Today marks the end of my first week at home, officially recovered enough to leave the hospital.
It’s been a challenging week and again I am finding the simplest tasks are beyond me. Housework overwhelms me and trying to fill in the seemingly endless pile of forms I’ve been putting off until I feel up to it has me in tears.
My children have returned to school so the days have some structure and routine but during the time they are away I have nothing to do other than attend appointments with health professionals. The truth is I don’t feel up to doing anything anyway.
People keep telling me I need to find things to do but with no motivation it’s very difficult. I still hanker for all the things I used to do and I miss my job. I know that it is too soon to go back to work- I still struggle to go to a supermarket but my job was such a large part of my identity I feel lost without it. I can’t think of anything I want to do other than the rather vague plea of “get my life back”.
I attended my CBT appointment this morning to be told that I am too depressed or getting too depressed for CBT to be effective and I should seek an appointment with my psychiatrist to discuss what to do next. This invariably means more medication; the current pile is enough to induce a bout of weeping when I pick them up. The side effects from my medication continue to affect me and I can’t decide which I hate more- the weight gain or the tremor. I know I could take more medication to counteract the tremor but it has its own side effects so it’s no easy decision.
On the upside, I have a letter from DVLA telling me I can drive, so I have a little of my independence back. I used my car yesterday to drive to the home of an acquaintance who revealed over coffee that they had been through a similar experience to me some years ago. It is so good to know that I’m not alone and that others have been there, done that and come out the other side.
I’m hoping to come out the other side sometime soon, and I hope to stay there.