Laying blame

My laptop and I are going through some serious relationship issues. He's too slow, too noisy, too demanding. Rather than try and fix him, I'm doing what I do best in these situations, I've been avoiding him.

I'm what psychologists might call a "black or white thinker". An "all or nothing" kinda gal. When I was right into my blog about a year or so ago, it was all I could think about. Now, not so much.

Recently I blamed my blog apathy on my want to avoid my own self analysis (which I usually do a lot of here) as well as my fear of judgement from others. I've even cast the blame on zombies for my blog absences. Today, though, I'm blaming my laptop. He's getting on in age. His third birthday is rapidly approaching. While three years might not sound like a ripe old age, in technology terms this piece of machinery is gaining on geriatric status and has been flagged for the old folks' home, aka my junk drawer.

As I sit here attempting to write a readable post, the fan in his posterior is whiring loudly and the software attempting to update in the background keeps flashing with threats of "not responding". Every fibre of my being wants to slam the screen down, walk away and go back to what I've set up as my new point of obsession: good ol' fashioned domestic arts and crafts.

You heard me. I've been crafting. Oh, and cooking!

My attempt at Colin Fassnidge's Roast Chicken with Famous Chicken Bread

If you're a friend on Facebook or you follow me on Instagram you'd know I've been spending time sitting on my arse knitting my little fingers to the bone! Except not really to the bone because this skeleton of mine remains amply covered because of all that luscious cooking I've been doing between knit ones and purl ones.

Click here for the free Cleckheaton pattern I'm using

I've been parenting too. Ha! You might say. Vanessa, you've been parenting since the day your bubba was born nearly five and a half years ago. I see where you're coming from, Dear Reader, but I've been sticking to a routine. Getting that kid of mine to do his homework and reading, feeding him proper food, bathing him, reading to him and getting him asleep between 8.30 and 9pm. Every. Single. Night.

And I've discovered I can do this parenting business by myself while still being a "Cool Mum".

Speaking of being a cool mum, a PR recently sent me some product to flog on my blog. I've been ignoring most PR correspondence but this lovely lady said she'd like to send me something for my kid. I was skint at the time and thought, what the hell, let's see what this freebie is all about.

We got a delivery of some Thermos Foogo products. In the bag was a Foogo Stainless Steel Vacuum Insulated Food Jar which keeps food inside nice and warm for up to five hours or cold for seven hours. And, which was was Noo's favourite, a Foogo Vacuum Insulated Drink Bottle with Silicone Straw. These products are probably aimed at the younger end of the market, but my five year old loves a sippy cup, especially one that keeps his water cool throughout the day while he is at school. What I love about this sippy cup is that it doesn't leak. If you look closely at the picture below on the right, you can see Noo's nanna in the background, watching carefully to make sure that nothing drops on the freshly laid sisal beneath where he is sitting.

Noo loves his new Thermos Foogoo products

Kicking goals all over the joint, I am. (We've been watching a lot of Star Wars. Yoda I am not.)

Yeah, I still have my woes. My mate Anxiety is still in residence. I need major surgery on my left knee and I need another iron infusion but, you know what? Today is a good day. Yesterday I could barely keep my eyes open for the anaemia related exhaustion, but today I'm feeling good about life.

Swings and roundabout, y'all. That's what life is all about.

See ya in a couple of weeks.... Maybe.

V.


Disclaimer: If it wasn't obvious already, I was given the above mentioned Thermos products. I was not paid any cash or under any obligation to mention them on my blog. But Noo liked them so I decided to give them a shout out. 

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Face the fear and blog anyway

Last week, for the first time since I started my blog, I felt I needed to defend my need to write and publish my story as if my life depended on it - like my blog's existence depended on it.

Someone important in my son's life felt I was compromising Noo's (as my son will now be referred to) anonymity by publishing photos of him here. It was interesting timing for this comment as I'd just written about my fear of such a challenge.

When the words were first uttered I was completely taken aback. Not even my parents had said anything so bluntly even though I know they have their own concerns about this space of mine. I was devastated but I was forced to really think about, and write down, why I risk my own privacy as well as my five year old's.

The two days that followed were surprisingly overwrought with emotion: fear, sadness, exasperation, indignation, anger. The crazy thing is, my passion for blogging has waned this year. I've wondered if I really am comfortable having all this shit on here for anyone to read. And I've been bored by my own voice and have avoided listening to it through this medium.

So why did I react the way I did?

I realise now just how sensitive I still am about my past. How desperately I still feel the need to defend it - to myself and to others. The things that have happened to me still have such an overwhelming amount of control over me. But if I shut the past out, lock it up and ignore it, I feel like I'm giving in to it. Like it will turn into the skeleton in the family closet. A dirty little secret.

I also realised how proud I am of a lot of my writing here. Before I started this blog I had no confidence in my writing ability. I'd only ever written corporate correspondence and emails home while travelling. Through writing here I found something that I love doing. I found an activity that has kept my mind going and my computer skills current while I've been off work for the last six years. There's no way I could just throw it all away based on one person's opinion.

This is my space

So defend my blog I did.

Here is an edited excerpt from the email I wrote:

Why I won't delete photos of my son off my blog (until of course he personally asks me to) 

I’m not ashamed of my past or current struggles.

The aim of my blog is to help kill the stigma of mental illness, addiction in recovery and of being a victim of rape. I will not hide from these facts about my life. Hiding implies guilt which implies blame.

My son will be told what I've blogged about as soon as he asks or is old enough to know. He already knows about babblingbandit.me and he knows I don’t drink because it makes me go silly. When he gets bigger I will tell him of the alcoholism and depression that has plagued many members of his family.

