Downsides of Being an Introvert

Since the last post, given that it was a couple of hours ago, I've sort of done a lot. Mentally, that is. Or at least, I think I have, I guess.

I'm beginning to realise (again) that the more human interaction I have, face-to-face, the more detached from myself I become. It's probably why I coasted through school and college as an emotionally unavailable robot. Seeing people five or six days a week for eight hours really isn't my thing, or so it would seem.

I can handle interaction that isn't in person fairly well most of the time. It's just seeing a lot of people and a lot of disruption to my routine that throws me off. Recently, there has been metric fucktonnes of routine disruption and face-to-face interaction. It hasn't all been a bad thing but it has definitely drained me. Mentally, physically, emotionally: all I want to do is switch off and spend a few hours watching Fringe uninterrupted. That's not to say that if someone came to me with an emergency, I'd ignore them - not at all! But what I do really need is just a few hours to just recharge.

It sounds a lot like I'm just slating social interaction but that couldn't be further from my intentions. I love spending an afternoon catching up with friends or just hanging out. I love meeting up with people and while I might not be so wild about meeting new people most of the time, I can definitely see the merits of it, especially while trying to succeed in a business as network-heavy as photography and photo editing. All that I need, I think, is to manage my time better. I'm trying to heal (as new-age as that sounds) and I simply can't do that if I'm exhausting myself by spending all my time socialising or running around after other people or doing things for other people.
But at the same time, helping others and doing things for others and all that makes me feel better about myself so helps the healing process. What I've got to do is find a balance between the two that allows me to get better by giving myself space and time but that also allows me to feel better about myself by helping others.

Now, after all that renewed self-realisation, I'm going to head home and start working on the poster for Violence Is Violence Festival. After I've made a decent start on that, or done everything I can for now, I'm going to start working on more photo edits. I've got a lot of work to do on my "Uncanny Valley" project so it'll be good to get started on that in earnest after handing in my final piece.

I've been doing that thing again...

So hi there! Again...

Ugh it's been forever! It's been a mixture of being really busy and being really depressed, often at the same time. As many of you probably realise, being both at the same time doesn't really work at all.

With that in mind, I keep thinking I'm together enough to write this blog entry but in actual fact, I opened this dialogue box yesterday evening and I've stared at it, I've ignored it, I've talked about it and I've even showed the terrapin (he didn't seem too fussed). I think it's probably taken around 23 hours for me to even get this far...

And low and behold, it's taken a further 20 hours for me to start up again after that last paragraph. Everything is too difficult to deal with right now. I hate to say it but yesterday night I was too mentally exhausted to even change my fucking webpage - how pathetic is that? It's like the epitome of #FirstWorldProblems and it might actually be killing me.

I'm gonna leave this here for now. Hopefully I'll get to post again in a little while but in the meantime, I need a break and possibly another coffee.

No, Actually, I'm Not Dead Yet.

Getting back into the blog writing thing is tricky. I set up a little scheduling reminder thing on my phone a little while back to remind me to blog on certain days and stuff and I've steadfastly ignored each and every one up until today. To be honest, I even ignored today's until I got bored and restless enough.
I've been in a pretty dark place over the last few months and I know that I find blogging cathartic, it's just getting the willpower to actually do it that's the hard part.

A lot of the time, I just can't be bothered to blog; I'm so consumed will loathing for pretty much everything that the idea of doing something constructive disgusts and repels me. Although, occasionally, I can use this as fuel for creativity - photo-editing and things like it have been done very successfully in these darker days. NaNoWriMo in particular pulled me through a pretty rough time last year - it was just about a month after my Gran passed away and having Wrimo related obligations pulled me through it and forced me out of the house on a bi-weekly basis. It gave me a good, solid, creative outlet something to do other than just the monotony of work and college and crying. It helped. Sure, my grades for that period still suffered, my manner with the customers took a beating, but I didn't do too many self-destructive things. As pointless and futile as living seemed, I stuck with it, I got my 50k words in the 30 days, against all odds and successfully 'won' NaNoWriMo.

