Well, hurrah for me.
I've managed to get a new job- as a manager nonetheless - and will be escaping the mayhem at work (for some fresh mayhem elsewhere) in a little less than two weeks time. About time too - if I had to put up with certain elements of my "team" much longer I would probably commit murder with a fibreglass cow (-it makes sense if you actually visit my workplace: there's a remnant from the
cow parade lurking in the hall. It occasionally gets used when service users need to dry their sleeping bags. Poor cow.)
So it's perfect timing that I seem too have been hit with a super-effective dose of anxiety/depression: just as things are going well, my brain chemistry shoots me in the foot and goes, "Hah! Thought you could escape me by actually being successful? Never! Never I say- you are doomed to mood swings and self-loathing and all because I, Dodgy Brain Chemistry, say so! Back to your corner, you worthless worm..."
I'm trying to build myself up to go and see a doctor. It does take a great deal of effort to do this: most of the doctors at my local practice are.... are....Well, one of them has five pictures on her wall of Jesus and his Disciples drawn by her son. She speaks to me as though I were an abomination (which, in the eyes of
her God, I suppose I am...) and worse: as though I were twelve years old. And not a bright twelve year old, either. Most of the others are similarly enlightened and welcome an obese lesbian as fulsomely as they welcome genital warts.
So, anyhow, I need to gird my loins (or something) and choose my doctor carefully in order to get some help. Oh, lucky me.
(Actually yes, lucky me: I have a new job, a supportive partner- even new sofas coming in November. I just happen to have a propensity toward depression and anxiety- and a terrible sense of timing. Ah well...)