When you google my son's name no pictures of him are found and no links to my blog are returned in the search results. However, I have completed a ‘find and replace’ to remove all instances of my son's name throughout the blog.

Please don't get overwhelmed by the “From Rock Bottom to Parenthood” story. Yes, it is graphic and confronting. But it is MY past. I own it and will not be shamed by it. And my blog is so much more than that series of posts.

Some of my favourite posts I’d like to draw your attention to:

When is the right time for kids to try alcohol?
In this post I discuss my belief, backed up by research, that children should not be encouraged to drink alcohol before the age of 18, despite many parents in our society thinking that allowing younger kids to drink at home is the way to avoid binge drinkers later in life.

Managing mental illness: Self-care
In this post I talk about my experience with mental illness and tips on how to manage it. You can see from the comments on this post that many people found it extremely helpful. I have had so many people from all different walks of life either email me or comment on my blog thanking me for my raw honesty.

Sole parenting: Mums raising boys without dad around
I discuss my fears of raising Ned without his father. I then go on to say why I believe I made the right decision nearly six years ago to not have any contact with his father, as well as delve into some referenced research as to why parenting is “not anchored in gender” and that it is possible to raise a happy and healthy boy without a dad in the picture.

The BB top 10 benefits to living sober
babblingbandit.me’s most popular blog post is The BB top 10 benefits to living sober. In this post I write a list of reasons why sobriety is awesome. I was sponsored by FebFast to write the post to inspire those taking a break from alcohol. It has been shared widely around the web.

My blog attracts approximately 900 unique views a month. In the grand scheme of things it is a tiny blog. I do however occasionally publish sponsored posts and have advertising on my blog which generate a little bit of spending money for me.

I am proud of my blog. I am proud of how far I have come as a person and as a parent. I am sure as Noo grows up he will be very proud of me as well. Everything I do, I do it for Noo. If he should get to an age where he is ready to learn about where he comes from and is unhappy with the story being online, I will remove it. But how he was conceived has nothing to do with who he is as a person and I will always reassure him of that.

I am raising my son to be a confident, happy child. I will advise him to stand up for who he is and be proud of it. I hope I will arm him with the confidence to deal with bullies should that become a problem in the future...

My email had the effect I wanted it to. Even though the whole experience was emotionally difficult, I faced my fear and won.

Now all I have to do now is get on with it and blog!


What do you think about bloggers using their kids' photos online and telling stories about them before they are old enough to consent?


V.

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Writing as therapy: Fear and judgement

I have writer's block. Again. This block is a big one with the label "FEAR" etched across it. And so I find myself again blogging about my fear of blogging.

Makes for boring reading, no?

It's not like I don't have anything to say. I've got a list of blog titles and even folders of photos to accompany some of them, but actually sitting here and writing it up seems like such a chore.

I don't think I'm consciously worried about stats. In fact my unique monthly hits are higher than they ever have been, despite my slow blogging. And I'm pretty sure there's not too many of you (if any) out there hanging out for my next post. But I still feel that I should  be getting my words out ("Use your words, Vanessa"). For me. For my son. Maybe. I don't know why.

I'm going through a really blah period of my life. I have no real passion for anything. Of course, my five year old is everything to me, and my love and excitement for Noo will never cease. But the rest of life? Blah.

Boredom makes me hyper-aware of all that ails me - my knee which needs surgery later this year, my coccyx which is arthritic and worn thanks to that fateful night way back in 2007, constant constipation thanks to psych medication that I just can't survive without, headaches, anxiety about money, weight woes, loneliness...

Truth be told, I probably have too much time on my hands. I know what I want/need to do but as always fear holds me back.

Once again I fear the possible repercussions of my writing. Someone dear to me (who shall remain nameless) said by putting our (and by "our" I mean bloggers, Twitterers, Facebookers, celebrities, anyone on social media or in the public eye) life online we open ourselves up and invite criticism and judgement. That basically if you get bullied for what you've disclosed online, you kind of deserve it, because if you didn't expose yourself to the world you wouldn't have gotten bullied in the first place.

Personally, I call bullshit. Because it's kind of the same as saying if I didn't go out on Friday 17 April 2007 and get drunk, then I wouldn't have been raped. This theory places the responsibility and blame for the crime on me, the victim, rather than on he/she  the rapist/bully.

I have never been trolled online which I'm so grateful for. I've read what some people say about some bloggers and it fills me with dread that anyone could possibly dissect my life like that. But I don't think those trolls or forums which facilitate them should be banned. I regard freedom of speech as one of the most important values in our society. Banning such sites would do more harm than good as a whole. But, what I don't understand, is how anyone could even think of those things to say about people, let alone publish them publicly in order to ridicule them.

A lot of what I've published here has taken a huge amount of courage and a massive chunk of my heart and soul has gone into putting the words together. I told the story about my past problems with drugs and alcohol, about being raped, about my endless struggles with mental illness because I want to help people. I want others who may be in a similar situation know they are not alone.

But I'm not just fearful of what I blog about, I'm scared about what people in the real world might say/think about me if they got to know me. I avoid social situations. I fear the question "So, what do you do?".

I don't know what the fuck I do. I survive each day. Is that not enough?

I stand by my belief that the only way to kill stigma is to talk about the things that some sections of society try to shame us about. For some reason I feel I need to reaffirm this belief to myself, and to you, so I can keep writing. Hiding in the shadows is only going to feed the fear. Standing up and declaring who I am and owning it should surely make me stronger.

So here I am:

Hello my name is Vanessa and

    I am a recovering alcoholic and drug addict

      I suffer from have PTSD, Generalised Anxiety Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder and ADHD

        I take various psychiatric medications

            I have a lap-band and weigh about 92 kg

               I have been a victim of violent crime on three separate occasions in my life

                     I'm a single parent

                          I don't have a job

Fear and judgement can kiss my arse

I'm sick of living a fearful life.

