Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Zombies ate my blojo

Hey Blogger.com! Hey Reader!

I'm here. Sort of. If you follow me on Instagram you'll know I'm still alive and kicking. I've written heaps of posts. Heaps I tell you! But not down on paper or on the screen. In my head. Late at night. Then by morning light those posts have all been deleted. Cruelty, I know. For me and for you. Because they were brilliant bits of writing I tells ya!


From the brilliant theoatmeal.com


Noo (Mr five going on thirty!) and I have been pretty busy. School holidays were a blast. And we survived six whole weeks with my parents overseas. Sole parenting without extended family is hard but not impossible I've discovered. I cried a lot the first week. Worked myself into a bit of an anxiety induced fervour over how I was going to get through almost two months alone. There was a lot of catastrophising and gnashing of teeth and black and white thinking. Oh, the drama!

And then something happened. I can't talk about that event here. I was basically left with the option to fall apart or get my shit together for both me and Noo. I chose the latter and you know what? We not only survived - we thrived!

OK, I'll admit that doesn't mean all my problems disappeared and there weren't any issues while I fended for myself. No, no. Of course there were ups and downs - I'm a single mum with an anxiety disorder! I spent way too much money for starters. Noo and I went out every second or third day and we probably over indulged by going to the movies four times and to the Royal Easter Show and we did eat out a bit.

My sleep could be better, I'll be honest. I can fake it 'til I make it when I'm awake but at night the subconscious takes over and anxiety permeates my dreamscape. That is unless two little orange pills take the reigns and help ease me into a dreamless slumber that I only wish I could have every night.

I'm still avoiding social situations unless its with people I really know well and who know me well. We had visitors from Brisbane and London come and stay in the city with us and we took friends to my folk's place in the Blue Mountains. I don't know why I always seem to forget how lovely real human contact is. Not that my online connections aren't lovely, but you know what I mean.

Holed up safely in my beautiful home with all it's comforts really cannot replace being with other people one on one. There was one period during the holidays that I realised I'd gone ten days without talking to an adult who wasn't either a waiter or sales assistant. That kind of made me sad and also tremendously grateful for the visitors we did have.

I haven't been spending too much time at my desk over the last few months. I've been knitting. It's my new obsession! Knitting and catching up on some of the most entertaining, bingeable TV series. They say mastering a new skill is great for mindfulness, positive psychology, anxiety, etc. I think they are right! Focusing on learning a new skill and completing a project has really given me confidence and helped quieten my chatty remunating brain. I highly recommend it.

That's all I've got for now. Back to knitting and watching the season two finale of The Walking Dead.


If you didn't already know, "blojo" is short for blogging mojo.
And zombies ate mine. Rick Grimes, you can come save me anytime!


V.






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Monday, March 17, 2014

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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Sunday, February 23, 2014

Anxiety: Out of financial control

It is Sunday afternoon and Noo and I have spent our third weekend in a row at home. That is we came home from school Friday and have not left the apartment since.

Since Noo started big school he's turned into a boy who likes to lounge around and play with his screens all weekend. It's not really healthy, I guess, but with no cash in the bank it is kind of a relief for me. I don't need to deal with a kid begging to go out and spend money.

All my life I've lived from payday to payday. I've never saved a penny but I've paid off tens of thousands of dollars worth of debt, which is kind of like saving but you get the goods first (and hand out a shit load of interest).

I hate living like this but I don't know any other way. This pay, my dad and I are going to try a new system. One where he will basically hold my spending money and doll out a weekly allowance to me. I have my doubts, but I need to try something.


Out of financial control - image source


You'd think that a 39 year old shouldn't have the need to have her parents control her cash. When I was in hospital last year, spending five weeks in the depression unit, I met many others like me; grown ups who needed other grown ups to take care of their finances.

I'm sure it is quite common for people with addictions to need help this way. I guess to stop them spending their money on their vices. I've also met people with bipolar who need help managing their money, especially when manic.

