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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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 (diazapam, quetiapine) 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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Linking up with Maxabella Loves for

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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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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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.