I’ve booked another appointment to see my GP about getting help for my…well, at the moment I’d definitely call it depression. It’s not just being “a bit down” or “quite sad” – I’ve been both of those before, but this is nothing like that.
This swings wildly from, as I described it last night, just not giving a damn about stuff, to this morning, where I felt crushed and trapped and angry. It’s horrible and it’s scary.
The only thing that seems to help at all is imagining Trev being there alongside me, dispensing a little bit of calm wisdom (or sarcasm) – and even he couldn’t very much help this morning as a deeply unhelpful voice in my head insisted on pointing out that “He’s dead. He can’t help you.”
The doctor’s appointment is in two weeks. Hopefully I won’t get fobbed off with the telephone number for a bereavement charity, like I did last time.