Bits, Bobs and Loose Ends

I haven’t really written a proper post in a while. I sit, I think, I stop. I’ve been stressing out about Australia, AS levels and other generally unimportant shit and frantically writing posts. Not much has happened really. Not in the grand scheme of things.

A few weeks ago when I was in a bad way depression-wise, my mum called the Psychotherapy team to ask how long the big old waiting list they’d warned me about would be. As they wouldn’t tell her directly, I was dragged out of bed, only to be told it’d probably be in excess of two months. Disheartening stuff, especially when practically bed bound by crippling sadness.

On Saturday I must of got a letter which I only managed to read yesterday as I was out etc. But yes, I got a letter from the Art Psychotherapy team.

Dear Emma,

Following your referral to the psychological Therapies screening panel I would like to offer you an appointment. The appointment is arranged for:

3.30pm Tuesday 2nd September at [Insert name of hospital and department]

The purpose of this appointment is for you and I to discuss whether therapy might be helpful to you. etc etc etc.

It was only reading this back that I realised the important words here – “for you and I to discuss whether therapy might be helpful to you.” Whether? Does this mean I will be getting the therapy or is it purely based on how well I perform on the day in question?

Oh I don’t know. Right now I don’t particularly care. My mood is all over the place but fixed. It’s both high and low and that’s where it stays. Not in the middle, it’s both and I can’t describe that without it sounding like totally nutty nonsense. Whatever. It’s not a nice feeling at all.

I’ve been like this for a couple of days now. It gets no better. I lay in bed til 2pm, had my breakfast, a shower and, in the process, was roped into doing tomorrow morning’s shift at Oxfam. Experience tells me this will not be, by any means, fun. It’ll be an exercise of constant, non stop working. Something I doubt will be revelled in tomorrow.

Wednesday is coffee and therapy. Coffee with S from Oxfam then onwards to the big old House of therapy.

Thursday is the day that the GCSE results come out. A big day for my sister as it was a big day for me last year. After this we’re going over to Sheffield for a gander at the Uni.

Much avoided activity has pushed its bolshy self into my remit.

Something also irritating me is categories and tags. I think I need to sort them out. It’s winding me up. It’s stupid. It’s wholly insignificant.

I feel like an awfully ratty cow right now. The correct dosage of confidence and negativity through my mixed mood has created the bitch I am. Bad words keep popping from my mouth. Shut up Emma.