I didn’t tell all of the story yesterday. I scared myself. I was doing something, trying not to think about The Stuff I Haven’t Done for 5 mins, and I realised I talking to myself under my breath, a bit like you might catch yourself humming or singing a song. Except I was muttering “I’m going to kill myself” on repeat.
That is not my thought, I’m not thinking that, I don’t want to do that, why am I saying it? It must be some part of my brain that isn’t me saying that because I do not want to do that, not even close. Except there is no part of my brain that isn’t me.
I’m struggling to explain what it felt like, because describing it makes me seem, well, mad, like a person in a story with voices in their head kind of mad (which is surely an ignorant/rude/insulting way of describing it but I’m struggling with the words for this so please understand I don’t mean it to be). But the reality was far from what my media conditioned brain thinks of as “mad”. It was the opposite. It was mundane, uneventful. I was concentrating on a task and it just happened. And I only just noticed.
Which is why I kind of need to make myself go the GP. I’m guessing this counts as a change in symptoms. I don’t want to overplay it, I’m not planning on doing anything. But, still. If there is a small part of my brain that is thinking these things without me realising it, then, yes, I need help.
There is a thing in my life that causes me stress, great stress. Its a volunteer responsibility that I took on at my lowest because I didn’t know how to say no and I thought my husband wanted me to do it. I have always associated it with stress and therefore avoided dealing with it, which makes problems, which stress me, etc etc. I don’t do it well. I’m letting people down. I’m ashamed. I’m afraid that I’m going to get publically shamed. It’s all mixed up with not admitting to anyone that I’m ill. Gosh. Ill. Don’t think I’ve thought of it that way before. Right, park that one, back to the point.
I have done a bare minimum sorty outy thing tonight. I need to do more. But I’ve come to realise, I need more than that. I need an exit strategy. For everyone concerned sakes. In the past I’ve thought “I can’t stop doing this, it’s in such a mess I can’t hand it over, I need to fix it first”. And then failed to fix it, carried on as always, ignoring it and being rubbish and letting people down and causing me stress.
I really don’t feel able to talk to my husband right now, I don’t feel I can put upon him at this time. So, I’ve emailed the counsellor I saw last summer. And I’m contemplating making a GP appt. It’s all a bit eek really. In so many ways I’ve been doing so much better. But, there is no staged return to life, so I’ve been ignoring a corner of it and that is, as I know, a rubbish strategy.
So there, in circles, to no one in particular, it is. I need a plan.
Facing up to your problems is the first stage of solving them, right? So, this is a small step in the right direction. And hopefully I will be able to sleep tonight.