I wrote an email on Tuesday evening to my CPN (community psychiatric nurse).
Wednesday (yesterday) I didn't press send. I found the email address that my CPN used in an email almost exactly 2 years ago (during Freshers week, it arrived when I was in A&E after security whisked me there at 8am one morning). Last night I got it ready to send this morning.
This morning, I ummed and erred, and eventually pressed send at 9.30am. Then I played one piece on the piano, then looked back to find an email. A "failure to send" email.
My heart sank. All this angst, all this time spent looking for some support from the team and deciding that emailing her was the answer. Then I was stopped, all because she has changed her email address.
It feels like my relationship with them has changed in an instant. I always knew I *could* email my CPN as a way of contacting them, except it turns out I can't. She's changed her email address. Without them even being aware I'm not just being my normal busy bee, I feel like I've been left without them. To do it alone.
I've realised I can't send it another way or to make contact via the 'phone. That was THE way I was going to tell them that so now I can't tell them. I next see my CPN in 11 days. Hopefully stuff will be better then.
I've changed my view. This morning I was trying to grab onto the mental health team, make them make me feel more human. Now, I'm going to make me feel more human. I'm not able to get the help from them, so I've got to do it.
In the way that always happens, the bible readings this evening were very apt. Was about time being wearisome but God being there forever. Right now, time IS wearisome (today's odd place to fall asleep: on to a past paper I was meant to be doing) but I haven't completely self-destructed, indicating God is probably here.
I'll be OK. It is odd, but though it feels at times like I'm slowly having a breakdown, it feels vaguely OK. I might feel like hiding, I might feel like never leaving the house again, I might feel like resigning from my jobs to be able to destruct without causing people lots of hassle, I might feel like leaping off something at times, but I'm pretty certain I won't.
This evening, though everything is crap right now, it feels like some positivity is inside. A tiny weeny little spark of hope. That I'll get back to being OK. Instead of just trying to cope but being unable to, I hope to get back to being OK.
'Tis odd. Yesterday, I seriously thought by now I would be under the crisis team (even though my email specifically was saying not to) or having been threatened with hospital (ditto). None of that has happened. I've done a past paper, I've taught, I've sang, I've directed a choir, I've recorded a rehearsal track for another choir I help to run, I've chosen hymns for October. I've not had any contact with them.
Stuff happens for a reason. Maybe this change of plan is to make me realise that I can't just go crawling to the MH team if stuff gets hard. I need to learn how to live without too much help, especially as I don't want to go back to evil CMHT once I've run out of time with crap-but-not-evil specialist team.
I'm doing this alone. Tomorrow, my brother has asked to come to church for a chance to play the organ (I fear we will subject the local area to tacky jazz...) so I'll get out during the day. Then I'll go to do youth choir in the evening. I'm needing to be proactive, so I will. Any days I haven't got out-of-house activities planned, I'll go down to church and do some practising. I may end up taking myself off the medication for my joints as the tiredness is ridiculous (we will see how the weekend goes, but if I'm still this tired, I'm going to try without them).
I'll be OK. Hopefully my head will quieten, my brain will function, and I'll be OK. Oh, and I'll stop spamming my tweet stream with melodramatic "I'm crashiiiing #urgh #uurgh #uuuurgh" messages.
Thanks for the support and kindness that you peeps of the internet have shown me, I appreciate it. Really appreciate it.
Something has shifted today, for the better. Not how it was planned to be at 8 this morning, but the day has been and gone. Tomorrow will come and go. And the next day, and the next. We'll be OK. We will. Be. OK. Uhuh. Yep-di-doodles.
[To the student who told me he had had an "EPIC maths FAIL week", you haven't. Promise. You can do it. Like I can. Epic fail is probably a good way of describing it (in that lingo) but epic fail is subjective. And subjectiveness changes. So let's hope my next week is less "epic fail", more "vaguely OK" as well as his.]