More lucky white heather...
So just as I was getting over the D&V bug, I caught a cold. It persisted for over a week then decided to give me a chest infection. That is now just on its way out, but I am now having agoraphobia issues again. I am also skint.
The job centre have, in their infinite wisdom, asked for another medical certificate after telling me I didn't need any more. Because I haven't sent one in, they've stopped my benefit. I need to go and see the doctor to get a cert, but I can't even face going down my stairs, never mind out onto the street to walk to the surgery. I also have to pick up a scrit for my meds, am almost out of milk and the cat needs food. It's just rediculous. The sensible side of me knows there's nothing to worry about. The other side is being dominant at the moment and has monsters under my bed, nasty people lurking in corners and my husband waiting outside to have a go at me about the divorce and settlement. Sensible knows none of these things are true. Irrational thinks sensible should take a hike because it doesn't fancy being eaten by monsters or jumped out on by Paul in one of his less agreeable moods.
News on the divorce front is the same old. So olds rather than news I suppose.
I spoke to my solicitor last month and did all the form-filling and signing I needed to. The forms were supposed to be exchanged in September. My solicitor is now sick of banging his head on a brick wall and has decided the exchange is unlikely to happen, so is working on proceeding without it. The last contact he had from Paul's solicitor was in September. It is now December. I'm sure he has better things to be doing than writing letters that get ignored and trying to get blood out of a stone.
After seeing my solicitor, I sent an email to Paul. I used three of his email addresses and copied my solicitor in. I wasn't really wanting to mail him, but since we are getting nowhere, it was a task I had to undertake out of desperation to get on with things. I was polite, businesslike and to the point. I asked him to please at least sign the form that will remove his petition from the courts so mine can proceed as agreed. I told him that his lack of cooperation would result in my costs more than likely coming out of his wallet, and that would include the cost of my solicitor travelling to Hampshire to ask for his petition to be removed, since Paul can't sign one bit of paper. I asked him to let me be able to get well again, because the delays mean my psychiatrist and doctor are fighting a losing battle against my depression, which means the remainder of my problems can't be treated. I can't have treatment for the PTSD till the depression is under control. My shrink feels the depression won't be able to be controlled till I have some form of closure on the marriage. My marriage can't be dissolved until Paul actually takes some sort of active role in the proceedings.
I feel helpless. I have my parents coming for Christmas, but if I can't get to the doctors, I'll have no money, and the cupboards will be bare. I can't even think straight enough to work out any gifts for them, which will be hand-made with whatever I have in the house. I have an idea for mum, but no clue what to do for dad. It's really only the thought of them coming down that is keeping me going at this precise moment in time.
I hate days like these. I just wish that someone could tell Paul to stop being so selfish and let me have the opportunity to have some sort of enjoyment in life rather than having everything coloured grey by depression.
I'm tired of this life. I'm scared of what that might mean.
The job centre have, in their infinite wisdom, asked for another medical certificate after telling me I didn't need any more. Because I haven't sent one in, they've stopped my benefit. I need to go and see the doctor to get a cert, but I can't even face going down my stairs, never mind out onto the street to walk to the surgery. I also have to pick up a scrit for my meds, am almost out of milk and the cat needs food. It's just rediculous. The sensible side of me knows there's nothing to worry about. The other side is being dominant at the moment and has monsters under my bed, nasty people lurking in corners and my husband waiting outside to have a go at me about the divorce and settlement. Sensible knows none of these things are true. Irrational thinks sensible should take a hike because it doesn't fancy being eaten by monsters or jumped out on by Paul in one of his less agreeable moods.
News on the divorce front is the same old. So olds rather than news I suppose.
I spoke to my solicitor last month and did all the form-filling and signing I needed to. The forms were supposed to be exchanged in September. My solicitor is now sick of banging his head on a brick wall and has decided the exchange is unlikely to happen, so is working on proceeding without it. The last contact he had from Paul's solicitor was in September. It is now December. I'm sure he has better things to be doing than writing letters that get ignored and trying to get blood out of a stone.
After seeing my solicitor, I sent an email to Paul. I used three of his email addresses and copied my solicitor in. I wasn't really wanting to mail him, but since we are getting nowhere, it was a task I had to undertake out of desperation to get on with things. I was polite, businesslike and to the point. I asked him to please at least sign the form that will remove his petition from the courts so mine can proceed as agreed. I told him that his lack of cooperation would result in my costs more than likely coming out of his wallet, and that would include the cost of my solicitor travelling to Hampshire to ask for his petition to be removed, since Paul can't sign one bit of paper. I asked him to let me be able to get well again, because the delays mean my psychiatrist and doctor are fighting a losing battle against my depression, which means the remainder of my problems can't be treated. I can't have treatment for the PTSD till the depression is under control. My shrink feels the depression won't be able to be controlled till I have some form of closure on the marriage. My marriage can't be dissolved until Paul actually takes some sort of active role in the proceedings.
I feel helpless. I have my parents coming for Christmas, but if I can't get to the doctors, I'll have no money, and the cupboards will be bare. I can't even think straight enough to work out any gifts for them, which will be hand-made with whatever I have in the house. I have an idea for mum, but no clue what to do for dad. It's really only the thought of them coming down that is keeping me going at this precise moment in time.
I hate days like these. I just wish that someone could tell Paul to stop being so selfish and let me have the opportunity to have some sort of enjoyment in life rather than having everything coloured grey by depression.
I'm tired of this life. I'm scared of what that might mean.
posted by Me at 11:17 am
1 Comments:
Oh love, I hope that you feel better soon.... Carolinexxxxxx
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