Anyway, I'm going to stop rambling on about that now, this post was just to get me back into the swing of writing (again) and I think it has. I'll do another post tonight, probably a medication based one. Maybe a music based one. It doesn't really matter to be honest, I'm just trying to theme my posts or at least my days a little bit more than having my brain vomit guff all over the internet. Maybe I'll do a weekly round-up of 'Shit That I Find Interesting' rather than spamming my Facebook feed with links from anywhere and everywhere... ANYWAY! I'm just trying to get my head in a little bit of order or something so that I don't feel like I'm going around the bend all the time.

Peace, people, TTYL!

Out the Other Side Again.

The second week of this year was rocky. So rocky, in fact, that I became more paranoid than I have been in a long time. I was despondent, and, when I wasn't paranoid, I was so emotionally blank that I shut myself off from everyone and everything. Unfortunately, what I needed the most was some love and affection but due to things beyond my control, that was pretty unattainable.
Things came to a head the other day, Monday, in fact, but I didn't want to write about it then. It felt like it was too soon, I think. I don't really know. I just wasn't ready. I'm not entirely convinced that I'm ready even now, to be totally honest.
I'm going to say I don't know what brought it on. I sort of do but the reason isn't for the internet. I'm open on this blog but there are things even I want to keep to myself. And realistically, a lot of these paranoid episodes I have are sudden and out of nowhere and I think this time, it was just too many things that came together and came out of nowhere all at the same time. Yeah. I spent the entirety of Tuesday wanting to either throw myself in front of a bus or from a high area.
In the end, it was nothing that a good long talk couldn't pull round and, even though I'm feeling a little worse for wear, I'm pretty much out the other side again now.

A Year of Loss

In the last 12 months, a startling number of people I was close to have died. Last January, my Great Grandma Vi, who'd lived to the grand old age of 101, died just short of her 102nd birthday. It both was and wasn't a surprise at the same time. She was very old (obviously) and very frail but she kept her wits until the moment of her death which was wonderful. I regret not spending more time listening to her stories. After a century on this earth, she must have had some amazing ones.

Then in the summer, my step-dad's mam, Jean, died. She took ill fairly suddenly and we were told as soon as she went into hospital that she was unlikely to make it more than six more weeks. She made less than three. She passed relatively peacefully, all things considered, although the manner of her sickness was, and still is, a point of embarrassment for my step-family. Simply, she was an alcoholic. The human body just isn't equipped to deal with the volume of alcohol she took in.

In September, as I've already written, my Gran, Dorothy, died. We were incredibly close. She pretty much raised me - even though I lived with my mum and step-dad, they both worked full-time so I spent a lot of time at my Gran's house until I was in college. Her death was sudden and heart-breaking. I think what made it even worse was that she recovered from her heart operation faster than we expected - doctors and nurses on the cardiac ward included. The speed of the turnaround from fine-but-tired-after-undergoing-heart-surgery to, well, dying was enough to give even the most seasoned head-banger whiplash.

The week before last, I heard that a close childhood friend, Hal, took his own life. We'd been in the county swimming club and competed together. He was in the year above me at the same school and even though we didn't hang out often through school, we always got on well and always promised to get together more often. It never materialised, unfortunately. Through college, I'd bump into him every other week or so and we always talked as if no time had passed. I regret not talking to him more. His life was a one so full of promise. He was a musician and a writer. He'd played at festivals with his band and was looking to get books published. He would have been so great. In one way, I wonder how it went so wrong for him but then again, at the same time, I totally understand how it could have happened, even if I don't know exactly what he went through. I can wish all I want that I was there for him when, realistically, it's pointless. He had better, closer friends than me who were or should have been there for him. At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter how many people are there for you, if you feel as though you have no self-worth then nothing can make it better but you. It's a catch 22 situation and it's horrible.

This year has very limited ways that it can be worse than last year. I've said that before and I was told that I was jinxing it. Fuck jinxing it. There'll be hell to pay if this year falls to shit as well as last year. Frankly, after my sorry mental state in the last few weeks, I'm not sure I'd make it if this year was worse.

