"I get knocked down, but I get up again"

I don’t know if it’s stress, depression, anxiety, suicidal ideas/daydreams – or all combined – or none of it and I’m just getting dementia earlier on in my life – but I’m losing my mind, guys. I’m losing it.

I’ve caught the wrong bus and ended up in Aussie wilderness (we call it “whoop whoop”) about 7 times in the last 4 months. Bus drivers have all been nice – praise God. I dread to think what would have become of me if they weren’t – we’ve been on a bus in the middle of nowhere together and he has the keys so could easily lock me in…and do God knows what to me. I thank God that nothing has happened apart from a bemused driver asking “Ma’am? Are you lost?” and I tearfully answer “yes” and they drive me to the nearest train or bus station and I gratefully get off.

7 times is 7 too many to feel so bloody lost. I hate this.

I look at the bus when it pulls up to the bus stop, you know. I see the right number “999” or “935” – both go to main train stations. I then (usually) get off the bus, onto the train. I catch the train to Meltham, get off that station, cross the road and over the hill to home base.

So why have I ended up in a field from the “37” or the “250” bus several times now? I don’t understand it. I saw the right number on the front of the bus. Satisfied, I got on.

Either there’s a weird bus conspiracy going on where they change their numbers and journeys to confuse me – or I’m losing my mind. I bet you it’s the latter.

I’m also getting notifications on email that people have responded to my comments on YouTube so I click on them – and there it is – a comment from me that I have absolutely NO IDEA about. But I recognise myself in the writing, the phrases used, the little kisses at the end of a message I always leave to ease any offence I might have accidentally caused – it’s my comment – and someone responding to it…but I don’t remember writing that comment.

I’m not getting a lot of sleep, then I’m working 9 hours. Then I’m pushing myself to see friends or at least talk them on the phone…for however long they need and in Aurelie’s case, it could be hours, bless her heart.

But then I don’t remember any conversations with my friends.

Or any plans for brunch/meeting up so I get these calls from irate friends “Where are you?” when I’m at home in my pjs, selecting a Netflix show unaware that I should have been out.

I’m really scared. I don’t like this.

I have an over-the-phone pysch appointment tomorrow at 1pm so I’ll run this by my psych “Ellie”. I hope she’ll come up with something to help.

I love that her name is “Ellie” by the way 🙂 one sunbeam in my dark storm because she’s named after one of my favourite bloggers.

Talk to you all soon…I hope?