Self Aware
Drugs of choice:
One Word, Kelly Osbourne (well, why not?)
Henri Winterman's Cafe Creme cigars (no class at all)
40mg Fluoxetine still
Well, what was all that about yesterday? Melodramatic or what?
Yesterday morning I had a doctor's appointment. It went ok-ish. My GP was on holiday so I saw someone else, who was one of the grumpiest doctors that I have met and she could well do with sharing my medication. However, I only wanted my prescription repeating as I have decided not to try weaning again until after the wedding.
Then to the pharmacist to collect another two month's supply of happy pills. No problems there.
And then to work. A slow, quiet and boring day. I had plenty of work to do but was going nowhere, slowly. I was supposed to have a teleconference at 1230 (postponed until 1600) then another at 1500 (other person didn't turn up). So, by the time 1600 rolled around I was grumpy.
The 1600 teleconf was to discuss plans for a trip some colleagues and I are taking to Madrid next week. As they talked about the various presentations and shared out the action items I slowly and quietly started to panic. As I calmly agreed to things on the phone, I distracted my real thoughts by making two shallow, 2cm cuts in my left forearm with my penknife.
I hung up and drove home, feeling sick, shivering and trying to drive and cry at the same time. I walked in the door and H was there, it didn't take her long to realise something was wrong. We talked, I sobbed. We agreed that I'm obviously not ready for the pressure of a trip away and all it entailed.
I didn't tell her about the cutting. I nearly did as I struggled to fall asleep last night, but I didn't want to scare her. When I showered this morning the cuts just looked like nasty scratches.
I told my manager I couldn't go to Madrid and I was honest insofar as I told her about the panic attack. Obviously, not the cutting bit.
I will keep that to myself. Oh, you can keep a secret, cannot you?
One Word, Kelly Osbourne (well, why not?)
Henri Winterman's Cafe Creme cigars (no class at all)
40mg Fluoxetine still
Well, what was all that about yesterday? Melodramatic or what?
Yesterday morning I had a doctor's appointment. It went ok-ish. My GP was on holiday so I saw someone else, who was one of the grumpiest doctors that I have met and she could well do with sharing my medication. However, I only wanted my prescription repeating as I have decided not to try weaning again until after the wedding.
Then to the pharmacist to collect another two month's supply of happy pills. No problems there.
And then to work. A slow, quiet and boring day. I had plenty of work to do but was going nowhere, slowly. I was supposed to have a teleconference at 1230 (postponed until 1600) then another at 1500 (other person didn't turn up). So, by the time 1600 rolled around I was grumpy.
The 1600 teleconf was to discuss plans for a trip some colleagues and I are taking to Madrid next week. As they talked about the various presentations and shared out the action items I slowly and quietly started to panic. As I calmly agreed to things on the phone, I distracted my real thoughts by making two shallow, 2cm cuts in my left forearm with my penknife.
I hung up and drove home, feeling sick, shivering and trying to drive and cry at the same time. I walked in the door and H was there, it didn't take her long to realise something was wrong. We talked, I sobbed. We agreed that I'm obviously not ready for the pressure of a trip away and all it entailed.
I didn't tell her about the cutting. I nearly did as I struggled to fall asleep last night, but I didn't want to scare her. When I showered this morning the cuts just looked like nasty scratches.
I told my manager I couldn't go to Madrid and I was honest insofar as I told her about the panic attack. Obviously, not the cutting bit.
I will keep that to myself. Oh, you can keep a secret, cannot you?
posted by Anonymous at 15:10
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