Bollockybollockybollocky HTT

[EnpoTree]

Basically I have to take bloody diazepam three times a day and be visited by HTT every day and even then the nurse reckons it's 50/50 if I'll need to go into hospital or not. This has gone too far. I'm absobloodylutely sodding fine and visited the drop-in as I was worried I was going to become not-fine and wanted to know how to stop DP worrying unnecessarily after having spoken to CMHT as I was referred from GP as I wanted to avoid becoming depressed and how to maintain my current good humour and general sparkling and effervescent nature. The lesson apparently being that being responsible and proactive with your mental health gets you accused of poor insight and told to take drugs on pain of hospital admission.

She's really fucking scared me. I will not go into hospital. So to avoid it I have to swallow pills that make me slow and stupid and sleepy even though I am totally happy with the way I am now and it's everyone else who doesn't like it. Maybe its everyone else who needs bloody medicating.

I hate this so much. I know its a bad idea to get involved in MH services. So why do I ever go back?

Ok, I'll let you off that one then

I have a lot of shoes so am in no position to criticise anyone else.

I was very very low on shoes and needed some more sont was totally justifiable. The shoes I already had were a pair of trainers for exercising in, a pair of black leather Clarks shoes which were very uncomfortable, some boots in the wrong size for gardening, and a pair of Vans hi-tops. The shoes I bought were an admittedly eye-wateringly expensive pair of running shoes, black canvas dunlop lo tops, burgundy canvas dunlop lo tops, blue canvas dunlop lo tops, pink canvas Donnay hi tops, yellow canvas rocketdog hi tops, and a pair of DM 1460 boots. And a couple of pairs of Birkenstock sandals whih I sent back because none of them fitted. And I wear all of them so they're not some kind of useless purchase.

TBH the more you and Mitch talk together the more I realise I'm not really like you at all… I would push a button to be normal in an instant.

And I hate spending money. Last Christmas I tried to buy myself some trainers (as I really did need new shoes) and spent three hours in a Nike outlet trying on shoes before deciding I really couldn't justify £30 on trainers. So luxury cars and credit card debt are just a completely alien world to me.

And now I've got George Michael stuck in my head. Great.

George Michael? Bad luck!

I should really get out of bed before DP comes home. I think I've gone past hangover and into self-indulgence.

No, stay and try to lure her in with you.

I like your thinking....

I have to go and mill some flax for dinner.

That sounds very wholesome and worthy. We're having leftovers from last night.

I fucked it up - DP's doing it now

Beef sandal.

Beef Crocs!

It could very well be like a sandal or a croc but I'm fucked if I'm wasting beef fillet.

I really just meant like a cut-down Wellington…

Crocs? Wellingtons?

Never mind.

I can't decide if reheating it would be a good or bad idea.

I get it

I'd rather be having beef fillet than flaxseed tortillas

How rare is it?

I don't know, flaxseed tortillas sound intriguing.

If it's already well-done it might go a bit dry if you reheat it.

It's quite rare so I'm worried about turning it into brown beef, one of least favourite things.

They're… food.

Oh god cold rare beef. With horseradish. Or maybe pickles. And a load of crusty white bread and unsalted butter.