You find me at home, away from work, away from people and reeling from yesterday. I suspected my return to work last week was premature but I didn't expect to be bitten so hard yesterday. Waking at 6 am I spent the next three hours terrified in my bed, strangled by fear and overwhelmed by the world. All because of a tiny insignificant thing that any number of friends can help me with.
By pure coincidence I was speaking to my consultant yesterday morning. He's not really witnessed the depth of my despair as mainly I have done well since he came on board. He quickly told me that I had reduced my medication too soon and advised me to increase the dose and take some time away.
Still full of fear and a desire to hide under the duvet I managed to contact my manager and let her know I wouldn't be in for a week. A huge setback for me, the fight that I display so often has deserted me and left me a sense of desolate failure.
Later in the day I tentatively let my world know I'm struggling and as ever they came for me, put their hands up in support and each said to contact them when I can. In truth I don't like talking to people when I'm not good.
A day on I slept better, my anxiety has abated somewhat and I am less tired. The emptiness hovers over me but I'm holding my own. The increased dose has helped and I've not completely been blown away thus far.
I did make it out to the Farm Shop at Tewinbury and bought some lovely ingredients. I'm determined to keep cooking. Last night I pan fried chicken strips in gram flour, cumin, oregano and pimenton on a bed of salad with pomegranate seeds and flatbread. Tonight there will be braised neck of lamb with black pepper and turmeric. If I stop cooking I know I'm in trouble.
But I am not at that point. Each day I will fight back a little harder, inch towards salvation and resurrection. One day I will right the ship.
Take care out there.
I Heard a Voice.
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