I'd like to point out that that is very rarely me. I don't wear tracksuits and only occasionally wear jogging bottoms (I only own one pair and I got those from my pole-dancing school for when I don't want to cool down too much). I very rarely have my music loud enough for others to hear too - I like to think I'm considerate that way.
Today is different I guess. I've just gotten out of the doctors. My mirtazapine's been increased to 45mg and I've got to reintroduce diazepam to keep a lid on my anxiety too. I get to review it all on Tuesday again.
I think I'm just starting to lose hope a little. To lose sight of where I'm headed and what I'm aiming for. I'm starting to care less and less about everything: work, chores, my appearance - you name it.
When I get home, I think I'll try and do something nice for myself. A long shower and a face mask maybe. I did get some new Lush things to try the other day.
All in all, it's taken an hour and a half to get my stuff sorted, from leaving the house to go to the appointment to getting back. There was a bit of a hiccup with Bitch-Receptionist and whether or not my prescription was actually at Boots after I ordered it on Monday but it turned out that Mr New Pharmacist had just misplaced it.
Bitch-Receptionist actually told me I must be taking too much propranolol. Clearly I don't know how to take my meds. It's only been a year after all...
Maybe I could have been more polite but frankly it wouldn't have been the first time she'd buggered my script order to my detriment!
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