Mondays happen (want to tie in metformin and make it a poop joke, but how...)

Had counselling this morning.
It was weird and awkward because it was a lot of crying in front of a middle aged Brit (I think he is Welsh, but not certain as I suck at placing accents).
We went through a thing on controlling and abusive relationships, after I suggested the possibility that I was broken and projecting assumptions and had maybe somehow accidentally abused myself for five years....  We went through the emotional abuse and isolation categories, after which I called an end to it.  The emotional abuse category there was at least a marginal tick for every box.  Which was not good, but did mean it was not just me torturing myself.  He was definitely doing bad things to me.
Evidence that I am not at fault is not entirely helpful as there is still the chunk of my brain that just wants to defend him.  I need to reprogram those thoughts away, but that may take time.

I was left scrambled enough that I remember nothing of the lecture I went to afterwards.

Then rushing home, because I had had a phone call from a plumber asking me to be home by 1400, and I bumped into Shitlord's flatmates.  The one who is also his best friend is still very angry and performatively on my side.  They don't approve of the new guy at all, which I guess is also nice for me.  Maybe.
It is all weird.

The plumber turned out to be a consultant with a tablet and no tools who just examined my bathroom and then declared I would be called one day when a plumber and builder could both come at once and rip out and replace my bathtub.  And it would hopefully be a one day but might end up being a two day job.

Otherwise I am doing nothing with my life but watching bad TV (The Circle is a weirdly addictive reality show) and cyber-flirting with a slightly too young foreigner who I am extremely unlikely to ever actually meet (because it is much less terrifying than the very small amount of flirting I have done with someone more appropriate in Christchurch - the possibility I might meet them takes all the escapism out of it and also makes it very clear I am not yet ready to meet anyone in a flirty context).


Super weird realisation.
The breakup has me pretty sad and confused - but I am pretty certain I am the least depressed I have been in years.
It is weird when you are reminded how much depression and sadness are two different scales.
Also, the way Shitlord treated me had been making me so depressed for so long.