After months of feeling like crap and having my husband nag me to see a Dr, today was D-Day.
I went to the GP this evening and explained all of the problems I've been having for the past few months- both physically and mentally/emotionally. Told her that I'm having gynae issues with the implanon, and have been depressed. That its now breaking point because I've been thinking of suicide and self harm at least once a day for the last few weeks. That I don't want to commit suicide because that's what my dad did to me. I don't want my children to ever feel that or ever experience that.
Told her that my kids are the only thing that has stopped me from grabbing that razor in the bathroom, or eating every god-damned tablet in the medicine cupboard. I just want to curl up, go to sleep and never wake up. I hate myself. I hate my life. I know I should be grateful for everything that I have but I just can't seem to work up gratitude or enthusiasm for anything.
I've even stopped reading- and for me that's a HUGE thing. I read all the time. I've read over 60 books in the past 3 months. It is my one BIG love, my sanctuary, my escapism. But I can't concentrate enough to do it anymore. I just can't be bothered. I hat e cooking now and I used to love it! I don't know why! Now, everytime I know it's time to put dinner on, I think to myself "I can't be bothered. I don't want to. I hate this shit." And even though I'm not eating and I can't be fucked, I do it anyway because my kids and my hubby can't starve. It's not their fault I hate it. Why should they have to suffer?
The only thing I do now is make sure the kids are looked after properly. Its the only thing I can do. If I stopped looking after them I would NEVER forgive myself. I'd love nothing more than to hide in bed all day and let someone else deal with it all but I can't. I'm their mum. It's my responsibility. And I hate myself for resenting that at the moment. I feel so guilty. I love them more than anything and I would do anything for them and I'm looking after them like I should be. But there's this little voice that says "It's all too hard. I'd rather be sleeping". And that's what makes me guilty as hell.
So the Dr has put me on "Lovan" antidepressants and "Temazapam" sleeping tablets. She's also referred me to a psychologist (who happens to be away on annual leave- just my luck to lose the plot when the help is on holiday!) for therapy sessions and I have to check back in with her next week to follow up with the gynae probs. In the meantime I have a wad full of brochures, phone numbers and people to call if I feel like I'm going to top myself in the middle of the night (didn't tell her it's a bit late for that).
It was so fucking embarrassing telling the damn Dr that I'm suicidal. It was all the more painful having the bloody receptionist see my "Mental Health Care Plan" to pass onto the psychologist. Urgh!! Earth swallow me up! Then the chemist has to have a big talk to me about the meds in front of other customers because I've never had it before. God help me. I just wanted to get the tablets and get out of there. No such luck.
Hopefully this is a step in the right direction. I know I need help. I don't want to be like this for the kids- or for my hubby. It's fucking awful. I just hope they can help me get there, because I don't know how.
Appetite: Non existent
Sleeping: Really crap- can't get to sleep, waking thru the night, always tired
Mood: Depressed, anxious, anti-social, suicidal
Things that upset me today: Embarrassment of the Dr, the receptionist and the chemist knowing all of my problems. That Harry is sick and the Drs keep saying it's viral, not giving him medicine, and he keeps getting worse.
Things I'm thankful for today: my husband, the kids, the opportunity to get help, that my hubby's boss is giving him a week off while I start the meds and everything gets sorted out.