The truth of it is, the only troll in my life is me. I am my own worst enemy and most critical judge.

Build a bridge, Vanessa, and get over it. Fear can kiss your arse!


V.

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Managing mental illness: Self-care

The last year has been one of the hardest since my first serious mental health breakdown in 2007. I’ve stood way too close to precipice of life and death on more occasions than I think I ever have in my life – particularly midway through last year when I spent five weeks in a psychiatric hospital.

The only reason why I haven't slipped over the edge is my son. Even when the battle seemed too great I just had to think of him – my beautiful five year old boy – and a little voice in the back of my head would tell me to fight on.

It’s been nearly seven years now since I first came truly undone. Over those seven years I have had eight in-patient admissions to psychiatric hospitals, have done three out-patient psycho-educational courses over a 17 month period, had constant therapy with either psychiatrists, psychologists or both, and have read a lot about mental health. Crikey, you'd think I'd be cured by now!

But it is not about finding the cure, it is about managing the condition, and I've learnt a lot along the way about how to keep my head above water, even when I felt the undertow was going to beat me.

Image source

I thought I'd share a few of my survival tips*:

1.      Maintain a good mental health care team

I've been going to the same general practitioners’ centre for seven years. I’ve changed doctors but have maintained my relationship with the surgery over the entire time. If you can find a good GP, stick with them. You don't have to keep telling your story over and over and they can tell when you're not doing well sometimes even before you know it yourself.

I also get all my medications from the one pharmacy. They keep my prescriptions on file and can let me know when I'm due for more. I've built a relationship with a couple of the pharmacists which makes it awesome knowing I've got more people on my team who understand my situation. I went there once during a panic attack when I was out shopping in the city with Noo because that was the closest safe place I could think of. I was supported through the attack while another staff member played with my son – definitely going beyond the usual pharmacy service!

I've had numerous psychiatrists and psychologists over the years. Some I’ve been with for two years or more, some for a very short time. It is critical that you bond with your therapist. You have to trust them with your story and believe that they offer good advice in return. If you feel you've outgrown your therapist or that they have provided all the advice you think they can offer, don't be afraid to move on. They won’t be offended. Your sessions are about YOU. Make sure you control the direction your therapy goes in but be open to new ideas as well. Seeing them regularly (I go once a fortnight) helps with the flow of the therapy.

2.      Family support, if you've got it, is critical – use it yet nurture it

I owe my survival to my family. They support me, especially helping with looking after Noo, but most importantly they listen to me. Especially my mum and my sister. My mum, particularly, has been instrumental in keeping me going over the last year. She lets me go over and over my thoughts and feelings as I try to understand what’s going on in my head. I know it has an incredible strain on her but she never tells me to leave her alone.

3.      Catch up with your best friends and be social to meet new ones

Since my huge lifestyle change from party girl to sole parent my offline social network has diminished. I have a few key girlfriends, most of whom I've known for a very long time. I can go weeks, even months without seeing them, but when we do catch up it is like no time has passed. Maintaining social contact with the world outside my family is sometimes hard for me because I don’t work and I tend to shy away from extending myself outside my comfort zones, especially when I'm unwell. I know, though, that it is good for my mental health if I do get out and connect with people. Meeting people at blogging conferences has been a great way to do this.

4.      Blogging

Blogging has been a real outlet for me. Writing the stories of my past as well as what I’m going through in the present has been really cathartic. For some reason though over this year I've stepped back from my blog. Writing has become a bit of a chore and I’ve become wary of bringing my readers down with the mood my posts.

I am trying to get back into the flow of it now Noo has started big school. Having a project that is all mine that I can work on at my own pace is really healthy for me too. It keeps me busy and using my brain. Even though I don’t work, I can’t just lounge around and read all day or watch TV – that just adds to my feelings of guilt and anxiety. Blogging is like an unpaid job that I am the boss of. The blogging community also provides much needed connection with the outside world and it is a source of support and inspiration.

5.      Pampering

I’m not very high maintenance but I do like to get my nails done every three weeks. I never miss an appointment and have become good friends with the lovely woman who does a great job on them. I love the whole process of deciding on a colour and having someone fuss over me for an hour.

6.      Zoning out

When I can watch the telly, after Noo has gone to bed, I love American shows like Girls, Game of Thrones and House of Cards. I also love going to the movies on my own. Watching the telly is such a great way to sit back and totally forget about my woes. My latest thing is to work on a “paint by numbers” painting at the same time. I started my first one last year and it is totally addictive but relaxing!

Reading fiction is also a great way to zone out but when my anxiety is high I find it very hard to focus. I used to read masses of novels as a way to escape reality but since anxiety has taken over from depression, it is a little harder for me to keep up with.

7.      Mindfulness

I've recently spent a bit of time learning about ‘mindfulness’. I highly recommend anybody, not just those with mental health issues, to look into it. I've been following a great iPhone app called Headspace that takes you through 10 minute mindfulness exercises. I've also listened to Pema Chödrön’s book called Getting Unstuck which made all sorts of sense about the way I can get myself so worked up over things. It also gives practical teachings on how to let go of old shit.

There’s still so much I need to learn about mindfulness and I also need to dedicate more time to actually practicing it.

If you've been reading my blog for a while you'll know I've suffered mental illness throughout most of my life. I know it is something that I will never be cured of, so self-care is survival. Medications and/or talk therapy alone aren't enough. Eating well and exercise are also important and are areas that I need to dedicate more time to.

I believe taking a holistic approach to mental health management is the best way to having a fulfilling life, armed with the tools to battle the bad times, as well as allowing the insight to acknowledge and embrace the great times.

