rebooted. . .

. . .kinda

I feel very odd actually, everything is quite vague and I'm not really sure about things I feel I ought to know. . .

like:

how my laptop works,

why I seem to be unable to talk to anyone here,

what my problem with attending
"group therapy sessions" is,

why I want a bath and not a shower,

why I was so extraordinarily hungry this morning
and had a three-course breakfast,

why there is a jar of peanut butter
propping my window open,

what will happen when I go "home",

will I ever have sex again,

what am I going to do with myself in September
and thereafter
(if I make it thru the summer, that is)
(which I probably will,
now I'm in the care of The Good Doctor)
when Smallest Person goes to secondary school,
.

when will the neurofen I took for
my splitting headache
take effect. . .

.
anyhow, enough of my trivia!

I think I need to have a little nap and let my neurons settle down; everything is feeling slightly frazzled and bleary

.
I'll catch you later
.

:-)

okay, so I've been hummin' The Pet Shop Boys all afternoon
.

"what have I, what have I,
what have I done to deserve this. . ."

and then segueing into songs from my favourite album of theirs, the one they did with that woman who was in Caberet. . .

you know, her. . .

"if this is a prison,
I'm in it with you. . ."

you know exactly who I mean, sure you do. . .

I'm here because I overdosed

(on purpose)

three times
.

more each time, as the first two occasions just left me with a headache and a shortage of the medication I'm on for "depression" and "not sleeping"; eventually I phoned the quack and fibbed and said that I'd mislaid my meds in the move and could I have some more please

.
and took the lot

.
XCH came over and found me (am not quite sure why) and took me round to his, where I woke - slightly confused - in the middle of the night - I really hadn't expected to be awake that third time, you see, I knew that much - and then found his very sharpest Sabbatier and the sharpener and ran a bath and then sat in it slicing my wrist up

I passed out eventually

I don't really remember the rest, other than the fact The Good Doctor had already suggested ECT as the treatment for depression when others (talking and tablets) have failed
.

so here I am
.

having some
.

ECT

.
I'm not proud of myself, I mean my children need me right? and in a slightly better state than this, probably; and might do, for some years to come; but quite clearly something was not right, so I guess something needs fixin'

TGD had mentioned ECT to me quite a while ago, but as a layperson it sounds a little scary, doesn't it

I mean, all most of us know about ECT is from watching OFOtC'sN, right?
.

. . .which is a little like saying all most of us know about looking after a hotel over winter is from watching The Shining!
.
. . .and all we really know about The Devil is from watching The Witches of Eastwick!

.
. . .and all we know about OCD is from watching As Good As It Gets!

the media has a lot to answer for, doesn't it?

(and yee g*ds, I lurve that man!)

so, stick with me people and I'll tell you all about it

that's a promise. . .

it might not be pretty, it might not be as tuneful as you've come to expect from yours truly - but it will be honest and accurate and if it works, I will share my happiness with you!

for starters, I'll tell you this - just before you pass out under the general anaesthetic, they tuck the blanket back from your feet. . .

why? I asked my lovely resus nurse

because, says he, for it is a he, they need to know when they've got the current right and the first things to start fitting are your toes. . .