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Sundae · 04-15-2009, 01:36 PM

I believe it's "I'm not surprised, the way you act" as a response to any tale of woe or injustice.

Today I am upset at the prospect of having no support when I leave Cornerstone (the day care centre I am at). I suppose I'll find out what, if anything, is available at my Care Plan Assessment meeting on Friday. But Friday is also the day I am discharged. I'm worrying myself into a state at the idea I'll go from a daily supportive environment from 10.00-15.00 to a fortnightly visit from a busy psychiatric nurse, who I'll get at best for an hour - not long enough to even update her on my mood.

I'll also miss having a dedicated care worker looking out for me - contacting my GP practice, telling them to prescribe things (if I don't know they exist, how can I ask for them?). Getting my interim meetings re alcohol. Making sure I get to see the psychiatrist on site. And all the rest.

I'm going to have another go at volunteering. Probably gardening this time. In fact the building behind Cornerstone is asking for gardening volunteers so at least I'll be on the same premises.

And of course Oasis (nee Addiction Counselling Trust) have two groups I can attend, so that fills up some time. I see my case worker there tomorrow at 09.00, so I can discuss my fears with her. And get acupuncture, and have more beads put in - my ear I mean, temporary things for stress.

Sigh. It's just a long road until I get to psychotherapy. Best estimate three months. But I can't really move on until I start dealing with the underlying issues I have, or I will be back worse than where I started before I know it. As it was I spent three hours crying this evening after I came home. The realisation of what was coming (following a group called "Preparing for Discharge"), a silly thing where my brownies got overcooked in baking, and the an accusation from my Dad, via my Mum, that I had "stolen" her debit card and used it behind her back. Untrue of course, but it brought it all flooding out.

Still a bit weepy now.
Time for a cup of tea perhaps.

Actually my breasts are really sore and heavy. Perhaps I'm prone to hormonal shifts after all.

04-15-2009, 01:36 PM	#3678
Sundae polaroid of perfection Join Date: Sep 2005 Location: West Yorkshire Posts: 24,185	I believe it's "I'm not surprised, the way you act" as a response to any tale of woe or injustice. Today I am upset at the prospect of having no support when I leave Cornerstone (the day care centre I am at). I suppose I'll find out what, if anything, is available at my Care Plan Assessment meeting on Friday. But Friday is also the day I am discharged. I'm worrying myself into a state at the idea I'll go from a daily supportive environment from 10.00-15.00 to a fortnightly visit from a busy psychiatric nurse, who I'll get at best for an hour - not long enough to even update her on my mood. I'll also miss having a dedicated care worker looking out for me - contacting my GP practice, telling them to prescribe things (if I don't know they exist, how can I ask for them?). Getting my interim meetings re alcohol. Making sure I get to see the psychiatrist on site. And all the rest. I'm going to have another go at volunteering. Probably gardening this time. In fact the building behind Cornerstone is asking for gardening volunteers so at least I'll be on the same premises. And of course Oasis (nee Addiction Counselling Trust) have two groups I can attend, so that fills up some time. I see my case worker there tomorrow at 09.00, so I can discuss my fears with her. And get acupuncture, and have more beads put in - my ear I mean, temporary things for stress. Sigh. It's just a long road until I get to psychotherapy. Best estimate three months. But I can't really move on until I start dealing with the underlying issues I have, or I will be back worse than where I started before I know it. As it was I spent three hours crying this evening after I came home. The realisation of what was coming (following a group called "Preparing for Discharge"), a silly thing where my brownies got overcooked in baking, and the an accusation from my Dad, via my Mum, that I had "stolen" her debit card and used it behind her back. Untrue of course, but it brought it all flooding out. Still a bit weepy now. Time for a cup of tea perhaps. Actually my breasts are really sore and heavy. Perhaps I'm prone to hormonal shifts after all. __________________ Life's hard you know, so strike a pose on a Cadillac