I want to start
by saying that I’ve just had a fab weekend.
Yup, really!
Friday my
son and I met up with some friends and went to Margate. Initially it was supposed to be a visit to
the Turner Gallery for an exhibition and a wander round before heading off to
the beach for a laze, look at the sea and meet up with some other friends of
ours that live there. On a bit of a reconnaissance
check a couple of days before, I’d discovered that, although the exhibition we
wanted to see was open, the rest of the gallery was shut. ‘Fine’ my friend
said, ‘let’s still go’, so we did.
We get
there; the weather is great, not too hot, and not too cold. We walked to the gallery and, although the
exhibition was on, it wasn’t functioning (it was supposed to be cymbals, which
you could ‘play’) as there was a conference going on and they didn’t want the sound
to interfere. Hrumph!! This isn’t
good. So I decide to find out about the
Shell Grotto as haven’t been since The Boy was small; it’s open, we go, its
fab! Then back to the beach, later than
anticipated, to meet up, briefly, with said local friends. What could have been
a disastrous day turned out quite good. Phew!
Then
Saturday I went off on my ownsie to Comic Con at Excel Centre, London! Was so nice not to have to worry about anyone
else’s stresses, anxieties, wants and not wants; I left home when I was ready,
I did what I wanted to do, attended whatever talks I fancied and I came home
when I was ready. Lovely!
Sunday; I
pretty much slept all day and caught up with telly in between snoozes.
Monday I
should have woken up refreshed, but noooooooo!!
I’d had trouble getting to sleep Sunday night (fair enough as I’d slept
off and on for most of the day) and I woke up at 6am! Wide awake, but not really with it; mentally
gone, but physically hyper active; so spent all day pottering about cleaning,
washing, hanging said washing out to dry, dusting, sorting and catching up with
the odd prog I didn’t manage to watch the day before. Went to bed at a reasonable hour, for me, and
slept well.
Expected to
wake up feeling gooooooood; I didn’t!
Today I am still tired, but I’m not only mentally tired, I’m physically
tired too; I could quite happily have the day at home doing a bit more tidying
up, having a lovely soak in the bath and generally taking it easy. I can’t!
It’s private trampolining for The Boy today and, because we are already
out, it’ll be a trip to the library to return a book, Subway for late lunch,
passport photos for me as I’m running out of time to get an ID card for Glasto
and another trip into the bank to take money from The Boy’s book account to pay
directly into my credit card as his telly blew yesterday.
Now I know
that isn’t a lot, I know that, actually, that’s a pretty easy day, but I’m
getting sick of it all. I’m fed up with
organising anything and everything, I’m totally stressing about money, I was
stressed all yesterday in case he ‘blew’ his new telly because of some miss-wiring
in his computer (he built it and so far all is well) and, because I’m stressed,
my brain keeps returning to the dreaded renewal of DLA which still hasn’t
dropped through my door yet! Aaargh! I’m beginning to feel like those kids at
school that, by the middle of July, are just desperate for the term to end and
the summer holidays to begin. I want it all to stop!
I’m wondering
if I’m depressed again; symptoms like being tired, erratic sleeping, feeling
brain dead, not wanting to face things, etc are here again. But, I do want to go out, even if it is
mainly by myself. I do want to get dressed and take care of myself so I don’t
think I’m depressed. I’m just
anxious. I’m just stressed. Hence the title of this blog; Anxiety vs
Depression: What’s the Difference? I
must look into it!
Cya
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