Coming Up Blank

Writing this shit is hard. Like the title says, I'm coming up blank on pretty much everything these days. I'm on holiday from work which is kinda nice but at the same time, I feel sort of purposeless. This is why I tend not to take holiday. I've only been off for seven days and it feels like a fucking eternity. I'm not even due back until Sunday either...

Time is taking like six times as long as it should. It's only January 13th but it feels like it should be like March or something. November feels like a year away when in actual fact, NaNoWriMo ended barely six weeks ago. I can't handle all this too well. 

I'm getting paranoid, dejected, lonely even though my boyfriend's right there with me. It's sort of ridiculous but at the same time, I haven't even got the energy to feel that bad about myself. I mean, obviously I do, that's most of what's getting me down after all, but at the same time I'm just so apathetic towards it. I feel dead inside. Like a zombie or something.

I know it can be the meds. Mirtazapine can do that to you. One of the people I know had this reaction and switched to Fluoxetine. Obviously I can't do that - having tried them and it going badly, I don't exactly want to do it again. I don't know what I need, really, I guess, or what I want. Apart from a hug and some attention. Unfortunately, everyone's out at the moment so that's going to have to wait until later.

As for progress, I've started doing the washing. I've got maybe three loads left to do. And all the kitchen's nearly clean and the dishes are all done apart from a bunch of glasses and the plate and mug I used this morning. I changed the bedding yesterday. Or maybe the day before. Either way, it's changed. It doesn't match this time like it did but I guess that doesn't really matter. My eating's not going so well and with all the festive disruption my gym going's kind of gone all to pot but I'll be going later today, and then before college tomorrow, with a rest day on Wednesday. I don't want to plan too far ahead, because I can find it too restricting and overwhelming, but at the same time I need some structure to actually make me get out of bed in the morning. I'm actually managing to do my currents project at college now too. There's the PPD 2 and the portfolio that we're doing at the moment. PPD is personal and professional development or something like that, and weirdly for once, it is actually exactly what you'd think. It's a portfolio of work that details my progression into photography and the world of photographers. Everything that I've learned about shoots and target setting and visiting class speakers and jobs in the industry that I've looked at. It all goes into the documents and then it counts for a decent portion of my grade at the end. The other project is the portfolio which is huge and important and it's to be used in our professional lives to get clients and frankly, that fucking terrifies me. What scares me more - I guess that should be 'scared' now - is the fact that it is supposed to be a professional grade portfolio which costs approximately £150 - £200.

I worried and worried about this, and the money that I had to pull out my arse for the London trip, until last Thursday. I turned up to college fairly convinced that I was supposed to have a lesson but apparently not. But I bumped into my lecturer, who I'll not be getting on there but more on that later, and sorted of freaked out all my stresses about there was no fucking way I can afford any of any of the things I 'need' this year. 

We agreed that I can submit my portfolio on my iPad - it's only going to have to be with my lecturer for one day in the summer. Hopefully it's not going to be when I'm at a festival! (More on that later too.)

As for the trip to London, I've got to talk to one of the girls on the full-time who's organising it all with the gallery. I still need to do that. I've been meaning to do it since November but I dunno. The thought of talking to a stranger about it, about the fact that I need yet more time to get £40 together, fucking terrifies me. I nearly lost my shit when I had to talk to my lecturer about it back in November! I feel like it'd be a wasted opportunity but then again, any sort of opportunity like that is never going to be a waste unless I really just submitted crappy work and frankly, I don't do crappy work. Especially not where music photography is concerned. 

I think I should just stop worrying about it or something. It's all going to turn out fine in the end. I just wish I didn't feel so shitty in the interim.

15 Things That You Just Don't Say To Depressed People.

1. "What have you got to be depressed about?"
Someone said this to me once. He was the chief instructor at the karate club that I taught at. He then mocked me in front of the entire club at a grading. How professional... Needless to say, I haven't been back since.

2. "But you've got it so easy!"
Yeah, my life must seem pretty cushty when you compare it to other things but that's not really the point here.

3. "Why are you depressed? You're young!"
Why is age a factor? How the fuck are you to judge that?

