I was going to title this post; bunny was made by a mad woman, but it would be an untruth of sorts. As for some strange reason, making this little bunny was an island of calm in what has been a fairly tempestous few days. All in all, things have been a little better, once I decided that they weren't OK and made the doctors appointment. Work was calmer than usual, there was no fighting at home. Just a sense of bleakness and resignation that I couldn't shake as I went about my pared down routine. Until Sunday morning, which found my lying on the uncomfortable couch in the study trying to have a little cry while Grace alternated between trying to tickle me (charming) and trying to insert all her poking, prodding fingers up my nose and into my eye sockets (not at all charming). Thankfully G peeled her off me and took her to play outside.
Later that day, realising that I was going to visit my cousin and her new baby in hospital on Monday morning and that was tomorrow and I had no baby gift, I decided to pull out the sewing machine and have a crack at a bunny I've been thinking about for a while. There's a few things I'll change next time, and as usual there's somewhat of a gap between what I had in mind and what actually eventuated. What I am most pleased with though, is how the fabric sewed up. Bunny's made from washable wool underblanket and as I clipped the fibres before sewing, I do believe I may have been channelling Tonia Todman, or at least the memory of watching her sew fur on telly sometime in the early nineties. I'm also pretty pleased with the rabbit ears which are lined with washed silk. The face is a piece of old blanket.
I was quite early for my appointment and it was a relief to sit in the air-conditioned waiting area and read the trashy magazines. As it turns out, the appointment was timely. My doctor is of the opinion that I am quite unwell and that although the stresses in my life could have been a catalyst for what has occurred, it has become something else altogether. And may have happened anyway. Even if life had been perfect. Possibly the down from the up, which I thought I may have escaped, it's been such a long time between. So now we have drugs. And a treatment plan which will involve talking therapy. It was somewhat of a relief to let it all out and to make a plan. I cried. She handed me tissues and the twee aspect of her demeanour that I have found intensely irritating in the past was strangely comforting. This is the first time I've had a major mental health issue and have been treated by a doctor (psychiatrist) who already knows my history and issues. Who already knows me. What a difference that makes.
The doctor also discussed taking some time off work, which I poo pooed at first, because work takes me away from everything and I kind of think it's a bit pathetic not to be able to turn up for two days. However the drugs did not make me drowsy as expected, so I spent last night grinding my teeth, lying awake, listening to my heart beat, then sleeping fitfully and dreaming that I had influenza. I awoke feeling that I had been at earthcore for three days straight with nothing but a disco nap. Not a totally terrible feeling, but not what we were aiming for. And possibly not conducive to making sensible decisions at work. So we had another chat on the phone today and I'm going to try taking the pills in the morning and have this week off work, giving me a nice stretch of time to become adjusted. Not so much pressure.
I expect that there may be some odd or dark things that come from my head over the next week or so. It's possible I could just go quiet for a while. Or not. We'll just take it as it comes.