the black dog

It’s never much fun when that old black dog comes for a visit. It’s hard to work through and even harder to talk about.

I should have done something when I saw it creeping up on me but as per normal, I buried my head in the sand hoping to work through it. Perhaps if had followed my doctor’s advice, I would not find myself in this little hole. She was hesitant when I suggested I decrease my happy pills dose but agreed to let me give it a go. Bad, bad move on my part when I dropped the dose further still without telling her.

I have had some serious conversations in my head around what set me off this time and I have increased my dose back to what the doctor told me it should be. Why did it happen … the details are not relevant but mix together my obsessive-compulsive tendency and inability to control certain aspects of my life, and the result is a meltdown. Teary, red-eyed, runny nosed meltdown.

It would be okay if it was a five minute wonder, but unfortunately these meltdowns take longer than five minutes to run their course. But I have had two tear-free days in a row which is positive. A very good friend of mine told me that crying is a good thing, cos it means you are losing water and therefore it is a good weight loss exercise.

So I hit the proverbial rock bottom and am looking upwards. It will mean some open and honest conversations over the next week which won’t be easy but will need to happen. 


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