Simply, I have little self control when it comes to cash. While I've been sober nearly six years, and I don't even crave drink, drugs or even cigarettes, I do love to shop. I have a wardrobe full of (cheap) clothes I've never worn. Some still have labels on them and some have only ventured out once or twice. I don't go anywhere so there's really no need to dress up.

I don't work so you might be wondering why I have any money at all. I wrote a post about it years ago that you can check out here. Basically I've been on salary continuance insurance since my breakdown in 2007. I have a very generous policy that I paid a premium towards during the seven years I was working with my last employer. This was the company from which I attempted to walk home one fateful Friday night before being taken, against my will (I assume - I have very little recollection of how I got there), to a stranger's flat and raped (you can read about all that here).

I'm still considered a 'low income earner' as far as the Tax Office is concerned but I don't qualify for a healthcare card or single parents' benefit. I get a tiny bit of Family Tax Benefit A and B (Aussies will know what I'm talking about here). I'm not pissed off about that because I know I'm very lucky to be in this position, unlike the majority of single mums unable to work for one reason or another, who are really doing it tough on just what the government provides.

I live with my parents in a really nice apartment. It is so awesome now Noo and I have finally got our own rooms after sharing for the last five years. We are so lucky my parents are happy for Noo and me to live here for the foreseeable future. This is necessary for us both financially and health wise as I don't think I could cope with the loneliness of living by ourselves.

I pay my father board and contribute towards bills. I have a personal loan and I'm on a rental plan for my laptop. My mobile bill is considerable because of the data allowance I use, as any blogger with Facebook, Twitter and Instagram accounts would understand. I have top private health insurance which is an astounding amount of money every month but with my health I would never give it up.

I always pay my bills on time and Noo and I really do not need anything (except food) yet I always seem to be scrounging for cash.

Money is one of the main fuels for my anxiety. Money and food, or should I say, my negative body image, are the areas of my life that I worry about most (other than being a good mother). The body image stuff I'm trying to get over using the Health At Every Size approach. It is working a little bit. That's for another post.

At the beginning of the pay month, when I'm flush, I'm anxious to buy something nice because I've usually gone three long weeks without much cash to play with. I'm anxious because I know I shouldn't buy anything (like clothes or toys) but I desperately want something new. Often when I make a purchase, it is done with the same compulsivity that I used to seek out cocaine back in the day. The blinkers go up to block out all reason. Fuck it, I think to myself, I deserve this [insert item here].

But like when I eat junk, spending my money on unnecessary things just makes me feel worse. As my cash starts running out, and it's weeks until my next pay, my anxiety flares while I worry about how we will survive. I wrote about my insufficient self control schema (or my self saboteur) early last year. Living with a highly addictive personality in this day and age of want it/need it/have it now, I fall prey to cheap consumerism way too easily.

I just want to snap out of it. Wake up and find that a frugal/thrifty/financially responsible grown up resides in my body. But that's not going to happen. I have to work at this.

I wrote a post about money management last year which won a blogging competition. Ha! I should follow my own advice. But why are the things that we want to change the most the hardest?


Are you a spender or a saver? Got any financial advice for me? 

If you used to be a spendaholic like me but have changed your ways, please get in touch. 


V.


PS If someone writes a comment like "first world problems" I might cry. Of course I've got "first world problems" - I live in the frigging first world. Which is lucky. In the Lucky Country, even.









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Monday, February 17, 2014

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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Monday, February 10, 2014

Words don't come easy

Words don't come easy to me
How can I find a way
To make you see
I love you
Words don't come easy
    F. R. David, 1982





I know this is such a daggy song but it always comes to my mind when I go to write a blog post and nothing comes out. And this is how I feel right now: The words don't come easy. They are there. The words. My head is swirling with them. Getting them out on the page screen is just so hard at the moment.

Maybe it is this new medication I'm taking for my headaches. It's called topiramate. One of its common side effects is "expressive language disorder". It's brand name is Topamax which has been given the unflattering nickname of Dopamax because it can make some people seem a bit, well, dopey.

I don't feel so dopey. I feel ok so far, just not overly motivated to write, despite my recent declaration that my blog was back.