What do you do to look after yourself?

V.

*I am not a mental health care professional. These are my personal experiences and opinions. If you do think you need help with depression and/or anxiety, please seek help from a professional or call Lifeline 13 11 14.

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When is the right time for kids to try alcohol?

"Noo, have a taste of this", my mother offered kindly. "It's delicious", she promised.

I was in the kitchen when I overheard this conversation going on in the hall.

"It's pear flavour", mum explained.

I looked around the kitchen and saw a half empty bottle of pear cider sitting on the kitchen bench.

"Nooooooo!" I screamed, running into the other room. "Don't let him have any of that! It's alcoholic!" Fear drummed through me. It was if I was about to take my first sip of alcohol in nearly six years.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't realise. I thought it was just sparkling pear juice, like apple cider", my well meaning mother apologised.

The feeling in me was so irrational, I know, but I don't want Noo to have any alcohol until he is of legal drinking age. Not even a little sip. I know that is a crazy expectation to have in this day and age. I can't be with him all the time but I want to do whatever I can to encourage him to wait until he is 18 years old before getting involved with booze and booze culture, if he chooses to at all.

Put it off for as long as possible - image source

I tried and got a taste for alcohol way too early. My parents took the "forbidden fruit" approach thinking it would be better to let us have a try of wine or beer at home rather than make alcohol forbidden, therefore allowing it to become more attractive to the naturally rebellious side of our teenage years.

This is a common way of thinking for parents of teenagers. As reported by Ward, Snow, et al, in their report The influence of parents and siblings on children’s and adolescents’ attitudes and behaviours towards alcohol: A critical review of the literature (2010) prepared for DrinkWiseAustralia:

"Almost half of Australian parents believe that they should teach their children to drink at home before they reach the age of 18".

I'm not saying that my parents giving me a sip of wine at the dinner table is to blame for me abusing alcohol for 12 years but it certainly gave me a taste for it. Research shows that the earlier kids are given their first taste of alcohol, and this is usually under their parent's consent, the more likely they are to increase their alcohol use later in life:

"Longitudinal studies have shown that child reports of parental supply of alcohol for their last episode of drinking are a strong predictor of increased alcohol use over time. Overseas research suggests that when parents do not supply alcohol, adolescents do not increase their consumption of other alcoholic drinks." - The influence of parents and siblings on children’s and adolescents’ attitudes and behaviours towards alcohol: A critical review of the literature (2010)

Now I know my son is only five years old. And I really hope this issue is one I don't have to worry about for a while, but there are still things we, as parents, can do to help mould our kids' attitudes towards alcohol from a very early age.

I've seen in my Facebook feed, and around other websites I haunt, a great parenting quote that goes something like this: "kids will learn more from what we do, than from what we say". The DrinkWise website backs this up:

"Through observing adults drinking, children form their attitudes to alcohol early in life. The attitudes they develop during their younger years will affect how they make a range of important decisions regarding drinking alcohol in the future, such as: underage drinking, pace yourself or fill-up fast, drink and drive or take a taxi, binge drink to get drunk or drink sensibly, drinking every day or occasionally and so the list goes on."

As I'm close to clocking up six years of sobriety from alcohol, Noo has never seen me drink, and I hope he never will. His grandmother drinks rarely and his grandfather is a moderate drinker but Noo has never seen these two extremely important role models in his life, drunk. And I hope he never will.

One day I will tell him about the alcoholism that has plagued both sides of his family. One day I will tell him about my own troubles with booze. I will tell him that he has to wait until he is legally allowed to before he can have a drink. And I will hope that he will grow to be a self confident young person who will feel able to make healthy choices based on knowledge, rather than let himself be peer pressured into doing things he isn't comfortable with just to feel accepted by the crowd. My parenting choices, starting from the day he was born, will hopefully help him become that person.

I know these are grand aspirations I have for my little boy and for myself as his mum. But, you have to be positive in life, set goals, reach for the sky. Sure, mistakes will be made by both of us along the way. If temptation does get in the way and, like a lot of teens, Noo does sneak a taste of booze before he turns 18, the sky won't fall in. We will deal with it. Together.

How old were you when you first tried alcohol?

If you have kids are you going to let them try it at home first before
they turn 18 or make them wait?

V.

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Where the bloody hell are ya?

Wow. It's been three months since my last confession blog post. I've been really looking forward to getting back into it but life has been busy. And stressful (when is it not for this little stress-head?). And, honestly, having a break from over analysing all my shit here has been nicely refreshing.

With Noo having started big school (that's right BIG SCHOOL!) last week, I'm so looking forward to having some time to myself so I can get back to doing more of the stuff I love, like blogging. And spending time with grown ups. And being by myself to do what I want to do. Oh, how I crave the ever cliched "me-time".

Here's a little catch up of what's happened while I was away...

I turned 39 years old

Truly amazing. And after enduring 2013, which turned out to be an annus horribilis to go down as one of the worst in my life, entering my 40th year is turning out to be pretty good so far.

There's was a time in my life I thought I'd never make 40, and I was proud of it. I was a rock star. Here for a good time, not a long time and all that. Times have certainly changed.

The party years

I'm not nearly as freaked out as I thought I'd be about entering my 40th year. I guess because I don't really feel 39. My body aches at times, yes. I gained 20 kilos in 2013 through depressive emotional eating. But I've now lost eight kilos since I joined the HAES movement. I'm learning to love my body how it is right now, rather than waiting for some miracle to occur that would magically turn my body into a socially acceptable shape and therefore worthy of love. Surprisingly, by doing this, I'm treating myself a lot better. And losing weight despite not being on a diet.

