Exploring Mt. Everest in slippers.

I'm going to branch out a bit today, and talk instead about how being Depressed makes  getting the qualified help I need really hard. At the moment (well, always, but right now it's worse than usual), getting to and from appointments takes up a tremendous amount of energy. I currently have three providers. My usual GP and two psychologists - as I transition from the amazing woman I was referred to after discovery of an undiagnosed stroke, to long-term support aimed at helping me work with the PTSD. Both psychologists have offices near train stations, which is wonderful, because I live just around a corner from one too. Trouble is, trains aren't free. So I have to budget for train travel additional to what I already allow to get to the supermarket, and it can only come from my food budget.  My doctor is only a couple of kilometers away, not too much more than a mile, and there's no direct public transport between me and them, so I walk it, adding about half an hour each...

When times are really tough, and I'm having a *'tar day', just getting out of bed is an achievement. More frequent, are the 'low' days. These are days when I can tick a task or two off the to-do list. It could be a single 'big' thing, like changing the sheets (tough in a tiny mezzanine space), or a couple of smaller things, such as taking a shower, or doing the dishes. *'tar day' = the sensation of being stuck in invisible tar, making movement incredibly difficult and tiring. Every so often I'll have a day where I've booked something important and no matter the level of 'tar' or how low the low, I'll do my damnedest to get there. Rarely are the days so bad I have to re-schedule, but it's always a re- schedule, never a cancellation - and what is this important  thing you ask? It's doing something GOOD . It's going to the closest NZ Blood site, and donating plasma. I don't know how other countries do it, but here, th...

It's been over a year, and there's been a lot of changes, yet, nothing much has changed. What hasn't changed: I still live alone, in a teeny unit. I still haven't had contact with my children. I'm still not working.  I'm still struggling to eat healthily, and I still feel like I'm treading water. What has changed: I have a regular counselor. I've discovered that I had an undiagnosed stroke sometime between 17 and 12 years ago, leaving enough dead brain tissue to be picked up in a CT scan. I'm re-learning how to be a better friend, and I have a more specific mental health diagnosis. The most impactful thing has been the knowledge of a stroke, and the resultant psychological consultations. This has led to PTSD being recognized as the umbrella under which my Depression and OCD have thrived, and changes to my medication as a result.   Regular counseling, from the same psychologist, is much better than getting a short 3 or 4 session burst from a different...