I called the psychology department, M has no more appointments, and is on holiday next week. She is kindly checking to see if she has anything sooner than my next scheduled appointment, which is on 17th June.
God, why do I feel so stupid about this? My memory is shot to shit. Maybe I should send myself a text message on my phone to remind me.
In Truman Capote’s “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” (1958), Holly Golightly tells Paul Varjak about the Mean Reds.
Holly – “Listen…you know those days when you get the mean reds?”
Paul – “The mean reds? You mean like the blues?”
Holly – “No… The blues are because you’re getting fat or because it’s been raining too long. You’re just sad, that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?”
I think going in and out of anxiety disorder is like that. I wonder if it would feel worse to be in a place where most days you feel normal, then every now and again, get the Mean Reds.
My life is mostly a soft pink, every now and again turning into a vibrant russet. Or, if you are into HTML, usually #FF6666 turning into #FF0000 (and yes, I looked them up – I’m not that sad!)
Damn – I quoted Truman Capote, and now I have “Moon River” going through my head…
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’m beginning to feel like #FF3333 (ie a deeper pink) all the time. After Saturday’s escapade, I have discovered that I feel more agoraphobic. This morning, Ginger said he wanted to call at the store to get some juice and other bits and bobs, and I said I would go with him. It’s starting off the same way as Saturday…
I was okay in the car, rattling on about nothing in particular, with Ginger being his usual monosyllabic self (he always is after nightshit) but when we got to the car park, and stopped, I felt sick to the pit of my stomach. It felt like I was walking into the dentists. I told Ginger – I need him to be aware of how I feel – and he gave me the usual “you’ll be okay, I’m here”. I had tremendous feelings of disassociation whilst in the store. I hated every second of being in there, even though it was relatively quiet. We bought what we needed and left.
Yet again, I feel tired out. It is emotionally draining, yet I feel the need to carry on. If I stop going out, even if it feels horrible, I’ll become completely agoraphobic. That scares me more than anything.
As I’m sitting here writing this, it has suddenly occured to me that I should have been to see my therapist this morning. Fuck. I’ll call and see if I can get a cancellation…