‘No., really Black.’
‘Yeah? But, Blacker than that..’
Is how I wished I’d answered a question today.
I don’t think I answered well, I never can when it comes to describing depression.
‘When’s the last time you were happy?’
‘Dunno.’ is the easiest I guess.
I can’t always adapt quickly enough to answer verbally.
A lot of long and maybe lousy answers.
I got to say what I needed to. I addressed my 2017 issues.
I maybe set the story backwards. I maybe jumped from point to point.
I maybe didn’t have it ever framed in that verbal context.
I’ve left my hair and my beard for today.
I looked similar at my PIP medical. (The one where my lying Scottish NHS nurse practitioner said I was well kempt.)
Did I get over what I needed – HELP.
My cue cards said
We talked medications, depression and length and extent. I think I was asked can I remember a time without it.
I cued myself on ‘The Blues’ and my ear plugs.
I explained needing to keep going and keeping doing and my fear of stopping.
I couldn’t explain depression and the lows.
I fumbled at ‘friends’, I fumbled at a few issues and questions and about everything going on.
I maybe got to where I was and how I was and my fears and my concerns and what I needed.
I don’t know if they can actually help me. Nice people but, what can they access for me.
I can’t face CBT. It won’t help. I do know that the need to communicate. The phone a friend bit, the build up the communication and contact part. The re-establish ties and do the basics in talking again and going for a walk, going for a coffee.
Now, that’s it in a nutshell.
Cognitive. Yeah, that I can do. Thinking is my thing. I’m an intelligent failure. I can see through that path of treatment.
I need more like Counselling or something with a structure.
I sighed today. At times I wish I was stupider and more social. That I had the real friends.
So, I’ll see what is decided that I need. I might be an expert on me and my condition, but I’m not medically qualified to make the decisions.