On my 39th birthday heading out for lunch with the family

Noo turned 5 years old

Another milestone birthday was celebrated. We went big for Noo's fifth birthday party, celebrating with all his little preschool mates at Luna Park. We celebrated not only his birthday but his graduating from the little daycare he has been attending since he was only 15 months old. We were both sad to see our time at Noo's daycare come to an end, but our family continues its connection with the school as my niece will be there a little while yet.

Celebrating Noo's fifth birthday at Luna Park

Our first summer school holidays

Noo and I had five full weeks together. The longest time he wasn't in any formal care since he was 15 months old. I was terrified I'd made the wrong decision in not enrolling him for January care but thought it would be a great time for us to hang out and do some cool stuff together.

We sure did get around: Hanging out with my sister and Noo's cousin Mala, Christmas, a couple of trips to the Blue Mountains, New Year's Eve with friends, Noo jumped on a blow up Stonehenge at Sydney Festival, Darling Quarter, Vikings at the Maritime Museum, Tyrannosaurs at the Australian Museum, nearly every public pool in the inner Sydney region, contributed to building a Lego art piece at the Opera House, and many other fun activities. We had so many big days out that by the last week of the holidays my self-proclaimed "go-boy" Noo said he was tired and wanted a few days home to rest before starting big school.

Summer fun filled holidays!

Noo started kindergarten

Noo's start to his big school life couldn't have gone smoother. He was excited rather than nervous the night before and jumped out of bed like Santa had been the night before when I told him it was time to get ready for the big day ahead. I must admit that I was a bit anxious in the lead up to the first day. More because we'd both gotten used to late nights and 8.30am sleep-ins than worried he'd be scared to go to school. He was so looking forward to it after spending most of January missing his old preschool mates.

Neither of us cried. Shock bloody horror. I've cried a few times over the summer break, about things I can't write about, but leaving Noo at big school for the first time was not one of those times. His Grandpa and I took him on the bus into town. When we got to school there were so many big kids around I was really worried he'd be overwhelmed by it all. But no, not my confident little wonder-kid. He settled in just fine. Especially with his best little mate Justine Stark always by his side.

First day of school

So there you have it! It's nearly midnight and I have to be up super early. We have been renovating our new apartment over the last three months too. I have serious reno fatigue. Sick of strangers in the place, the dust, the moving shit around, blah. But let's not end on a negative note. 

Here's to getting back to some serious blogging in 2014.

Hoping you all have had a great summer break as well.

V.

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Doctor, this antidepressant isn't working - so fuck you

I'm so fucking angry right now.

Since my first outburst of tears on 10 May 2013 when I got the sign that my mood was slipping in the wrong direction, I have been on and off a shitload of medications.

None of them have helped me:

Citolapram
Duloxetine
Fluoxetine
Sodium Valproate
Quetiapine
Lithium
Lamotrigine
Diazapam
Nortriptyline

I've had side effect ranging from constipation, headspins, blurred vision, vertigo, dizziness, dry mouth, altered menstrual cycle, headaches, restless leg syndrome, depression, anxiety and now rage.

I'm so angry right now I could punch my fist through this fucking computer.

I'm so angry right now that I'm not getting better.

I'm so angry right now that I have ALL THE THINGS an unemployed person could want but I'm fucking miserable.

I'm so angry right now that I screamed at my son this morning because we were running late for fucking preschool. I pushed him down the hallway because he didn't do what I asked him to do the first time I asked it, or the second, or the fucking third time.

I'm so angry right now because when my one and only child begged me for a kiss for forgiveness I couldn't even look at him because I AM SO FUCKING ANGRY!

I'm so fucking angry because I keep telling my fucking psychiatrist that I'm fucking angry in the fucking morning and he just fucking tells me that I haven't given this fucking medicine enough of a go yet.

Well I think three weeks of fucking anger is enough fucking anger!

I'm so sick of being on this pharmaceutical rollercoaster.

I just want to feel the way I did before this all happened. I know I wasn't 100% before this episode but it was a hell of a lot fucking better than this fucking bullshit!


I'M SO FUCKING OVER IT!


So, Shrink, fuck you!

V.

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I haven't really been OK since 10 May 2013. What about you? RUOK?

Trigger alert. For crisis support click here.

Yesterday marked four months since my first anxiety induced crying attack. Since then I've been on an emotional rollercoaster with way too many ups and downs at a speed even I didn't think I was capable of.

Tomorrow is the annual suicide awareness/prevention event known as RUOK? Day where people are encouraged to asked friends, family, colleagues, anyone if they are ok.

Last year I wrote about a time in my life when I was really not ok. Last year, as I typed up those words, I never thought I'd feel that kind of not ok again.

But here I am. Twelve months later and I have dipped back into that place. Well, I go in and out of the black hole. It's hard to explain.

I guess the difference between this depression and my 2007 depression is that now there's hope. Being a parent is what keeps me fighting. I'm also way more knowledgeable about depression and anxiety than I was back then. Six years of constant therapy has made sure of that. I know both those bitches lie. They make me feel and think things that aren't true and as convincing as they might be, it's hope (Noo) that keeps me from believing them.

Knowing the signs of when my mood started to change also allowed me to get help sooner. And I guess the spontaneous bursts of tears made it pretty bloody obvious something was not ok.

Having an excellent support network of family, friends and medical professionals is also critical. Just showing up to my psych appointments keeps me accountable. Like seeing a personal trainer for my emotions. Even if I don't work really hard during a session at least I'm there.

I know RUOK? Day has been getting a lot of flack because we should ask our friends, family, colleagues, anyone if they are ok every day of the year if the signs are looking like they are not. But I think RUOK? Day isn't about one day of the year, it's about general awareness of mental illness. It's about getting those crisis support numbers out in the media, and on posters in workplaces and schools, where maybe just one person notices them for the first time and thinks, hey, I could actually use a bit of help.

