Thursday NOS

I live in the kind of place where you can only really get one cruddy local radio station. Like all such FM stations, it specialises in banality and 80s music. After days and days of rain, the sun is gently burning, the clouds are white and the sky is blue.

Depression is doing the lead balloon raincloud thing over me regardless; I have my own private weather system. Apparently it’s the weepy kind (does post menstrual syndrome exist?), I sobbed my heart out at a tv programme last night. This morning the damn tears have been ebbing and flowing just below the high water mark. I went into my shrink’s rooms to pick up forms and managed to get an appointment later today. I said wait, I need to make sure I can pay; when I got back, I was told to just pay whatever cash I can for the appointment. I landed up kinda grasping a receptionist’s hand and sort of almost not crying.

Sadness in sunshine always reminds me of Tim Burton talking about the difficulties of growing up Goth in sunny California. I believe that he’s bipolar too.

I’ve got that muffled and stoned feeling that depression sometimes causes and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to ask or tell the shrink, but I’ll figure it out. The past three nights’ lack of sleep is a major player here I guess.

I wish there was a system where you could input moods etc daily and then your meds doses would be generated, so they’d be tuned a bit like a musical instrument. All the current research appears to be focused on helping the patient work out when an episode is on the way – but what then? How fast, how often could one get help/feedback? I suspect that what we need is more/more accessible psychiatrists and psychopharmacologists, the latter being a wondrous, mythical beast, of which I have only heard legends.

This morning a woman I know was replaying a tune she’s been singing a lot lately. What is the point, there has to be a point, I feel so rootless … and for her it’s circumstantial and will be alleviated fairly soon. Anyway, I said well I think we choose our own point/s and she looked at me and said you don’t exactly have options do you? And then she said (astutely), well of course there are millions of options, but I don’t know how attractive you find any of them. *aggressive growl of a sigh* SIGH!

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