Halloween has been and gone, and firework night is nearly upon us, and the kids keep reminding me how ill I was this time last year, and I can't remember any of it.
It's like someone has been inside my brain with a hoover, and sucked my memory out. Apparently I didn't leave my room for days, I cried and screamed, and all I wanted to do was die.
The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
It is exactly 2 weeks until the anniversary of my first meeting with my psychiatrist, when I know I had decided that my only options were that it went well, or that I would die.
***
Having said that, its not all roses and smiles at the moment. I spoke to my psychiatrist yesterday and he is concerned about me. Concerned enough to increase the dose of my mood stabilisers and put me on antidepressants. Probably just for the winter, he said, but he doesn't want to risk me getting any lower.
***
Days like like last Thursday are enough to render even the toughest soul low. As if finding out that my son is going deaf and needs a hearing aid wasn't devastating enough, I didn't lock the keypad on my phone and it proceeded to dial its way through most of the people in my phonebook, including my dead father, the CSA, and he who left me (with whom I have had no contact for months). I actually stood in the Disney shop and cried when I realised what had happened, so mortified was I that he might think I was initiating some kind of contact. Horrifying, no matter how much I miss him.
The big-eared elephant wasn't the only Dumbo in that shop.
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Some days I feel like Betty Blue. Other days it's more like Betty Boop.