I really don't think people involved with this initiative will just switch off once the sun sets and the day is over. The conversation has been started and that's gotta be something. It sure beats silence. The more we talk about mental illness the more we will hopefully remove the stigma attached to it giving more people the courage to come out and seek help. And yeah, maybe even save a life.

Whether you've got a lifetime's history of mental illness like me, or you're having a really bad time for the first time, I think RUOK? Day has it's place.

I think we all like to feel supported on any day of the year.

So don't forget to ask: RU OK?

V.

For help please use these helpful resources:

Call: 1800 RUOKDAY (1800 7865 329) to connect with crisis line

Visit: your doctor, a counsellor or trusted healthcare professional

Access: ruokday.com for tips from their information partners

Lifeline 13 11 14

Suicide Call Back Service 1300 659 467

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Busy bodies/healthy minds

It's been about two and a half weeks since I discharged myself from the psychiatric hospital where I was in being treated for depression. I thought I'd give you an update of how I am feeling and how Noo and I are getting on with our new regime. Writing it down helps me to consolidate and understand my feelings as well.

I am definitely a hell of a lot better than I was before going into hospital. The proof is in the fact that I'm not crying every day any more. Sometimes I can feel emotional tears start to well at the back of my eyes but they mostly quickly subside. I've been using mindfulness techniques to ground myself back into the moment rather than letting my mind go off in emotional tangents that just look for evidence of reasons to cry... if that makes any sense. I'm getting better at reigning those emotions in but they are still there.

Noo and I have been keeping super busy. In two and a half weeks we have been to Sydney Tower, Madam Tussauds, Wildlife Sydney, Manly Sea Life Sanctuary, the Powerhouse Museum, Darling Quarter Playground, and the Museum of Contemporary Art. The weather has been gorgeous which helps both my mood and my willingness to go outdoors.

Before I went into hospital I was so anxious about going out with Noo that the thought of it filled me with dread. I felt completely out of control of myself and of him. I wrote about my fear and sadness in late May which I just reread and it made me cry all over again. That post reminds me how lonely sole parenting can be, especially when I'm unwell.

I was so petrified I was going to breakdown in public in front of Noo. I felt so incredibly anxious all the time. I actually didn't realise just how anxious I was and how constant it was. It's like when you've had the radio on for ages and it's just off the station. The static becomes white noise because you've become so used to it. That is until someone moves the dial to the correct frequency and you can't believe the clarity of the sound. That's how I've felt for four months. Constantly off frequency with spurts of static so unbearable that I just want to throw the damn radio out the window.

But now, finally, Noo and I are back to being a partnership. Well, a partnership where one partner is more senior than the other, but a team of two nonetheless. The static is still there but it only comes in and out quietly, like my emotional aerial is blowing in the breeze and sometimes goes off station for a moment or two.

There's still a lot of work to do for my wellness and, of course, parenting is a job that never ends. I just have to be as strong and vigilant as I can to ensure I stay on top of my therapy and I keep up with our new routines in order to maintain a healthy, happy home for the both of us.



How are you feeling today?



V.

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I'm a big boy now!

When I was a little girl through to my teen years my family and I lived in a terrace house in the Sydney suburb of Newtown. The house was on a leafy street that leads down off the main road and continues through to the railway. I always loved this house and I think I still do because I miss it sometimes. Some of my best childhood memories come from the home we had there.

One of my funniest memories from when I was a little kid was brought back to the forefront of my mind when Noo, who is fast heading towards his fifth birthday, did something almost exactly the same as my sister did at around his age.

My sister was a feisty, vivacious little girl who pretty much always knew what she wanted and knew how to get it. She had blonde ringlets and beautiful blue eyes and an attitude that could even make adults doubt their position in an argument with her. And this when she was only a preschooler!

I clearly remember the day. My mum had filled the bath and left us to our own devices to wash and play in the water for a while. I was already undressed and in the tub when Yolanda stripped off her singlet and declared it was for babies so she didn't want to wear it any more.

The offending singlet had a little blue pony on it, if I recall correctly. Yo held it ceremoniously above the toilet, dropped it in and flushed, declaring: "I'm a big girl now!"

Unfortunately for Yo, and more so for my dad, the singlet didn't make it too far passed the S-bend and clogged up our toilet pipe. I remember dad having to hire special plumbing equipment to stick in through the pipes to find that pony singlet and remove it. As you can imagine my dad was not happy about Yo's way of showing us she was over with being the baby of the family.

Noo made a similar declaration with one of his material possessions just a couple of nights ago. Thank goodness it wasn't a singlet flushed in the toilet! Instead Noo found his Thomas the Tank Engine spoon, held it up to me and said "I don't like Thomas any more because I'm a big boy now!" and proceeded to chuck the spoon into the bin with a clang.

Well I'll be. My boy is no longer a baby.

Our Thomas days are over!

Maybe that was what Miley Cyrus was trying to tell the world the other day when she made that performance at the VMAs a couple of days ago? If only she'd just chucked out her baby clothes or cutlery to show she was moving on to the next stage of her life. Surely there could have been a more appropriate way to make such a statement.


Have your kids made any grand gestures to show they are growing up?


V.

Floggin my bloggin With Some Grace

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The drugs don't work

I'm eight days out of hospital and I feel like shit. Four days ago I was feel bloody fabulous. I went on the longest walk I think I've ever done. The energy, clarity and freedom I felt was amazing. Now, I can't seem to get that feeling back. My brain is playing tricks with me as usual.