One thing that I have decided is that I don't want my blog to make me feel guilty - I have so much guilt about other areas of my life. My blog is supposed to make me feel good. I don't want to fight for page clicks or Google rankings or comments or sponsors. I'll keep that little video ad on the right over there but I'm not looking for more advertisers.

I don't think I want to write about products right now but if something really relevant comes my way and I can be bothered, maybe. But I don't want to be stressed about it. I've had a sponsored post hanging over my head since before I went into hospital last year. The PR person has been awesome in not pressuring me to get out a post, considering the brand did send me the product, but I've felt really awkward about how to deal with it now.

Would it look and feel weird if I publish it now? I should, shouldn't I? Oh, I feel like a naughty school girl who hasn't handed in her homework. So unprofessional! But I've had other priorities, you know like staying alive and looking after my kid and getting my head in a functioning order.

The update on that (my head) is that it is functioning (despite the topiramate) and my mood is definitely a hell of a lot more stable than last year but I'm still not 100% (whatever that looks like). I have good days, bad days. Some days the anxiety just overwhelms me and it hurts me in such a physical way. Like a block of cement is laying on my chest and the back of my eyeballs are jittering and I just have to wait it out until it passes.

Yesterday was one of those days. I kept busy all day. I actually did housework. Vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom. For fucksake, I IRONED. I haven't ironed anything since 2007. I kind of understood why some people with anxiety, like my best friend, have to be doing stuff all the time. It sort of keeps your mind off the fluttering in your chest but it doesn't make it go away. I want it to go away forever.

There's nothing to be worried about of course. Noo loves big school. I have a little bit of money in the bank. My weight is going down but I'm not really obsessing about that at the moment anyway. I'm sleeping ok. Walking lots. Reading book four of Game of Thrones before the new season starts on the telly.

But that's Generalised Anxiety Disorder for you. It's GENERALISED.

It's ANNOYING.

Someone once told me "resistance is persistance". I just have to embrace my anxiety in order for it to go away. My current panic attack mantra is "I have anxiety and that is ok". I say it over and over. It works to some degree because rather than fighting it I'm learning to sit with it.

Learning to stay, as Pema Chodron would say.

And, would you look at that: Looks like I've found a few words to say too.

How are you going today?

V.













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Thursday, October 31, 2013

Who am I?

So my last post was a little rude. Lots of swear words, lots of finger pointing, lots of anger.

I really don't like being like that. Swearing? Whatever! I actually do enjoy throwing out the odd expletive, but I really dislike being angry. When I'm in that mood I become childlike. Actually, teenage-like.

Angst ridden, emo, woe is me, everybody hates me and the world is working against me in a conspiracy to make my life a living misery.

From my psych who won't seem to listen to me regarding the medication I know is not helping me, to the stupid blood taking woman who had to weave around my veins that morning looking for an entry point to get some blood to test the levels of the antidepressant I didn't want to take in the first place.

To make matters worse, after I came back here to my glorious new haven (commonly known as MY room I share with NO ONE!), I wrote that anger filled post and then went to bed and sulked all day, fantasizing about my death that would cause everyone else all the misery I was feeling. You know, just to get all those conspiring against me back!

I woke only to gorge on a whole packet of those overly delicious new Tim Tam Chocolicious Bites for lunch and then went straight back to sleep again.


Yum! (unsponsored)


When I finally did get out of bed it was only when my mum text me at 4.09pm with a "Where are you?". I was fuming! I'd been MIA all fucking day and only now they were looking for me? I could have been at the pub or lying in a pool of my own blood for all they knew.

Ugh! No one takes my tantrums seriously these days!

So off I storm, to the apartment next door, where my parents live (until we put the two apartments together and we all live in one apartment again). Cried my eyes out while dad hugged me as I wailed "There's something seriously wrong with me Daddy!".

I then grabbed my iPhone and sent an email to my psychiatrist with a link to my abusive post and told my parents I was going off all my meds.

"I need to know who the real me is", I cried!

Because that is what it comes down to. While I can look back and write a mildly funny post about it now, at the time I was in a living breathing hell. Mental illness with all its ups and downs suck big time.


