My brain is driving me crazy... literally

I've been going over and over in my head various topics I want to write about. I don't know about other bloggers but my mind is in a perpetual cycle of blog titles. Like when I'm in the shower I might have some brilliant blog topic going around in my head: as I'm standing under the warm water the first para is written, a witty eye catching title has been formulated. But then I turn off the shower, grab my towel, get on with the day and the thought is gone, laid to rest in the black caverns of my mind along with the bones of other awesome ideas.

The general theme of course is me. I don't ever forget that. This is my blog after all. This virtual dumping ground for the ideas that actually make it into coherent sentences in my little corner of the interwebs. Because of that it disappoints me that my posts are so negative these days. But, as I've read a million times around the blogosphere, we must write "our truth" in order to be authentic. My truth is pretty shitty right now and I apologise for that.

This post has been written for about a week. It's been sitting here in draft on an open browser tab. I've been umming and ahhing as to whether I should bother publishing it at all. Who benefits? Me? I don't know. I'm certainly not writing it in the hunt for sympathy. Maybe my motive is just to document this supremely shit emotional and physical state I'm in. I guess I could just copy and paste it into a Word doc and save it on my hard drive should I ever want to be reminded of this time of my life again. Because this too shall pass.

Maybe there's someone else out there that has similar symptoms. Mental illness sucks hard. The doctors don't know how each medication is going to work on each patient. Or which cocktail of medications is the right one. It's a game of pharmacological hit and miss. Quite frankly I'm sick of riding the pharmacoaster!

Source

Ok, so without further ado, here my list of complaints or symptoms which both my GP and psychiatrist think are probably caused by the meds I'm currently on in combination with clinical depression.

• Headaches that are mainly around the top of my scalp. To touch my scalp is very uncomfortable. To move my hair around sends shooting pain through my scalp and into my head. I feel like I'm wearing a skull cap lined with spikes.

• Brain buzzes. Last time I had these symptoms I was on a massive dose of the antidepressant Effexor while suffering acute postpartum thyroid disease. My thyroid was processing the antidepressant so fast causing withdrawal like effects. Back then the symptoms eventually stopped once I was taken off the Effexor. I haven't taken an antidepressant for four weeks so why have I got this very unsettling sensation every. single. day? Every time I move my head it feels like a Star Wars light sabre has passed through my brain. I got that analogy from a medical forum from others suffering similar sensations. None of them had received an adequate diagnosis from medical specialists.

• Dizziness, vertigo, nausea. The brain buzzes make me very dizzy if they happen while I'm walking/standing. It's getting worse every day. I feel like I'm walking on skates almost 100% of the time. When it's bad it's terrifying. I can feel the ground move beneath me in a sideways and up and down motion. It's freaky and completely unnerving.

• Sensitivity to loud noises. Not ideal when you've got a almost five year old boy!

• Jumpiness. Feeling on edge all the time. I flinch at loud noises, people touching me unexpectedly, that sort of thing.

• Anxiety. I've always got that at some level it's just worse right now.

• Aggression. Outbursts of screaming and crying so fierce I think I might pass out from the pressure it creates in my head. Poor Noo has been the receiver of such bad behaviour from me which makes me feel extremely sad and guilty.

• Loss of sensory perception. I am not allowed to drive a car at the moment. I had three really close calls in the car over the weekend that scared the crap out of me. I vagued out and almost didn't brake in time before hitting the car stopped at the lights in front of me. My sense of distance feels warped. Things, like cars, seem further away than they really are.

• I'm still extraordinarily emotional. This is why I went into the hospital six weeks ago. Even with the change of medication I'm still crying at the drop of a hat. Or at watching with pride as my son makes friends so easily at his new big school open day. Or in fear as I watch my 21 month old niece negotiate the steps in her backyard. Hell I bawled when Ben from Big Brother got to re-enter the Big Brother House!

• My weight has ballooned out and I've gained 10 kg since May. That's 50% of all the weight I lost since having a $9,000 lapband installed in 2010. Let's talk about some of the emotions around this: failure, fear, defectiveness, disgust... 

That's about it, I think. Awesome, hey. My psychiatrist is baffled. I've started seeing a new psychologist that works with people with eating disorders and body image issues. I know I've got to address the deep dislike I have for myself and my body as well as find out what the fuck is wrong with me physically. What I'm feeling can't be a case of the moody blues! My doctors know that.

The next step? It's back to hospital I go where they'll keep juggling the chemical cocktail that is suppose to fix me. I'm waiting for a bed. Monday is the likely admission day. The hospital I go to is quite a nice place, considering. Going there isn't what makes me sad. Leaving my son is. I know that I have to get better so I can be a better parent for him but still it breaks my heart.

