"How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay."
This is true. I am okay. My medicine is a little too strong so it gives me a buzz. I'm still crippled with loneliness and my depression is far from over but I feel better than a while ago.
"Good. Have you been eating regularly?"
"I ate twice yesterday. And breakfast this morning."
"What did you have?"
"There was cereal in the cupboard and I sat and ate it from the box. It was a little stale but I don't think it'll make me ill."
She doesn't need extra information but I want to tell her because no one told me off for it and I think someone should have done.
"That's good. And sleep wise?"
"I think five hours, on and off. I've been up since four but the nightmare was really horrible and I was too scared to go to sleep again. I wrote everything down like you said."
I gesture to the notepad and she picks it up, flicking through the pages. Every so often, her eyes linger on some pages a little longer than they should. These are my bad days, when I don't care much for filling in a sheet about how horrible my life is. I write nasty things, insults, swears, anything I feel like writing. I don't like myself on these days.
"Well, you seem to be doing better so let's make our session a little further away this time..."
I don't like this part of the session because then I know I'm going to be alone for a very long time, because no one checks on me. No one comes anymore, not even my family.
I don't like being alone.
YOU ARE READING
Ups and Downs
General FictionIan has depression. He feels pretty hopeless and doesn't know how he's going to cope with any of it.