Who the fuck am I?


Pumped full of medication that alters my mood (nortriptyline), my ability to concentrate (methylphenidate), my ability to digest food without getting heartburn (rabeprazole), handle anxiety (diazapamquetiapine) and sleep (temazepam), how am I to know exactly who I am?


Who am I?
No filters, no make up (ok my eyelashes are tinted and my hair is bleached),
and I'm cutting back on the meds. 


So I'm getting off all the drugs.

Except the Pariet (rabeprazole). I've tried to get off that before and the old lady heartburn comes back with avengence! And it ain't pretty.

I stopped taking sleeping tablets weeks ago so that is easy. I haven't had any Valium (diazepam) or a Seroquel (quetiapine) since the weekend and I've been going without the Concerta (methylphenidate or Ritalin (in slow release form) as it's more commonly known) since I ran out on Monday.

Antidepressants should never been stopped abruptly so I'm slowly weening off that one. I'm down from 100mg to 75mg and will be down to zero by the time I have my next psych appointment in a week's time.

Right now it is nearly 11am. I slept soundly from about 10.30 last night until Noo came and woke me at about 7.55am. The morning rush to get him to school was OK because his Grandpa is taking him down there in the morning which relieves me of a lot of stress.

So far I feel pretty good.

Yesterday I started an eight week "Mindfulness for Stress Reduction" course at the hospital I hang out out at get treated at. I want to learn how to find that window, or fork in the road, or whatever cliche you want to use, where I get to choose.

I've lived most of my life from one impulse to the next. Blinkers are firmly in place as I reach for the decision that is going to make me feel good right now. The future doesn't exist in my world when it comes to making choices. That is until later when I worry about all the bad choices I have made and my anxiety flares out of control because I've paid no mind to the effect those choices have on the future.

I'm hoping mindfulness meditation will help me find the STOP button which will in turn give me a look in the window of choice or down the forks in the road that offer different paths to choose from therefore giving me the wisdom to make better decisions.

Crikey! Am I making any sense here?

I'm not just talking about the impulse to buy another black dress or to eat that block of chocolate. I'm also talking about emotion regulation as well.

I'm hoping mindfulness will help me find some inner peace.

Fuck, another cliche!

I'm getting outta here before I crack out yet another one.

Mindfulness be with you!

What do you do to quieten your mind?
Got any tips for this impulsive anxious little soul?


V.






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Tuesday, October 29, 2013

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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Sunday, September 29, 2013

Three ace ways to distract yourself from depression

If you haven't noticed on my blog or on any of the other online places I haunt, I've been going through a pretty shit time. In medical terms I'm currently suffering from major depression combined with a shitload of adverse side effects from the medications I've been prescribed. Woohoo!

My life has been like clenching onto the side of a cliff with white knuckled determination not to fall into the abyss. It's been fucking hard work, and my hands are cracked and bleeding, but there's way too much good shit on top of that mountain. So much to fight for. Everything to live for.

I'm in hospital right now. At this moment I'm feeling ok but there have been moments in the last week where I've cried so much I've been almost inconsolable.

"Why are you so upset?" the well meaning psych nurses ask.

"Is there something your [doctor, family, group therapist] said to trigger you?" they want to know.

"You're not going to hurt yourself, are you? You are feeling safe... right?"

Yes! I'm safe from harm. This much I know is true.

But no! Nothing has triggered the flood of tears. I'm just fucking crying! I want to scream it at the world. I just don't know why I'm crying. The tears come out of my eyes as my heart is squeezed by the black hands of an unnamed doom.

The brain is a wondrous yet ill understood organ. My doctors don't know what's wrong with mine. They can't give me a neat little diagnosis. They don't know what pills to put me on so it feels like they are giving them all a go. One drug at a time, sometimes two.

Over these almost five months since the Black Dog came to take residence in my soul I've found a few cool ways to distract myself from his howling. I thought I'd share them with you. Don't tease me because I've been partaking in a fair bit of low brow entertainment. It's just for cheap laughs!