The dizzy spells started around three days ago I think. The ground has been moving from under my feet - sideways and up and down. My head feels foggy and I can't really see clearly. I'm anxious and depressed at the same time yet I'm able to have spontaneous fits of giggles and bursts of happiness. I imagine my psyche sitting at an old one armed bandit poker machine. With each yank of the arm, the reels turn and I score a different emotion to contend with. I wish it would stop at happy and walk away from the machine. Enough is enough.

My tear ducts are ready to give forth salty streams of water down my face at the push of a button. Any one of my current sensitivity buttons will do: crowds, blogging, Noo not doing as I ask, Noo being noisy, Noo being messy, Noo being gorgeous, politics, thinking about my parents and wishing they were back home. Yep, anyone of them can start me off.

Combine the wrong spin of the pokie with the more dramatic button being pushed and bam! It's a recipe for the proverbial disaster.

But this too shall pass.

This too shall pass.

Yesterday started like the rest. Woke up....

Ah, fuck it. Was going to tell you about this huge public breakdown I had in the middle of Pitt Street Mall, no less, but I'm going to spare you the details. It started with the dizziness. Poor Noo had to endure the whole thing. It really was terrible.

I'm suppose to be getting better! That's why I'm home from hospital. I can't go back. I just can't leave Noo again. Not until my parents get back at least. He needs the familiarity of his own home rather than being shunted around.

This morning I broke down crying but I decided that rather than hide from Noo I sat with him. I tried to explain my tears and how I was feeling. We were getting ready to go out and he just had his undies and singlet on as he crawled up onto my lap. He's so small with no clothes on. My baby again.

He kissed my hands as I cried and told him how much I love him. That the tears were not his fault. They are no one's fault. Mummy's brain chemistry is just a little weird right now. 

"You need to go back into hospital and get better Mummy", Noo told me.

"No way! I'm not leaving you again. I'll be ok."

"Don't worry about me, Mummy. You have to get better."

My four and a half year old is so brave! Braver than I am that is for sure.

The brave and the bold

I can still feel the dizziness come in waves. It makes me feel out of control physically as much as I've felt out of control emotionally for months now. I think the problem is that I'm having serious withdrawal symptoms from discontinuing one of the medications I was on. Well, I'm pretty much 100% sure.

I was only on fluoxetine (also known as Prozac, Lovan) for about two months and it has been about ten days since my last dose. Prior to that I was on a different SSRI antidepressant called citalopram for about four years. Citalopram is supposed to be quite hard to come off. The dose has to be tapered down so withdrawal symptoms are minimised. In the switch from one to the other, my doctor had me on both citalopram and fluoxetine at the same time for weeks to help avoid any withdrawal symptoms from the citalopram. I haven't had any citalopram now for about six weeks so it should be completely out of my system. Even though I stopped taking fluoxetine abruptly 10 days ago (as directed by my psychiatrist) it is not supposed to have the same withdrawal problems as the other because it has a longer half life which means it stays in the body for longer therefore naturally tapers off slowly.

Phew! Did you get that?

Basically, if none of that makes any sense, my bloodstream should be completely free of SSRI antidepressants and I should be feeling a lot better than I do.

So why am I feeling all the textbook symptoms of SSRI discontinuation syndrome? Brain zaps, dizziness, nausea, vertigo, tremor, confusion, anxiety.

I guess I'll have to wait until my next doctor's appointment to find out.

Dr Google can't tell me everything.

It sure can't tell me when this shall pass.

V.

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Mental illness: Coming home from hospital

If you follow me on the social networks you'll know I'm freshly out of hospital. I was an inpatient at a psychiatric hospital for two weeks being treated for depression and anxiety. Or maybe it's bipolar II. My shrink can't put me into a DSM-5 box yet.

I've been back out in the big bad world for a week. Well, it isn't that bad, but it is full of new challenges as I try to adjust to life on a completely new family of medications with a son who has gone through a behaviour training program of sorts while I was away.

This is an excerpt from an email I sent my parents earlier this week. Actually, it's most it. There's not much I don't share on here! It explains what went on and how I was feeling in those first three days out of hospital without me having to write it all up again.

19 August 2013

Dear Mum and Dad

The last four days have been quite strange in both good and bad ways. Nothing seems ‘back to normal’ but it’s not all negative, there’s been a lot of positive change, which we were all hoping for I guess. I've only been out of the hospital for three days and I still feel really fragile.

While the medication change has been worth it there are some side effects that aren't great, the worst one being that lithium causes a slight tremor so I'm kind of shaky all the time. Sometimes it isn't noticeable, eg when out for a big walk (which I've started doing regularly) or watching telly (rather than staring at my laptop being unproductive I've been getting back into my shows), but typing on this keyboard or texting on my phone can be quite challenging at times.

Like I told you in my text message Saturday was the hardest day so far. I was so shaky and nervous about seeing Noo after a week of not seeing him that when I arrived at Yo’s house I burst into tears. Noo was so happy to see me. You know how chatty and happy he is normally, well times that by 100 and you can imagine what he was like.

We hung out with Yo and Cal for a little while as Mala had her midday nap. Noo was constantly asking for food to eat. It felt really strange. Callum made him a ham and cheese toasty which I shared with him. Noo's aunt and uncle are very stern with him and he is not allowed to leave the table when eating. Even fruit comes after main meal because it is considered a sweet treat! Seems to have worked, whatever they have done, because the kid has got an appetite and he's stopped being such a fussy eater!

Yo had promised Noo that I would take him for a chocolate shake at the café around the corner and then to the local playground. Noo scooted while I walked along. He was just so happy. Oh my god, the talking! He’s language skills have improved ten-fold as he relays stories of what had been happening while I was away. When we got to the cafe we shared a banana bread with Pepe Sayer butter and strawberry jam and Noo had his shake and I had a coffee. He said please and thank you and was just lovely to be with – just so different with me from before I ‘went away’.

