Angry Days

I am angry. Very irritable and angry. Because?
Actually, I have no reason to be angry, I just am.  I can only attribute it to fucking up my meds this week (didn't get myself organised to get to the Chemist for a repeat prescription) and as a result have had several sleepless nights (Does anyone else find Zolpidem sends you hyper, or is it just me?) and have been reading into situations which simply don't exist culminating in a tirade of rage on FB - thank's to the lovely M who phoned me today and suggested I deleted those posts - love a gal who tells me how it is.
I hate it when I am like this.  I feel so detached from everything and every one around me.  I try to occupy myself so that I am distracted, but when I am on my own at home, surfing the net, these thoughts are hanging in the background making me worse and worse.  I am aware that is happening but I don't seem able to stop it and then I wind myself into a frenzy. Meh. I think it's time for a new Crisis Plan.
I tried to make an appointment to register at a surgery for when I return to the UK (5th May!!!).  I decided to go back to my old surgery from many years ago and thought that if I pre-booked an appointment for my return then I wouldn't need to panic about my meds running out (I have enough left for this month), plus can get back into the system asap.  So the conversation went something like this (I had to telephone as their email address does not work):

Me: "Yes Hello I am just phoning from Switzerland to..." 

Doctors receptionist "Can I put you on hold sorry".....wait......"Yes hello" 

Me: I wondered if I could arrange an appointment to register as.... 

"Yes, we are taking on new patients, just come into the surgery with the relevant paperwork, goodbye". 

I had spent 20 minutes practising what to say and then another 5 building up the courage to phone and explain my situation.  so of course, being the pathetic wimp who is currently totally overwhelmed by everything involved in moving back to the UK, I spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in bed sobbing my heart out with anxiety.  Thank god for Seroquel and my cat. Plus my friend who works for the NHS and will certainly be in touch with said surgery (she used to work for the PCT making checks on doctor's surgeries so I wouldn't want to be said Doctor's receptionist when she calls.

It's not so much making the appointment, it's the timescale.  I return to the UK 5th May.  It's Bank Holiday weekend apparently so there is no chance I will get an appointment for that week if I don't pre book.  First, I have to have an appointment with the Practice Nurse to register me.  Then they need to process me.  Then I need to know which doctor I am with so that I can get my Swiss Psychiatrist to send a report, plus get a repeat prescription because I will need meds asap. And I will need at least half an hour with new GP. This could take weeks. (Months?). I can't afford to be without mental health support for this length of time, particularly after making yet another life changing choice - these tend to be trigger points for me.  Of course, I know if I am a danger to myself then I can get my friend to take me to A&E but I do tend to rather think of myself (when I am in crisis) that I am a waste of space, taking up resources needed for sicker people, don't want to be a burden etc. etc. (The usual crap we mentalists tell ourselves).

Anyhoo, I have been in hiding most of the day after my FB comments which basically had told people living here to "Fuck Off" and have just enjoyed a night in of NCIS and CSI repeats.  Lovely.