Thursday – Felt relatively level. Friend M said I seemed ok to her (she’s good at spotting which way up I am) and managed to plug through uni in a cheerful manner.
Friday – Slept in a bit but not too late so was in a relatively level mood for most of the day. Had my appointment. Was really just an assessment as it wasn’t a straight transfer between my old doctor and the new place. However, three months of conscious living with bipolar ii has offered some new insight which was hopefully helpful. Explained about my history, including the old naughty business, to an extremely patient and non-judgmental social worker. I explained my deep, deep desire to sort out my relationships and explore medication and therapy together and gave a (probably patchy but what can you do) overview of my moods. She says I will hear from them in a couple of weeks, probably psychiatrist first and then psychologist can follow up at my own GP surgery (I didn’t even know that was a thing – really fantastic). Then W came and I didn’t want to really talk or do anything. We ate Chinese and watched films.
Saturday – Slept in late. Didn’t shower or really get out of bed. Watched films all day. Didn’t say very much. Not touchy-feely in the slightest. Didn’t want to do anything or go anywhere. Ate a lot. Was a bit irritable. Felt very tired.
Today – Slept in a little bit again. Got up, dressed and showered and went for breakfast at our usual spot. Quiet but more talkative than yesterday, not touchy-feely, lazy but washed. Not been in a bad mood as such but been a bit numb. I find weekends so difficult as I feel I’ve nothing to get out of bed for. Feel shame and guilt at my relief to be alone, feel like a disappointment, feel very bad for W, feel empty and then feel guilty whenever I manage to laugh or enjoy something because I’m not depressed enough. Then I also feel something I can only express through blowing air from puffed out cheeks, an abstracted nothing that’s also something. Feel annoyed that it’s just something I have to wait to blow over, worried that it might be something real bothering me that I either don’t know/don’t want to acknowledge/repressing some horrible trauma, feel a bit upset as had some bad memories over the weekend, feel annoyed that it’ll change and it’s not ‘real’ so no point expressing it, feel guilty that I find it so hard to speak out loud. It’s nothing and something and it’s bleh. Staying in bed.