Edit: My headphones fell apart last night - the really decent ones I've had for 8 years, that Richard has soldered back together about a dozen times. They broke as I was walking down the road and I spent the whole afternoon holding them together so that Richard could mend them again when I got home. But then I had to get off the bus in Epsom and I panicked and pulled them through my hair even though I knew they were broken, and the cover fell off the broken earpiece, and disappeared somewhere on the dirty floor of the bus, so now they can't be mended. And the only way I can face leaving the house is with really loud strengthening music blasting into my ears to drown out all the noise in my head :/
I can't believe how upset I am about a pair of fucking headphones. You know that's not really what I'm upset about at all, but it seems easier to be upset about them than upset about the post-traumatic stress and the fact it's nearly Christmas and I've got this fucking letter to deal with and I don't know how. Tomorrow I need to find the strength to wake up in the morning and ring the secretary at the doctors' surgery and ask when my GP is in again and say I REALLY need to talk to him, and I don't know how I can do that, and no one else can do it for me because of patient confidentiality.