GP Appointment

My doctor would not prescribe me Wellbutrin. She prescribed me Prozac instead. Which pissed me off, because my weight is a big issue at the moment, and I don’t want to get any fatter. Bloody SSRIs. There’s a profound message in all of this, dear reader. You cannot have your cake and eat it. It is too much to expect a depression free existence along with a small bottom. The GP also recommended a few ‘helpful books’ for me to read.

What I really need is a psychiatrist. But the NHS waiting list is 2 years. You can be seen straight away if you go private, but then you have to pay over £100 a session, and I don’t have that kind of money. So what is a mentally ill person to do? Read ‘helpful books’ apparently. And exercise. Oh yes. Exercise. Everyone suggests exercise for depression. I did circuit training for a while. I did aerobic workout videos. Did I feel any better? No, I didn’t. Did I feel all those happy endorphins? No, I did not.

On a completely different subject, I had a good idea yesterday. I formulated a sort-of-plan. Eventually I will move to Oxford with the boyfriend. He will move out of his tiny rented accommodation, and we will buy a modest flat in a nice area, and we will have cats. I will then try to get a job in The Ashmolean, which is an art and architecture museum. I looked on their website and they have a vacancy at the moment. I love the idea of working behind the scenes cataloguing and documenting all the exhibits. They may have another vacancy by the time I decide to move to Oxford, and if they don’t, there are plenty of other museums in Oxford. The place is full of them.