So, therapy

was awful. Just so bad. I dropped 40 quid to be told to take some time out for myself and maybe go to the pictures and chill out. Yep. Thanks. I KNOW I NEED TO TAKE TIME FOR MYSELF. I can’t do it. I don’t know how to do it. I spilled my guts to a stranger and that’s the best advice he could give me. I can’t keep trying different counsellors until I find one that fits. I can’t afford it. So I gave up and went back to the doctor for a referral to the service that really worked for me last time I was this unwell, but the waiting list is huge. I’m struggling NOW, and every time I go to the doctor she offers SSRIs but I was on them for 18 years and took a whole year to get off them and I really can’t do it again and I’m scared and I don’t even know if this is all just the tail end of withdrawal, a rebalancing now that I’m completely clear of the paroxetine or if this is really who I will always be. I’m rambling. I’m frightened. I need to sleep.


About pippa

40-something, yogi, gardener, reader and writer. Not great at any of those things but more than happy to be average. I'm anxious, depressed, chaotic, boring, delighted, excited and often foolish. It's all good. And cake.
This entry was posted in anxiety, Fear, insomnia, mental health, paroxetine, paxil, seroxat, withdrawal and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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