in my life. 

I feel completely exhausted again. 

On a plus note I did chuck out a whole bunch of stuff in a moment of elation.  I'm not exactly sure what I threw out, but the place certainly looks much better.  I really want to paint my walls now, but it's not technically my house, so I can't.

I used to find it really relaxing to draw all over my walls.  I'm no artist, but it was still relaxing.  Then when I was in a better place, I'd paint it all over white again.  I think of one of my flats that had a few hundred layers of paint on it.  I'd have liked to see the people who bought it when they came to stripping it.  They must have wondered what possessed someone to paint their home that many times in such a short space of time.  I have massive white boards to doodle on, but nothing is as satisfying as the big pictures you can do with a paintbrush and a wall.  Maybe I should buy a room.