I forgot to mention yesterday that my assessment with the psychotherapist went fairly well. I saw her first thing in the morning and we spent an hour talking about my life, the reasons for my anxiety and depression, and how these things are currently holding me back. I hadn’t expected to get any actual ‘therapy’ yesterday as the first session is always for setting the scene. I just wanted to know that I’d be put on a list for regular therapy, and by the end of the hour the doctor had assured me that I would be able to get a course, though I’ll probably have to be on a waiting list for a few months, and I’ll only get twelve weeks maximum with them. I wasn’t surprised by this news. Mental health treatment is, unfortunately, very under-funded on the National Health Service. If I wanted to see a therapist on a regular basis for years, I’d have to pay a lot of money for the privilege. At least I can get twelve weeks of constructive cognitive behavioural therapy for free. I might have to wait until next year but I’m not complaining. In the mean time, I shall have to use the skills I’ve got to be my own therapist.
Last week I was praying to my higher power to give me the strength to start getting up in the mornings again. Until this week I was staying in bed until early afternoon on pretty much a daily basis, not because I really wanted to but because I was so tired all the time. So far this week I’ve managed to get up before 9am every day except today – my prayers have, somehow, been answered. It really renewed my faith in my higher power because I was pretty desperate to get back into that morning routine. Having got up at a reasonable morning hour I can get so much more done in the day. Every night I write a list of plans for the next day, and this week I’ve managed to complete all those necessary tasks that I wasn’t getting done before. Today I was unfortunately in bed until 1pm again – but it’s only Saturday, so I’m not scolding myself too much.