There's so much to write about the last two weeks, but I simply don't want to.
I had an awful night on Monday after I took my meds because they made me feel so ill, and I didn't get to sleep until around four. I left The Great British Bake Off on while I went to sleep, and, being alone in the house, the voices were very comforting. I haven't got much sleep since I started taking the tablets again last Wednesday, so I've just been exhausted since getting back from Dan's. I don't sleep well without him anyway. The fact that Sertraline gives me worse nightmares than usual isn't helping either.
I was given the day off work on Sunday, which disappointed me slightly, because I really like working in the pub. I had work last night, though - after the most stressful journey there ever - which I enjoyed, but it was hard to stay cheery after so little sleep and so much stress. Today, Dan and I have hardly spoken. I know he's worried, but I don't know what I can do about it. I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone, anyway. I didn't take my meds last night because I really hate them, and today I'm miserable - whether that's due to the tablets or just me being depressed again, I don't know.