In the middle of sorting Charlie's room out to look less like a toddler squats there and more like a child's bedroom... I got a call saying they had a spare appointment for Monday. Monday at 1'oclock. Did I want it.
The woman on the phone made me feel nervous. She's probably lovely and was trying desperately hard to be sensitive because she doesn't know exactly what she's dealing with, but I don't know, it felt awkward and way too 'nicey nice' - peoples 'nicey nice polite voices' don't make me relax, they make me feel on edge.
I have to make my way to the South Shields Medical Centre ("the big building") and go to the reception desk and ask for the 'Floor for mental health' so yeah, that's comforting!
Sigh. This is what I wanted. It's taken me a long, long time to face up to the fact that I need some help again, and then when I had, I had to get over whatever stupid mental barrier that was stopping me making the first phone call.
So, from Monday the real journey starts. I apologise for being so dramatic, but this is obviously a huge step in my life, in what should be the right direction for a change!
Good luck! X
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