Not ideal…

My antidepressants ran out at the beginning of last week. At least I think it was then. I completely lost track of time. I think it was at least five days without them. At the end of last week I kept waking up around four am. As ever I still lie there overthinking in bed til god knows what time. I was getting four hours sleep at best. I had assumed it was my Princeling waking me up, but after a few days my mood spiralled dramatically. I’ve not felt so bad in at least a couple of years. The last time was a few months after I started the antidepressants. My doctor doubled them straight away. I was ok for a week or so but then the change in dose made it ten times worse. Dark and dangerous thoughts abounded.

It’s Wednesday today. On Monday, my thoughts turned so dark. I would say scarily so, but I’d be lying. It reminded me of when my doctor thought I was going to have a heart attack. I didn’t care one bit if I dropped dead at the time. That was only a few months after My Lady died though.

It was different on Monday. I had really intrusive thoughts all day. Then after lunchtime I realised how long it had been since I had taken my meds. It all made sense then. The meds my doctor prescribed were chosen to help me sleep and to increase my appetite. Back then I had lost so much weight, everyone was really concerned. I dropped to way under eight stone.

I’ve been on these meds for over four years now. My body and mind freaked out when I stopped taking them. Monday afternoon I was in full fight or flight mode for hours. It was all I could do not to freak out at work. When I finished, I made a bee line to my pharmacy. It was like having a full blown panic attack that lasted for hours. It was exhausting and on top of the lack of sleep I was not well by then.

When I got home, I took a tablet and washed it down with a cider I had in the fridge. Yeah, I know, clever boy huh? Within an hour I crashed badly. In bed by eight and I must have been asleep in less than twenty minutes. Next thing I knew it was five minutes before my alarm went off. I had slept like the dead. It would take me at least three nights like that to recover but the panic feeling had gone for the moment which I was grateful for.

The day at work was bearable, if somewhat stressful. By the time I was home, all I wanted to do was sit in silence and be on my own. I really didn’t want to interact with anyone at all. Then my Princeling came crashing down the stairs, flew into the kitchen and started banging and crashing about. I couldn’t bear it. I told him this and all he had to say was “ you can’t tell me what to do, I’ll go as fast as I like”. Honestly I wanted to punch his lights out. Insensitive dick. I refrained from responding to the pathetic teenager comment he threw at me as I knew damn well that if I didn’t, I would go completely nuclear at him. I was even sure that I wouldn’t hit him. Shortly after that, I went to bed. Again I was out not long after taking my meds and woke with my alarm.

Today started ok I guess. Last nights vibe was still lingering though. I tried not to think about it too much and cracked on with my work. As the day progressed however, I felt the darkness closing in around me again. It didn’t help that I was being given job after job and they were changing the priorities repeatedly. Normally, at worst I would jokingly groan and crack on. In my state of mind today though, I really couldn’t process it all. I came real close to being a dick to the assistant manager when he walked over with another job. I had a little fit but he understands my mental health more than most there and has usually been very empathetic to it. I apologised immediately and told him about my situation. He said “It’s ok mate, don’t worry”. He can be annoying at times, same as anyone, but he has always been great when I’m having mental health issues.

So I’m sat outside McDonald’s bashing out this drivel again. Yet again I don’t want to go home. If I had some proper friends local enough I’d just ask if I could crash there tonight so I can have a break from my shitty home life.

Interesting. As I type that, I realise that I have no one here on that level. No one. I also realise that staying at a friend’s place for the night would be just what I need sometimes. I hate my home life. Especially at times like this. I’m sick of being treated like shit and being expected to provide for someone who held me hostage in my own bedroom for a whole day. I was told by the mental hospital where he was admitted last year that I should call the police if I felt threatened by him. His mental health team, the police and even my GP all said the same. As you can imagine, having to live with someone like that is not pleasant to ridiculously understate it.

Ugh. And predictably he just tried to call me. I cancelled the call within seconds and my phone is now in flight mode. No doubt he will want something from me under the pretense of wondering why I’m not home yet. See what I mean? I can’t escape. I’m so fucking done right now.

I don’t want to talk to anyone. What am I supposed to do though? I can’t sit here all night. Mr C needs feeding soon. I just want to go home and go to bed. No talking, no interaction, nothing. I’m sick of having to explain myself.

Whatever, we don’t always get what we want do we? Soon though. Soon, I will do exactly that. I’ve been pontificating about moving on for years now. Time to start actually planning stuff.

Fuck them all…