Wow, my mind is spinning, so this isn't going to be easy to write. I've had a really really hard few days. Really hard. I'm not quite sure where to start though really, coz my mind's in a completely different place now.
I can't remember Friday, so let's start with Saturday. G picked me up a little after 1pm. I had a bath in the morning, and got kind of bored so listened to my happy songs. (I have a happy folder in my Firefox bookmarks). He's a late riser at weekends, which I can understand since he works hard all week and is exhausted by it, but I find it frustrating using all my spoons in the morning and then zonking out on him in the afternoon. It was good to see him. When he arrived I just wanted to drag him inside and hug him. I'd not seen him for two weeks after all. But I'm a wuss, so I didn't. I can't really remember what we actually did now, to be honest. I do know however that we had an absolute disaster of an evening, which was entirely my fault, and I feel horrible for it. It affected the whole of Sunday. He went out briefly to see one of his neighbours. I started crying. He didn't know this obviously. I managed to compose myself before he got back. He went out to the shop a bit later though, and I started crying again. I was just starting to get a handle on it when he walked back in. He caught me crying. Holy clap on a bike, that's the worst thing psychologically for me, it really is.
As a child I was depressed, but obviously I didn't have any concept of depression, and no one seemed to pick up on it. I spent my childhood and teen years crying myself to sleep probably every night. Occasionally my sister would hear me and come to see what was wrong. If my parents or my step brother found me crying I was .. told not to .. to put it politely. I learnt to cry silently. In fact, pretty often I can be sitting next to you crying and you'd not know it. I still have this mental block. No one can see me crying. It's terrifying. So while he comforted me, it made me worse.
Why was I crying? Well, because I'd failed him. I failed him Saturday night, and then again on Sunday morning, and a little song I wrote for my dad when I was about 11 years old, about how everything I ever do goes wrong, just kept going round and round my head. I felt like that child again.
On a rational note; it could have been PMT causing that. I'm not quite sure whether PMT causes the negative thoughts, or whether it turns them into tears, but occasionally I have emotional PMT. Not every month thankfully.
So, I came away from the weekend feeling that I'll probably never see G again. Oh, he's assured me otherwise, but I feel like I keep pushing and pushing, but I'm not doing it on purpose. It's just that since I've known him things have got steadily worse (and no, I'm not implying that it's his fault at all). The stress from the medical assessors notes has seriously been pushing me to my limit, which has lead me to me being a giant psycho cry baby, and to M.E. crash after crash after crash.
I've spent the last two days in tears. Well, mostly anyway. I don't remember much about Monday, other than I was in tears and banging my head against a wall at one point. Yesterday I started to feel a bit more rational ... my period started and my mind seemed to clear. But then I had a massive crying attack in the evening again. Notably, my period had stopped ... which is odd. I keep thinking I'm having a nervous breakdown again. I do not want one. Obviously. The fear of the fear can cause the fear though.
Well, this morning I woke up feeling melancholy. I lay in bed listening to the rain, which inspired me to write a poem which I've shared on FetLife. I may share some poems on here eventually, now that it won't be scrutinised. I got up and went to the bathroom. Now here's a weird thing, I keep getting emotional, cystitis, and constipation all at the same time. I wonder if they're related. Anyways, I sat on the loo and I decided that I need to force myself to have routine again. Just a simple thing. So here's my resolution .. which I'll probably not stick to ... but anyways:
- lie in bed and try to write a poem or read a little, listen to the birds or rain, or whatever is going on outside
- brush my teeth
- wash my face
- drink half a pint or a pint of water
- do ten sit ups
- take my medication
- make the bed (unless I'm getting back in it)
And later on in the day:
- wash plates as soon as I use them
- don't use a plate if I'm not up to washing it
- put clothes away as soon as removed
It's pretty basic, but it's a start. So, I got dressed, thinking these things through in my head. I want to remain in a tidy, clean house, despite the fact that I am technically not really able to maintain it. If I don't have the spoons to clear up, then I'll not make the mess to start with. I was not feeling positive. I felt as miserable as sin, but I had decided that there was no way in hell I'd let a breakdown happen, and the first step is to force myself to have a routine. Or so I've read anyway.
DWP smell about it. I was loathe to open it, but open it I did. Low and behold; they have reconsidered my medical assessment and allowed me to retain ESA after all, with no tribunal.
This is why my head is in a spin. The thing that has been causing me to stress out beyond my own control, has just been whipped out from beneath me. I mean .. yay, obviously. I hope it's that simple. I hope that means the stress is gone. But you know, what if the damage is already done. I guess we'll have to watch this space won't we.