Monday, 23 May 2011

Stepford Wives v The Young Ones

It's been exactly a week into the lithium treatment now and I'm wondering how much I can sue the NHS for, for giving a psychiatric patient a placebo drug. I jest. I just over estimated how I would be feeling and behaving - I expected to be sleeping and vomiting a lot, and responding only to commands - not at all. There's been a slight reduction in the intrusive/obsessive dark thoughts, mixed episodes and brain racing (now there's a new pitch for the Olympics - a bunch of nutters running round the track bare feet and arms up screaming. First the paralympics and now the psycholympics).

The burning urge to crack open cava and create a cure for cancer at 11am has lessened, sorry Marie Curie, and I can be told my hair looks nice up without bursting into tears or sleeping with them in return. I've noticed that I'm noticing stuff too, like oncoming traffic and other spacial/visual stuff I've never really paid much attention to other than when someone shouts for me to get out of the f*cking way.

I have however let my flat become an utter tip in my slight vagueness and only yesterday did I take the plunge, after a very long conversation with myself, and I felt like a Stepford wife in The Young Ones house.

They increase today. Will post. In the meantime check out some art or something. I recommend Steve McCann, he's got some fab stuff up at Core Arts in East London at he mo.

No comments:

Post a Comment