Big Brother


I love this show! (picture source)
OMG! I love this show. I've watched every episode from day one and I can't get enough. Weekends are hell because the show doesn't air on Saturday and Sunday!

Watching these Gen-Ys bitch and moan and scheme and backstab each other is so much fun! I feel so involved in their lives. I've cried at times while watching BB. I usually never cry at TV shows or movies! And how hot are Ed and Drew? OMG! Such eye candy. Some of the girls are pretty hot too.

Even Noo has got into it. Although he doesn't really understand what's going on. Noo just likes the characters that are nice to people. Noo's favourite is Drew and my favourites are Tim and Ben. Tim and Ben are not boring pretty boys there to be ogled - they actually have really interesting personalities and don't feel the need to conform in order to fit in. I like that. Tim is a bit of a schemer and you could say he has a bit of a nasty side, but at least he tries to stir things up in the house. Makes for much better entertainment for us watching at home.

I know the show is quite mindless but such a great distraction from the guilt and negativity whirling around in my head. It really is a worthwhile escape. I miss them all like mad on the weekends. Seriously. Noo says after the 6pm news every day "It's nearly Big Brother time!" and is devo'ed when I have to break it to him that it's Saturday so no BB.

Goodness knows what we will do when the whole season is over. Noo and I wish we could go to the final eviction. Won't happen. Maybe next year!


Candy Crush Saga


So addictive! (picture source)
Talk about addictive! For a long time I saw Facebook requests from friends asking me for 'lives' or publishing notifications of how they'd cracked another level. I saw status updates from friends expressing their frustration at not being able to pass up to the next 'episode'.

I resisted for as long as I could. Knowing my addictive nature I thought CCS could have the potential to take over my life. I've not been that wrong!

It was actually my Shrink who said I should play CCS as a way to distract myself from negative self-talk. It definitely works but crushing those bloody candies can also distract you from other things like - blogging, household chores, sleep....


Cat memes on Pinterest


Even when I'm feeling 100% shit just having a scroll through Pinterest cat memes can crack me up. This sort of thing would usually not make me laugh but for some reason these days cats make me LOL!

You can't tell me these aren't funny....


Hilarious... right?



So what do you think about my depression distraction methods? Funny ha ha or funny it's a good idea you're in the crazy house again Vanessa?


How do you cheer yourself up when you're feeling blue?



V.


Disclaimer: Clearly I am no doctor! I have had no training in the treatment of people with mental illness. This is just a post about what helps me sometimes forget my woes. I make no promises that anything I have said above will help anyone. In fact it could hurt you. For all I know you may be allergic to cats. 




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Wednesday, September 11, 2013

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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Wednesday, September 4, 2013

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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Friday, August 23, 2013

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.








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Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Putting the pieces of me back together

Saturday 10 August 2013


So I don't know what to write or even why I should but my fingers are so shaky it just feels like they need to be doing something. How many times can I tidy up my room? I could go for a walk on this beautiful sunny day but my legs aren't shakey, its my hands and my wrists. They need some action. My brain is a little hesitant though. The meds are making it difficult for me to write coherently but I'll do my best anyway.

I've been in hospital for just over a week now. I still feel really weird being here even though I've been here before so the surroundings are not new. My meds are changing all the time which causes all manner of confusion. The first couple of days I was in I just slept. I was admitted on the Friday and weekends are really quiet in psych hospitals. No group therapy just time and lots of it.

The kids were kind enough to pass on their cold to me (sarcasm) so spending the first couple of days sleeping on off without too much disruption didn't bother me at all. I do feel so guilty about what impact my breakdown has on my family. Everyone of us has had to shift around responsibilities in order to make it work for me to be here to sort out why mood has become so erratic. 

Noo has moved in with my sister Yolanda, her husband and little Mala. Yo and Cal's family has grown from three to four over night and Noo is living in a "normal" family unit for the first time. There are rules and routines at Rancho Relaxo and I've heard that Noo is responding really well to the new regime.

Routine reigns here in hospital as well and I really like not having to think about what comes next in the day. There's no one really to pester me about what we are going to do today, when can we do it... all those questions kids ask all the time. I want. I need. Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. Ad nauseum.

