Sneaky

I have sat here this morning and reflected back at the past week or so and I have realised that depression has snuck up on me again. It really is a sneaky bastard. I knew I was having problems a couple of days ago where I was having increased voices in my head trouble, but this morning it’s all too evident that things are not going as planned.

I have increasingly cut myself off from the world more and more as this past week has gone on.It all started last Saturday when I got a letter from the DWP who claim they were going to be changing over my Incapacity Benefit to ESA. Not bad considering they switched me over a year ago. Of course as is the case with the DWP they send me important stuff at the weekend so I couldn’t do anything about it until Monday morning. Cue a weekend of worrying troubled sleeping and all the fun that goes with anxiety.

Monday rolled around and I was up extra early to call the DWP. After being on hold for 15 minutes (they were kind enough to tell me every 90seconds that their less busy times were between 8 and 9 am. Christ what’s the wait time like after 9 I kept thinking to myself. Once I spoke with with someone from way up north of me, it turns out they have no idea why I had been sent the letter about switching benefits, but I still had to fill out the ESA50 form they had included. BASTARDS.

Things are starting to unravel.

Monday is my STEPPS group meeting. Feeling rather charged up I shared probably too much. I didn’t recognise the downward spiral that had started over the weekend, I put it down to lack of proper sleep and such.

The rest of the week up until Thursday kind of melded into one blur. I am sure stuff happened but sitting here now I’ll be damned if I can remember what, I do know that the voices were getting more and more ferocious. I wasn’t getting much relief from them. By Wednesday night they were disturbing my sleep again and I resorted to headphones and loud music to the point of not hearing so well after an hour or so. I know better than this. My hearing is one of the most important things to me. I lose my hearing and that would most definitely be all over for me.

Thursday morning I had a meeting with the Working Group for Rethink. A two hour meeting that felt like 5. Not because the meeting was boring, we got some good stuff sorted, I was just so distracted and couldn’t keep my focus for more than 10 minutes. There are some good opportunities with Rethink, I just hope sometime soon I’ll be able to start taking advantage of them.

Yesterday (Friday), it became evident that I was short on my Diabetes medication. I have to take one injection a day of this medication and it is usually sent 2x2pen packs. So I have 4 pens for two months.. yeah maths was never my strong point. Anyway, I was missing two pens to get me through to the end of the month. I phoned my GP surgery to find out why I couldn’t reorder the pens online and that’s when this bitch of a woman decided that it was her reason for breathing to protect the NHS from losing money and to drill home her point to people who make mistakes she humiliated me within an inch of my existence. Apparently I threw away almost £80 of medication because of this mistake. Yes I know I should have checked more closely when the Medications were delivered but you know, We don’t just get a little paper bag with a months supply of pills, this house gets at least THREE CARRIER BAGS FULL of medications in any one month. Excuse me if I can’t spot a missing box of medication. Anyway, the long and short of it is, the pharmacy doesn’t have the prescription anymore to check what the GP ordered for me, and the surgery wouldn’t issue another prescription until after the weekend when I am sure I am going to run out. The pharmacy have said that if on Monday things get desperate for me to call them in the morning and they can order a repeat for me. For me I have decided to change GP’s.

If you have read this blog for a while you will know I am not overly enamoured with my GP. He is far to easy to throw around diagnosis and medication changes without a great deal of thought. This final stab in the neck by the receptionist is the final straw. There is a GP surgery next door to the Hospital that I go to for my Mental’s stuff and I am going to call in there on Monday and see about registering there. According to NHS Choices, I don’t have to inform my old surgery and I don’t have to give reasons for wanting to change, but if anyone asks I am damned sure ready to explain why.

So that’s it. I am plastering on a fake face and plunging headlong through the crap that my messed up mind keeps throwing at me. I started writing this as a way to take my mind off of the bad stuff, but it has just re-enforced all that has been this week. Not an exercise in futility as it has distracted me for a while, but in the end I am still left with the voices and the bullshit that springs on and on.

Until Next Time…

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