There has to be a turnaround soon.

V.

Floggin my bloggin With Some Grace

SUBSCRIBE NOW! Enter your email address to receive
babblingbandit.me posts direct to your inbox:


Delivered by FeedBurner

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.

SUBSCRIBE NOW! Enter your email address to receive
babblingbandit.me posts direct to your inbox:


Delivered by FeedBurner

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.

SUBSCRIBE NOW! Enter your email address to receive
babblingbandit.me posts direct to your inbox:


Delivered by FeedBurner

Talk to me: What does a contributing life mean to you?

"Check this out", I said to my mum a couple of weeks ago.

I slid the printout of an invitation I'd been emailed across the kitchen table to her.

It was inviting me to a morning tea hosted by the National Mental Health Commissioners Janet Meagher and Jackie Crowe as part of the Commission's Contributing Life Conversations Project.

"We are keen to hear your thoughts on what 'A Contributing Life' means to you..." said the invitation.

Me?

"Why the hell would these important people want to hear what I had to say?" I asked mum.

"I haven't had a paid job in nearly six years. How can I talk about a 'contributing life'?"

My initial response was to not accept the invitation. I'd already said yes to another blogger function about working with brands anyway.

Days went by and I checked out the Commission's website again and looked further into the initiative. The more I read the more I realised that I had to go. The fact that my first thought was that I don't contribute anything to life meant it was really important for me to go as a sufferer of a mental illness and as a blogger with a voice.

And there it was: A blogger with a voice. A tiny voice in this massive blogosphere, but a voice nonetheless. Here is where I make a contribution.

Of course I contribute in a lot of other ways too. I am a mum to a beautiful little boy. That's one hell of a contribution right there! And that's what the Contributing Life Project is all about. Getting a group together - family, friends, neighbours, work colleagues - and sitting down to have a chat about how we all want a meaningful life, whether we have mental health issues or not.

The Commission is encouraging people to meet up between 22 July and 11 August to discuss the four following questions:

Question 1: What's important to you in having a meaningful life?

Question 2: What helps you to have a meaningful life?

Question 3: What gets in the way?

Question 4: What would make the biggest difference to your life (top 3 things)?

If you would like to host your own event further details of the initiative and event packs are on the Commission's website but I thought I'd host a "Contributing Life Conversation" right here in my space and you're invited. I'd love to know what gives your life meaning and purpose. I've certainly got a new understanding of my own sense of purpose since thinking about the above questions.

If you feel comfortable answering any or all of these questions, I'd love it if you'd type your answers in the comments section below (or email me if you want to keep them private). I can then collate the answers, anonymously of course, and send them on to the National Mental Health Commission. They will then use the information to gain a better understanding of what can be done to help drive meaningful improvement for the mental health and wellbeing of all Australians.

So will you talk to me?

V.

SUBSCRIBE NOW! Enter your email address to receive
babblingbandit.me posts direct to your inbox:


Delivered by FeedBurner

Linking up with the #IBOT crew at Essentially Jess.

Mental health: What about the children?

What must it feel like to see your mum break down in tears for no apparent reason in the middle of a public place in a city you don't know?

What must it feel like to have your usually fun mum constantly say to you "get off me", "get away from me", "stop harassing me", "leave me alone", when all you want as a little four year old is to get closer and try to help?

I try to be conscious of my mood swings and how they might be affecting Noo, both now and the ramifications of the indelible mark they could make on him into the future. Sometimes, actually a lot of the time lately, it is too hard to control: I just burst into tears or scream for him to get off me!

The photo above seems highly narcissistic (don't all selfies?), but whatever. It is taken in a shopping centre in Melbourne where Noo and I managed to get a doctor's appointment because I could feel myself on the brink of a massive public breakdown. I had tears in my eyes as I asked the receptionist for an appointment. I took the photo to check my makeup hadn't smudged too much. Thank fuck for good quality cosmetics!

We had to wait one hour for the appointment. We killed a little time in Big W downstairs and then came back to the waiting room of the large medical centre. Noo was playing nice and quietly until another boy came by and wanted to play with him. All fine except the other little boy was quite boisterous, and despite me asking both kids to quieten down the other kid continued to be rowdy in the area where sick people were waiting to be seen. It wasn't until the office manager of the surgery came out and told the boys off that they calmed down a bit.

With this whole scene unfolding my anxiety levels were rising. The mother of the other kid made absolutely no attempt to quieten her child down. Her kid was about seven years old to Noo's four and should have known better. My heart raced as I desperately looked around begging some imaginary god in my head that my name would be called so we could get the fuck out of there before I lost it completely.

