Again another week has passed with as many Posts from me as Stoke City away wins this season, and this has been pointedly pointed out by tweeting pal Simon, who feels I may have lost my blogging soul to twitter.
My Depression and Other Animals
I’ve had a humbling week.
It came to a head with a card pushed through my door. Apparently there is a rat taken residence under the back step up to my yard. Seems this rodent is using this nook as a base to make raiding parties to the plethora of take away businesses that make up the commercial sector of my little corner of Stoke-on-Trent. It was bad enough thinking a rat was squatting at the edge of my yard but the card said that someone wanted to pop round to explain how they were going to dispose of it. It was the fact that someone wanted to come into my house that alarmed me most. You see I am not the most domesticated of creatures. Actually that’s like saying, Trevor & Simon weren’t that keen on doing bedding*.
To be utterly honest, and what other honesty is there I have been living in a absolute dump. Such a dump that I would not have dared to let anyone in my front door. Why have I allowed things to get to such a point, well I’m not absolutely sure. Yes, an inbuilt messiness is certainly a factor but how I have had so little self respect is more complex, or perhaps more likely more to do with my complex.
I think it is fairly obvious to everyone (evidently except me!) that I am prone to depressive slumps. I know I did last summer, which coupled with a dose of anxiety frankly left me a bit nuts (sadly still with nuts!) for a period. During spells like this I tend to withdraw under my bed covers, only venturing out to go to work. The legacy of this is the state of my house. Well no more. Now I’m not blaming my messiness on the state of my mental health, but it is certainly is a trigger, and vice versa. Well as I said, no more. An egg is enough.
I have to say its friends who have dragged my by the bra straps. Firstly Heather gave me a good pep talk during a late night MSN session and then, while I was working on Friday, a small swat team of 3, Vicky, Sam and Helen descended on chez Jen, unbeknownst to me. Well I knew Vix was going round but I didn’t know she had enlisted the others. They must have worked like Trojans on a bonus scheme, because when I got home I found myself in someone else’s house, with an actual floor to walk on. Anyway on top of that I was given a firm lecture to stop being so pig headed and if I get depressed for god’s sake see my doc. Its typical of me, someone working within mental health services yet too stubborn to recognise my own needs.
D’OH
Earlier in the week I made another screw up. To be more exact I made my screw up on the March 9th ** 
On Wednesday I was sitting staring blankly at my Calendar on outlook trying to find a gap to slot in, when some Annual Leave when I though to myself “when is my next appointment at the Gender Clinic ?”. As I scrolled down my diary as far as November with no answer forthcoming I realised I ought to call the clinic and find out.
Bbrrrrrr Brrrrrr …click “I wonder if you can help me. I’m ringing to find out when my next appointment is. My name is Harvey, Jenny Harvey.” “Can you hold a bit…cue, dum deeee deee dummmm deeee dumm deee dummmm click….hello? yes I’m afraid you missed your last appointment on the 9th March. We can’t arrange another appointment, Dr thingy will be writing to you in due course”
Oh Crikey, Oh F***, Oh Blimey, Oh S***.
Well I know the Gender Clinic is rightly very strict on missed appointments and feeling a touch ashamed and worried I wrote off to Dr thingy. For as much as anything it was because he has been tremendously supportive and I genuinely look forward to my sessions with him and I wanted to apologise personally. Missed appointments are a blight on NHS resources and on 9th March, I added to the blight. My excuse for missing the appointment is that I’m a dizzy idiot. Granted its not the best of my defences, but there you are.
So a week to forget . . . . .What week ? . . . . See I can get something right.
* If you never watched Going Live in the late 80s then don’t worry, just don’t bring your duvet * *pointless aside: my Union has stopped using the ths so it should be 9 March. huh!
Next up, this week :
Speech Therapy, Anton & Erin, and on Saturday 28 March the G20 are in town , so as Marillion put it in Market Square Heroes…. ”We March”
http://www.putpeoplefirst.org.uk/
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4 comments:
You must be a pretty special woman to have friends like the ones who cleaned your home. What a great pick-me-up! Please do take care of your mental health; depression has a way of silently taking over.
I could sure use some friends like yours...though they'd been in for a longer slog I fear!
(Packrats 'r' Us...I should be a member!)
The last problem I had like the one under your step I dealt with using an air rifle and pellets at 38 feet...they were in a neighbors shed and trying to move into my unattached garage; I popped the screen from my bedroom window and called my shots while sitting on my bed. The largest of the 7, a bit over 14" not counting his tail, screamed as he flipped on his back and died.
Probably not legal there, but much cheaper than an exterminator and safer than poison with my own pets and kids running around then!
I always worry when you go quiet, but end up thinking you're busy with work or something and that I'm projecting my own demons...next time I'm writing!
alan
You have really great friends! And I hope the doctor that you like will see you again.
We don't do duvets! Off to swing my pants etc.:)
Kudos to your friends as well.
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