Some Days are Better Than Others

Am sort of singing that title in my head to The Smiths' "Some Girls are Bigger than Others". That is on my, ever changing, list of top ten songs (but is always in there somewhere).

As said in previous comments, I didn't listen to the Radio 4 Programme last night. Yep, I woossed out and not just because hate the sound of my voice but I really didn't think I was interesting enough. It wasn't like I was hard-selling blogland, although I do think it is one place where people with mental illness can express themselves freely, if they choose, without pressure to conform to one theology or another. And yes, there will always be opposing views and that is mostly a positive thing (certainly keeps me thinking) and as long as there is freedom of speech, people can write what they want and that is the best thing about it. Whatever the views, there is space to let them out. I should have ended interview with "Viva La Blogland Vida"!!!!

Anyway, back to everyday life, because I was away from home last night decided to alter appointment with support worker and met her in town. It didn't start off so good. When I went outside, palpitations were coming thick and fast and was struggling to breathe properly. I was holding it together until I crossed the main road. I rang my mate and said what was going on. That was helpful because they suffer in sort of similar ways. In the end we joked about the fact that there I am, trying best to look inconspicuous whilst sticking out like a sore thumb. Panic written all over my face and pacing about a bit too much.

I had settled by the time support worker arrived and so managed to enjoy our lunch. That was a real treat for me. I rarely do anything so social as eat in public places. Didn't have any nerves at all at that point. We ate and chatted and it was not so much like a 'heavy' meeting but more about enjoying each other's company.

One thing we did discuss was my next meeting with shrinky dink. I said I wasn't sure there was anything he could do for me. I certainly don't want to try a new medication. I think, overall, I am coping okay on lorazepam. It isn't the ideal (in psychiatric terms) medication for my illness but it is the one that works best for me.So, medication is not on my list of 'to talk abouts' although am sure there will be some discussion around how much sedation I am using...more to check that I am not abusing it... which, I don't think I am. For past 2 days have been back down to 1 tablet that lasts the day and night.

I did say that something that I feel is important to discuss is my relationship with Dad (more so how I deal or don't deal with his illness). Support Worker asked me what I thought about some talking therapy. I was a bit wary. My experience of talking therapies before has meant lots of meandering around and sometimes meandering off into illness or, worse, lots of target setting that didn't seem to relate to me. Support Worker said there is an opportunity for (at least to discuss the option of), some focussed sessions. For sure, I cannot continue to worry so much about Dad..it is impacting too much on my own well being and if Dad's depressive state continues on indefinately, I need to develop different coping strategies, for me. I know that but how that will be resolved is the big question. There may be ways, through the talking therapy, that I can work things through to a point where I at least feel more comfortable with myself when being with, trying to help...etc, Dad. Is something I am giving serious thought to.

So, after our meet up, I went walkabouts in town. I picked up some lovely items for Em. They come from second hand shops and not afraid to admit that because they are very pretty things and it doesn't matter about the cost but whether the person will like them and I know Em will like them....AND I got the bus home.

After the last few days, was wondering if I would ever do that again but I did and without any flapping. I actually enjoyed the experience because another chap and myself had to run for the bus and the pair of us were exchanging banter on how unfit we were. Then, a couple of old folks were discussing their ailments and I somehow became part of that conversation without having said anything. Sometimes a smile is all it takes. Anyway, my stop arrived pretty quickly so I said my goodbyes and the chap I originally got on with said "See you at the gym" (erm..maybe not). Got off the bus chuckling away to myself.

Yep, a good day...in which I felt part of life and not a spare part.

For those who have not come across the delights of Johnny Marr at his best, this is it: