Three years on from the pandemic and those fucking lockdowns and the other restrictions which the governments, both federal and states seem to love so much. I'm in Surfers Paradise where I came to escape the loneliness of the lockdowns in Sydney to join my brother Mick in Surfers. No sooner had I arrived then he left to go to Sydney then overseas. He comes back and forth, stays with me, stays with our other brother, Neil, then heads to Asia again. If only I could do it! I'm a stick-in-the-mud! Too many exclamation marks.
I've been in Surfers for two and two thirds years, since January, 2022, and I came for eight months from July 20 to Mar 21 after the first lockdown. Where should I be? I'm not sure. Is Sydney home? Is Surfers home? Is Southampton home? If only I could do all three. Triple S like my footy club - Spurs, Storm, Swans.
I have a feeling that I am depressed again, perhaps not as bad as I was in December/January when I was eventually admitted (too late in my opinion) to Orchid the mental health unit at Gold Coast hospital. I mean I think they should have admitted me in December. I twice went to A & E and twice they kept me in overnight then sent me home. Once at GCUH and then at Robina where I went with a referral from my GP.
Why did they say no both times? I don't know. Did they have no spaces in the units? Did they think I was OK? I was fucked up that's for sure. Eventually, one of the acute care team at Southport arranged for me to be admitted in January which saved my life. I felt better from the moment I went in on the Saturday morning after a night in A & E.
I don't know what is up with me now. I feel OK in the evenings when I go to the Surf Club for dinner and usually 3 drinks, but in the day, at certain times I feel a shadow or a black cloud hanging over me even as I try to keep doing stuff.
I'll see how I go. I don't think I'm as bad as I was but I am still scared......
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