Still I've cried a lot in here. The different meds, the different surroundings, sights and sounds all add to the whirley burley going on in my mind. I'm shaky then agitated then bawling my eyes out. Sometimes I feel like I can sleep forever, others I feel like I could run a mile.

I miss my boy so much. The umbilical cord has remained firmly attached for so long that not being with him for such a long time is so difficult yet this break is just what I have needed. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing this not just for myself but for him. I was not being a great mum before I got to this point where I find myself an inpatient for possibly five weeks my doctor has warned (since I wrote this my time has been reduced to two to three weeks. I'm getting better baby!). I worry about what the long term absence has on little Noo. My parents have also gone away for a long time so there have been a lot of changes for a little boy of four and a half to process.

Noo has come to visit a couple of times already but the goodbyes get more painful each time. Today we were both crying on the street, unable to let each other go. How can you explain to a kid that this isn't forever? A day, a week, a month... are such long, long expanses of time for a preschooler.

On the flipside I've got my own room for the first time in nearly five years. I didn't realise how sharing a little room with my kid (and twice a week my niece as well) was having an impact on me. This room I'm in has an ensuite and a larger space than our room at home. It has a flatscreen TV, plus I have all my iGadgets and laptop with me. I keep tidying it and straightening things up before sitting down in the bed to watch TV or read or snooze. Having my own space is wonderful despite nurses popping their heads in every so often to check I'm ok.


Cluttered room/cluttered mind  -  a single room for 10 days is just what I needed
-  not enjoying the shared situation but it's nearly home time


There's only been one rainy day since I've been here which is great. Nothing better for the mood than a walk on a sunny day. There's a huge community park right by the hospital which is a lovely place to walk around and also has a playing field and kids playground. 

My goal while I'm here is to find my peaceful mind again. I also want to regain those life skills from previous in- and outpatient group therapy programs that I seemed to have forgotten along the way somehow.

I want to learn, and have the confidence to, set goals that are achievable and give me strength. I need to find the capable mother within me that doesn't bawl her eyes out at being asked "can I've a lollipop" for the fiftieth time and then begs her own mother to deal with it; the Vanessa whose heart doesn't start pounding with fear at the thought of a whole day out in public with kids in tow.

I know I'm in here somewhere. It's now just a matter of wading through the facts, thoughts, emotions and chemicals to find the real me again.

Finally, I want to thank those of you who wrote lovely words of support and encouragement on my last post. They really mean a lot to me so thank you.

Here's to the future!

V.

PS: I wrote this a couple of days ago. I'm feeling better with each day that passes now my medication has settled down. Even made that little picture for you! The next couple of days will be more group therapy and more planning my return home. I'm feeling really good about the future again and getting home to my beautiful boy.





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Thursday, August 1, 2013

This blog is going on a little, ahem... holiday

I was just going to disappear, figuring no one would notice anyway.

I was going to allow myself some privacy and slip away quietly.

But then I remembered my blog's mission: to help break down the stigma of mental illness. To speak openly and to not hide in shame of the fact that I'm not coping at all.

Tomorrow I'm going back into hospital. Hopefully for just a week to sort out my meds, have a break from the daily routines of life, get away from my screens.

The thought of leaving Noo breaks my heart. My parents are like his parents and I'm sure he'll be ok. My motherly instincts are burning in pain. I feel like I'm neglecting him, losing him, setting him up for sadness in his future...

I'm just so tired of crying. I'm so tired of feeling like my skin is as thin as paper, easily torn with the slightest of triggers. The blackest sludge lives within me and leaks out in streams of tears and negativity. How did it get there? Where did it come from?

There are moments of lightness which confuse me. How could I feel OK one minute and so fucked up the next? How is my brain even capable of such rapid changes?

I don't think I have anything else to say. My tiny stats will plummet, any obligations I have to advertisers, PRs, etc will just have to wait.

I'm putting myself first.

Next time I post it's gonna be a cracker. Happy and full of hope.

I'm doing all I can to make sure that happens.



V.



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