I was still so shaky and nervous about doing the right thing though. I don't want to fuck up all the good work they've done by giving Noo more structure and routine to his life, something I've always struggled with.

We went to the park and Noo enjoyed a huge turn on the swing and then the slide. I sat and watched and tried not to be over anxious about him falling or whatever. There were a lot of other kids in the playground and it took an effort for me to not stress about them being mean to him. Of course they weren't going to be, it was just my own fear from when I was a child. I didn't realise just how much of my own childhood anxiety I have been transferring on to him. And anyway, if they had been mean, Noo probably would have handled it differently to me because he is such a confident kid.

When we finally got back to Yo’s place I was worn out. I just needed to be alone for a bit and so had to say goodbye but Noo kept trying all these distraction tactics to keep me there. I felt so bad leaving. He was crying with his little hands reaching out of the front gate but I just had to get into the car and not look back. It was a hideous experience.

Saturday night, back home alone, I was determined to pull my shit together and get him back the next day, despite having said I'd take another week off to be alone to sort out the apartment and work out our new routine. I'm so glad I made that decision! He is just amazing. I'm so happy we are back together and so is he. And he keeps telling anyone who will listen – “My mummy and I are back together! Isn't that great?”

On Sunday I met up with Yo, Cal, Mala and Noo at Marrickville Markets where the sun was shining and we all worried about getting sunburnt. We are having the warmest August which is lovely. We hung out on the grass near where the pony rides are until Mala started getting tired.

“I'm just so glad we are back together Mummy!”

Next job was to transfer the car seat from the Volvo to the Subaru with Noo and all his clothes. Noo and I then headed back to the apartment and he was happy to be back in his own home. He chatted non-stop all the way, saying “I'm just so glad we are back together Mummy!” over and over. My heart filled with so much emotion it was hard to not cry - for the joy of being back together and for the sadness of having to leave him in the first place. I am still so emotionally sensitive that it doesn't take me much to start crying. I have to use all the skills I relearnt in hospital to distract myself in order to stay in control of my emotions.

We hung out for a while and Noo ate all the sandwich he requested: Ham and American mustard on sourdough while watching Escape from Planet Earth. I’d already had the most delicious pulled pork with coleslaw and crackling roll at the markets. Only $9 and oh so good. I hadn't had breakfast so got the roll when I arrived at 10.30am and there was no queue. By the time we left at 11.30 people had already queuing for it. Noo and I will have to take you there one weekend when you get back. I'm salivating just thinking about that thing!

We went back out to the shops later in the afternoon. When we arrived at centre we jumped on board the lift heading for level 2. I said the usual “press number two, Noo” but the other person in the lift had already pressed it. Rather than crack it and give the angry look, Noo said to the man, “thank you for pressing two for us”. I was fucking gobsmacked! Talk about manners!

We checked out the new frozen yogurt place and shared a huge yogurt, trying all the flavours. Then we went into the arcade game place and played air hockey and it was a draw. Noo then said he was hungry again so I said lets go for dinner on the sushi train. I was hungry too as it was 5pm by this time and I had not eaten anything since that delicious roll at 10.30.

We sat up on the train and Noo ate his whole plate of tuna rolls, some raw salmon from my plate and most of the edamame with piles of ginger and soy sauce. He even tried a little wasabi!

Next stop was BiLo and we each had to have a basket with identical contents. I said he could get one Kinder Surprise Egg for his dessert and he also got a small chocolate milk which he finished in the car on the way home. There were no arguments trying to get more treats than were already offered.

By the time we got home, with shower and dinner already done for the day, Noo enjoyed some time with his own iPad while I did a few jobs around the apartment. I’m telling you mum and dad, the happiness emanating from this child is amazing! He was a bit wound up so getting him into bed at the time Yo was managing just wasn't going to happen. Instead of 7.50pm bedtime he was in bed by 8.20 and lights out at 8.35 with only a few arguments. Can’t complain about that! So much better than his old 9.30-10pm bedtime, that is for sure.

Getting ready Monday morning was also pretty easy. He was up before 7am and asked to watch a movie while eating the breakfast that he made for himself (nutella on sourdough with a bowl of strawberries). I resisted the movie as Yo had said no screens in the morning. After a while I thought, fuck it, and told him he could watch some cartoons but no long movies or iPad. I had to shower and wash my hair so I had to give him something.

We got to school by 9am. Before we left, when we got to the lobby Noo says “Hello Terry and Joel! Look! Mummy and I are back together again!” It brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it! Actually, I'm bawling, but don't be alarmed. Joel and Terry were really happy to see us and Terry high fived Noo for us being ‘back together again’.

At preschool, it was the same thing from Noo. As soon as we were through the gate he was telling everyone. I stayed for a little while because Noo just wanted to show me off because I was home from hospital. One of the boys asked why I'd been in hospital and Noo answered that it was because he didn't go to bed early enough. I was really surprised and tried to say no way was it his fault! He changed the subject pretty quickly but I will have to address that with him later. I do not want him thinking it is his fault that I am unwell.

Mala heard my voice from the nursery and was trying to get my attention. OMG! She is so funny. She’s lost that baby look and has started to look more like a toddler. She’s started to get quite long. She'd dragged herself to the gate, had her legs all the way out pointing over at us. I went over to her side and gave her a cuddle but she kept pointing at Noo saying “Neh, Neh!”. The both of them are so gorgeous together. Noo really didn't want me to leave but I didn't want to be disruptive so by about 10am I was finally out the gate. I then went for a big walk around the Harbour which will brighten anyone's mood.

Well, that’s enough for today. Not much else to tell you. Hope you are having a wonderful holiday.

Love
V.

Floggin my bloggin With Some Grace

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