Life, the Universe and the Melancholic

At the end of last month I had my first appointment with a psychiatrist. It has been about four months or so of waiting to see this specialised mind doctor. Maybe longer, my brain is a bit of a fog with remembering the timeline of when my GP gave me the referral and I made the appointment. I know I sat on the referral for maybe a month. Well not actually sat on it, but hesitated to follow it up. I know I needed to follow it up, but I suppose I was hesitant to having a professional pathologising my situation, essentially dissecting my entire existence and distilling it down to a disorder, or permanent malfunction or maladaptation. In a way I was scared to start the process of untangling the messy ball of thread that my mind has become. My psychologist has helped, but a psychiatrist is a different kind of deal, they can actually diagnose you with legitimate, card carrying disorders and throw medication at you. I have had experience with a psychiatrist before. Not for myself, my daughter

I probably spend more time than I should on social media. Well definitely on Facebook. I often use Facebook as a bit of a place to vent. It's just accessible and easy to do so and has become a habit. I guess I hope that someone will see my vent or post and relate to my experience or maybe comment with their own experience. Or at the very least say "that's a bit crap, I hope your day gets better". People respond a whole lot more to the positive stuff though, it's likely the reason some people self censor and only share the upbeat stuff. Well that's not me. I have never been great at censoring my posts for the comfort of others or to appear as though I am doing well and life is fabulous. Yet despite my years of Facebook posting and  venting, I find myself in a predicament of late with my much used social media app. Since my mental health went and dumped itself in to the toilet, I have noticed a drop off of people commenting and interacting with my posts, the bor