And thus begins a new journal.

I don’t feel like I’m getting better anymore. That sounds awful; like you’re a disease I have to recover from, which is emphatically  not the case. The thing is, I don’t now how much of it is all about you now. I think I’m having too many days where I’m lost and miserable from start to finish. Without rhyme or reason.

So I made the decision to go see B.G. again and now have the referral I need. My G.P., the one I’m not so keen on, went through my mental health history and then took me through a questionnaire. Basically, the questionnaire is just so that she can justify my referral, but it was a bit of a reality check. I am sad, anxious, resentful and angry with a shitty attention span and shittier memory. And I’m having a lot of trouble sleeping, which of course robs me of that last little spark. I just don’t have the reserves to cope with being so sad so I go to pieces and then can’t find the energy to gather them all up again. Poor Jake is bearing the brunt.

I’ve been referred on with a label of “Reactive Depression and Anxiety” and I have an appointment in five days. I think everyone should know that by seeing their G.P. they can access this scheme which gives you rebates for 6 sessions with a psychologist. No one’s idea of a good time, but I’ve come to realise I just need to do something.

Dreading tomorrow. You and I would have been 20 weeks, and halfway to that first magic meeting.  

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