Last night, I found that an e-mail had been sent by the Healthy Minds folk: my counselling sessions have come through at last, as of Tuesday 13th March. The first appointment is set for 13:00.
Crap!
I have no idea what to do, what to say.
At the time of applying, my feelings were clear, albeit it in a muddled sort of way. Now, I am not feeling that way. Now, I am feeling the way I was feeling before the feelings; before the confusion. Now I am feeling as I felt when my heart and mind were being swallowed up by things happening, too involved with coping to feel any other way than how I used to feel. Determined, focussed, a little numb, occasionally overwhelmed...my attention is back to being centred on others rather than myself.
So...what do I do?
I know the problems are still there, below the surface, but right now...I don’t know if I can access them. So...right now, do I need counselling?
If I cancel, I will be removed from the list and possibly shan’t be able to reapply, but, should I cancel anyway? Would I be wasting people’s time if I didn’t?
What if I go, and then can't think of anything to say?
Those were my thoughts as of 4am this morning, anyhow.
Make of them what you will.
B.C.B.F.L.B x
Tuesday, 27 February 2018
Saturday, 24 February 2018
I’m still alive.
Yeah. Still alive.
Things have just been...
...lets just say that they have been ‘just’.
I’ve woken up half an hour early today - after enjoying a genuinely lovely dream following the progress of a woman called Mia (MiMi to those she reckons with), who had a nervous breakdown but ended up happier in the end - and now am sat, all ready to shove my iPad in my bag and head off to work, suddenly filled with the desire to talk.
So here I am. =waves=
In a little over twenty four hours now, we will be burying my darling Grandpapa. ...except that we shan’t be burying him; we shall be cremating him, a fact that now I come to think of it seems wrong in the extereme. Perfectly natural, I expect; not wanting a beloved family member to be burned up and reduced to ash. But in any case, I don’t get a say one way or the other: it’s up to Grandpapa himself, and he wanted to be cremated, so...yeah. Burn, Grandpapa, burn.
In other news, I ordered a pair of bras from Evans and they don’t fit (always a risk), which would be fine, except that I also ordered three grey T-shirts and they do fit, and I want to keep them, because they are really nice.
=sighs=
Oh well.
I shall have to put on my Big Girl Knickers and learn how to do a partial return via post, because I have no use for bras that are one cup size too small, and am determined to keep the T-shirts
. In fact, I am so determined to keep them that in a fit of drunken peak, I wore one of them to bed last night, and now am wearing another one this morning, so I think I have GOT to keep them.
...at least I don’t have to visit MJ in hospital today.
Yep, he is incarcerated again. Not his mind this time. His body. He has been Very Poorly Indeed and it is going to take him a very, very long time for him to get better. A process not helped by the fact that his mind has decided to ignore the medication it’s being fed and poison itself into sickness as well.
Yeah.
It’s been quite a rough three to four months.
No end in sight at this point.
But I’ll keep on trundling down the tunnel anyway, regardless.
You have to, don’t you?
B.C.B.F.L.B x
Things have just been...
...lets just say that they have been ‘just’.
I’ve woken up half an hour early today - after enjoying a genuinely lovely dream following the progress of a woman called Mia (MiMi to those she reckons with), who had a nervous breakdown but ended up happier in the end - and now am sat, all ready to shove my iPad in my bag and head off to work, suddenly filled with the desire to talk.
So here I am. =waves=
In a little over twenty four hours now, we will be burying my darling Grandpapa. ...except that we shan’t be burying him; we shall be cremating him, a fact that now I come to think of it seems wrong in the extereme. Perfectly natural, I expect; not wanting a beloved family member to be burned up and reduced to ash. But in any case, I don’t get a say one way or the other: it’s up to Grandpapa himself, and he wanted to be cremated, so...yeah. Burn, Grandpapa, burn.
In other news, I ordered a pair of bras from Evans and they don’t fit (always a risk), which would be fine, except that I also ordered three grey T-shirts and they do fit, and I want to keep them, because they are really nice.
=sighs=
Oh well.
I shall have to put on my Big Girl Knickers and learn how to do a partial return via post, because I have no use for bras that are one cup size too small, and am determined to keep the T-shirts
. In fact, I am so determined to keep them that in a fit of drunken peak, I wore one of them to bed last night, and now am wearing another one this morning, so I think I have GOT to keep them.
...at least I don’t have to visit MJ in hospital today.
Yep, he is incarcerated again. Not his mind this time. His body. He has been Very Poorly Indeed and it is going to take him a very, very long time for him to get better. A process not helped by the fact that his mind has decided to ignore the medication it’s being fed and poison itself into sickness as well.
Yeah.
It’s been quite a rough three to four months.
No end in sight at this point.
But I’ll keep on trundling down the tunnel anyway, regardless.
You have to, don’t you?
B.C.B.F.L.B x
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