Turning the corner and a question about fumes.

Thank the good Lord for drugs. I've started to notice a change. I'm a little more active for a start, and the feeling of having to force myself to do things is lessening. I'm still irritable, intractable and unreasonable but some would say that's normal for me. I'm hugely grateful for all your comments as usual. One of the best parts of the day is logging on to connect. It really makes a difference. Thank you.

This morning I feel horrific physically but that's no surprise since we went out last night with some work friends of AJ's. We didn't eat until about two hours after we usually do, I had cola to keep me going and a sugary lemonade then took my amitriptyline three hours late. Of course I didn't sleep and had to get up early to let the plumber in. But the big thing is I didn't make some excuse for not going and I enjoyed meeting new people. I held up pretty well too, although the noise in the restaurant got to me in the end and I found it difficult to follow what people were saying.

Earlier in the day I took a painting (a Nina original) down to the framing shop and had a very pleasant conversation with the woman who runs it. They use white spirit in the workshop and the fumes were really getting to me. I could taste them for the rest of the day. It reminded me that when I was at school I used to feel appalling after a double lesson in the art room. Nobody else seemed to notice the nauseating atmosphere. I used to long for someone to open a window. Now, was that an early indication of my sensitivity or the cause of my sensitivity?

My Dad says that when I was a baby they had a car that leaked exhaust into the interior and he used to worry about me in my carry cot on the back seat. Obviously he didn't worry enough to do anything about it, but 'elf and safety wasn't as high on the agenda then as it is now. (Seat belts, schmeat belts). I've sometimes wondered about car exhaust as a possible cause for my CFS as well. The worst onset came after several years commuting on the busiest route in Europe, i.e the M25. Not a nice place in Summer in a jam with the windows open.

Today, the plumber's fumy toolbox is making me cough. He's here to fix the boiler. He's a nice chap but I hope he leaves soon so I can go and lie down.

Difficult

It was a bit of a nightmare weekend. We had little R and I made some Herculean efforts to be welcoming and functioning but I really wasn't up for it. By his next visit I should be in a better place as the higher dose of anti Ds kicks in. AJ is at a loss to understand why I should be feeling so negative when we have all we ever wanted. I am just at a loss.

In the past I have found that bouts of depression are great springboards for periods of creativity and happiness. It's a bit like not being able to have Summer without Winter. However, I'd rather not be depressed. I'd rather trundle along without the highs and lows that are so disruptive to ordinary daily living.

It takes a couple of weeks, sometimes longer, for the higher dose of escitalopram to make a noticeable difference. I'm one week in and at the most difficult phase. I've acknowledged I'm depressed which has allowed it to deepen. So I'm feeling some of the more familiar hallmarks of the condition such as duvet diving, over sleeping, over eating and weepiness. I try to ignore the 'voice' in my head which tells me how useless I am, and I try to heed the 'still small voice of calm' which will get me through. Experience tells me that this will bottom out soon and it will start to loosen its grip. That day though, seems a long way off at the moment.

Right, off to get dressed. Until next time. . . .