Finally, it was my turn but Noo didn't want to leave the boy he was having so much fun with. I made such a display using my sternest voice and firmly announced "MOVE!" to Noo who must have seen the anger/fear/crazy in my eyes and the floodgates opened for all to see.

To cut a long story short the GP I'd never seen before called my GP in Sydney who gave permission for low dose Valium to use at extreme times. They've helped but are not a long term solution.

I want to get away from my life. Be free of responsibility, of being needed. I want someone else to make decisions for me.

The swings have become quite cyclic. Every day begins with me waking up from a night of bad dreams that linger. I feel anxious yet tired. I'm still drinking coffee first thing in the morning yet I'm starting to wonder if I should cut back to help with my jittery soul. By the afternoon, I'm so low and start crying at the smallest of triggers and then by evening I can be up again but oh so sleepy by 11pm.

Today I couldn't get out of bed until 12.30pm. I'd risen earlier to do the usual trip to the loo, coffee, breakfast and then I read Mumabulous' post here and did a massive word vomit all over her comments section. After that I had to just walk away from the computer, lay down and sleep. Mum played with Noo who pretended to be Mala because he was worried Nanna was missing her other grandchild.

We are still in Melbourne and I'm really starting to wish it was time to come home. I crave familiar surroundings. It has been six weeks since the first really noticeable cracks in my psyche appeared. Six weeks of ups, downs and sideways are taking their toll on me. Changing my meds around has really fucked me up as well. I really don't know whether I'm here or there, Arthur or Martha, up or down... Can someone pass me the cliches please?

I've also lost interest in so much; I'm numb. A classic depression symptom is having little interest in the things that usually would stimulate you. I don't give a shit about anything and then I get so worked up about the most minute of issues. For the first time in well over a year I don't even give a shit about this blog. This place of my creation that I loved so much. What the fuck is wrong with me? What am I going to do?

Mum asked me this morning if I thought I should go back into hospital for a little while for a "rest". That way my psychiatrist could monitor me more closely and we could sort out this medication issue. But do I really want to go back there? It can be so draining being with other psych patients day and night. (FYI, I'm not dissing in patient peeps, but you know what I mean! I'm surprised my numbers are not down to zero on this blog!) On one hand the in patient support is great and you don't feel alone but sometimes it can drag you down further. Sitting around talking about what our diagnoses are and what meds we're on is fucking boring. And depressing.

My sister asked me yesterday if they should start looking for a back up nanny for Mala on the days I have her. I was feeling better at the time of that conversation and said no, I'll be fine, I love looking after Moo. Today I'm not so sure.

How will Noo feel about me being in hospital? His Nan and Pa will of course take good care of him but he'll miss me and I'll miss him. Would being in hospital even help?

I wish I could go to a health retreat in a beautiful location where they wean you off all your meds (including sugar and technology), and then nurse you back to health with long baths, massages and delicious wholesome food and exercise (with hot instructors of course)!

But mostly I just wish this awful mental health episode was over and I could go back to being the fun, loving mum I've always been.

V.

Overwhelmed

I haven't blogged for a week.

I'm completely overwhelmed.

There's the...

• natural chemicals in my brain doing crazy shit
• unnatural pharmaceuticals in my brain trying to correct the crazy shit
• the amazing response I got to this post from people I don't know
• the warmth I feel from letting the above people know that some of us city folk haven't forgotten them and that we do appreciate them and all they do for us
• family I love and who continue to support me through this crazy mental health situation I currently find myself in
• travel, the new sights, smells, sounds of being in a different city
• and, last but far from least, there's my little boy who is trying so hard to understand why his mum is a bit more cranky than usual, cries a lot more than she used to and who just isn't as fun as she used to be.

There's about a dozen posts in all that but I'm too tired and my brain is too strange to write a proper story.

When in doubt: talk about the weather

We are having a good time in Melbourne but it is hard. My ability to handle stress has been pretty poor over the last six years but now it is almost non existent. Actually, it comes and goes, but generally I feel overwhelmed. 

One minute I'm so annoyed and agitated that I want to scream a big FUCK OFF to the world, the next I'm lying on the couch, covered in a blanket feeling like I'm being sucked into a big hole of never ending blackness. And then there are bits in between the crazy that I feel kinda normal, but the moments are oh so brief. 

I'm being treated for a bipolar mixed state episode. I'm up and down at the same time and my psychiatrist is trying to even me out. You know, like a hairdresser running hot irons over corkscrew curls but the kinks keep springing back up. 

I just want to go back to my 'normal'. I'm not asking for jubilant joy and unwavering nerves of steel, I just want to be back to my old self that stumbled along through life without the constant fear of bursting into tears or exploding in rage.

I want some control back in my life.

How's your life going?

V.