And so it goes on...

I am not coping well. On the surface all seems fine, although if anyone were to look, the surface is gossamer thin. It is hard to take care of myself, of anything. I have neither the energy nor the will. It is three nights since I slept in my bedroom. The sofa is better. Even there I cannot sleep for more than an hour or two at the most.

When I am alone in the dark and the silence I can hear myself thinking. Its like listening to a voice- over or a story teller, describing what ever passes through my mind, what ever I might be doing. That is what it is always like, as though I were making myself up as I go alone. Just sometimes it gets so loud, so overpowering that I become more and more distressed. And I cannot sleep. If I stay downstairs I can leave the television on. It doesn't stop the soundtrack but it does dampen it, allowing me to at least relax a little.

Yesterday was a particularly difficult day. I had my first session with a new counselor in the morning and it left me shaking and upset. She suggested I stay until I felt better, have a coffee a cigarette. I made the coffee but couldn't drink it I felt so sick. All I wanted was to come home. It seemed to take hours to regain control, to shove the genie back into its bottle. Looking back from today its a little like a dream and hard to understand why I responded the way I did. The way I felt did frighten me, though, at the time. I tried to get my appointment at the mental health clinic brought forward, the middle of September seemed so far away. It wasn't possible. They said they were too busy to see me.