And though there may be some superficial similarities between a psychiatrist and a headologist, there is a huge practical difference. A psychiatrist, dealing with a man who fears he is being followed by a huge and terrible monster, will endeavor to convince him that monsters don’t exist. Granny Weatherwax would simply give him a chair to stand on and a very heavy stick.
Just a quick post. Got to Ashburn a few hours ago. The trip down was really awkward. Travelling with your psychologist is just about as much fun as it sounds. Anyway. I’ve done some admissions stuff with a nurse. I had this stash of panadeine and lied the first time she asked me if I had anything like that, but I’m not a good liar. I start smiling and it’s pretty obvious. I had to eat lunch. I had an orange and a yoghurt. During lunch some of the patients/staff?(not necessarily that easy to tell the difference) were discussing another patient who is apparantly going for long walks and hasn’t eaten in a week. Then they saw my face and shut up about it. I’m seeing the GP in a bit. Might get on later tonight. We’re allowed 2x30min sessions per day.
Oh and everyone here smokes. It’s going to be hard to not start again.
Shit. I’m leaving at 6am tomorrow morning. It’s coming up to 5pm now. I haven’t even finished packing. In fact I’m in the middle of a massive b/p session.
address here if you want to write.
Her dancing is usually more exuberant, she toned it down for the video because she got a little self-conscious.
Little F next door decorated the envelope of the card his mum gave me. I love it. Note the dots and ‘circles’(okay not circles but curved lines which sort of almost end where they started). I taught him those.
Today when I got N up in the morning I tried explaining to her how I’m going to be living somewhere else that’s a long way away, too far to walk or drive. At first she asked if she could come with me but I said she had to stay with her mum and little S. I wasn’t sure she understood what I was saying at all but she insisted on being carried down instead of walking and then she wrapped her legs tightly around my waist and arms around my neck and wouldn’t let go. At breakfast she wouldn’t let her mum do her hair, I had to do it, and then when little S came and wanted a cuddle from me N goes “NO! She’s not your Mel she’s my Mel. Go away!” then she clung to my leg and I had to walk around with 15 kg of child attached to me until she left for the day. It was cute but sad.