On Friday night I helped give first aid to a woman who had fallen and smashed her face in near our house. We waited with her for an hour for the ambulance as she slipped in and out of consciousness. We saw her off (hopefully she’s ok now) and then I became very anxious so W took me to buy beer and cigs. I have been smoking to quell my cravings for other things. I’ve had the urge to self-harm and other risk taking behaviour. We went for a tour round various supermarkets, my hangouts of choice in my hypomanic/mixed periods because they’re 24 hours, met a cat and went for a very long drive and I seemed to calm down.
When we got back, W and I had a nice night talking and drinking beer until at about 3am when I realised we were sat on a blanket we’d given the lady we helped. I became convinced (despite it having been out of the way of any blood and I don’t think she touched it) was contaminated with hepatitis and HIV and became hysterical. I washed my hands until they were sore and cried and cried and cried. Eventually I went to sleep at about 6am.
We awoke yesterday at 3pm, went out to town for some meat for Sunday dinner and then had a really good takeaway – gourmet burgers and sweet potato chips. I managed to have a decent night but still didn’t sleep until about 4am.
Today I have been rather flat and depressed though we made an excellent Sunday dinner. W did beef with mustard, herbs and seasonings while I made Yorkshire puds, thyme-candied carrots, green beans and leeks with pancetta and the gravy to end all gravies: beef juice, red onion, red wine, lard, a roux, beef stock, Bovril, more beef juice and crumbled black pudding. It was a hearty dinner.
I feel properly tired for the first time in days so hopefully it’s a good sign. It’s been a bloody horrible episode though, even if my gravy was fantastic. This is what happens when I have nothing to do. It’s painful.