I feel better.
Not great. I'm not in a position where I can claim I'm 100%. I'm still grieving for Dad. I'm still super stressed at work. I haven't written or painted anything for ages. I don't feel great.
- I've spent the last few days working on a long term strategy for my department
- I've been hiking by myself and walked through fields of cows
- I've cried - properly cried, not uncontrollable hysteria - for my loss
- I've spent time with family
- I've been sleeping well
- I've rested.
That last one? That's the important one.
I saw a GP not long after my last but one post and I told him how I never felt like I could rest. When I wake up I'm exactly where I was when I went to sleep. I slept well, but it wasn't working. He gave me happy pills with a tiny side order of diazepam.
I took a diazepam that night and I remember waking the next day and knowing everything that had happened. As I thought through the things, I felt the burden of taking each of them back on. I had put them down overnight.
It wasn't much, but it was enough. It made the next few days (week) easier. Then I had a panic attack and took another diazepam. It got even better. The happy pills apparently haven't even kicked in yet, according to my latest GP visit, but the temporary aid from the diazepam is such a relief.
I've taken three in total and I'm functioning like a normal human being.
I'm looking forward to the day when I am functioning at my peak. And then I'll hopefully be able to quit them and be awesome without the aid of drugs. Right now I'm happy to be this.