4. "Tell your doctor that you don't need those drugs."
Well I would love to be able to tell my doctor that. Unfortunately, I've tried going without them: I had horrifying, mind-bending hallucinations, ridiculous paranoia and nearly had a full mental breakdown. I'm going to wait until they tell me that I can reduce my dose/stop taking them. Thankyouverymuch.

5. "Tell your therapist that she doesn't know what she's talking about."
I think you don't know what you're talking about.

6. "Just cheer up." "Just snap out of it." "Pull yourself together." "Get a grip."
Oh shit, man, I never thought of that! Holy crap, you have just revolutionised my life.

7. "I was depressed once."
I can't even think of something to write here. That's nice? I dunno...

8. "Why are you so miserable?"
Oh I dunno... Maybe it's just because my brain is chemically imbalanced in some way through no fault of my own - usually it's relating to how I was bullied horrifically as a child. I just can't get those negative voices out of my head now that I'm all grown up.

9. "What are you crying about now?"
Honestly? Fuck knows. I'm just really fucking sad and everything - yes, every single goddamn thing - is bothering me/making me paranoid/upsetting me. I can't control it. I can guarantee it's more annoying/scary for me than it is for you.

10. "Well [x, y and z] bad things have happened to me and I'm not depressed."
Congratulations? Well done? What do you want me to say? What are you trying to do? Are you trying to make me feel worse because that's what's happening here...

11. "You're just weak."
Thank you. Truly,  thank you, so much, for that. That's exactly what I needed right now - some heartless scumbag making me feel even more worthless.

12. "You must be so brave."
This is an odd one. It usually just makes me really uncomfortable. Is it big headed to agree? Am I being ungrateful if I disagree? Ugh just smile and nod, Sarah, accept the compliment in a noncommittal way...

13. "It must be nice."
What must be nice? Hating myself? Feeling worthless? Having no energy whatsoever? Constantly putting myself down? Being heavily reliant on medication? Yeah, it sounds like a ball. Who knows what I'm always so down about...

14. "Why would you ever want to kill yourself?!"
Wow, you honest to god really just asked me that? I'm not even... I can't even... None of the things that I want to say will organise themselves into words right now - that is how angry I am. I think I'll just stab you instead. Thanks for your judgement though. Your opinion has been noted.

15. "What's it like when you're depressed?"
Fucking horrible. I'm still human though - I can still work and clean and look after myself most of the time. I get that you're curious but you could just ask the internet before you offend someone.

These are all things that friends, co-workers, family members etc have said to me. Unfortunately, those aren't the responses I gave at the time. Nor are they really what I felt at the time either, to be honest. At the time, I tended to just be so confused/angry/upset that my ever-so-pleasant persona came over me and I answered kindly, as if talking to a curious and mildly offensive child. Or gave a sympathetic response. One of the two.
There was one occasion when I'd reached the end of my rope and I responded with: "Well, I guess when I tried, and failed, to off myself this summer, I figured that I should probably keep going to therapy and taking my meds. I think they're probably right about my depression..."

Sorry for the second rant - this wasn't deliberate, I'm just feeling cantankerous, I guess. Christmas and all that...

Oh December, I think you'll be the death of me...

I love the winter. I just really, really wish that Christmas wasn't a part of it. I used to love Christmas and to this day, I still love buying presents for people and seeing how happy it makes them. Getting presents myself makes me a little uncomfortable but that's not the issue here.
The issue is christmas music.
Carols, hymns, Mariah Carey, freaking Cliff Bloody Richard. I hate them all with a passion as burning as a thousand suns. There are three decent ones - The Pouges', Blink-182's and Chris de Burgh's.
Christmas decorations. All of the kitsch little cherubs and the creepy, rosy cheeked Santas and the stupid deelie bopper headbands and the jumpers. Oh god the jumpers. And even the onesies! This year, of course, we're inundated with onesies...
I can deal with penguins and reindeer and polar bears but only because they're actual things that I like for the rest of the year as well.

I hate to sound like a Scrooge but I just hate the hype. People are so angry this time of year and because I work in retail, Christmas is rammed down our throats like no other time of year. That and the customers are so freaking angry. All the bloody time. I feel like shouting at them that it's not my poxy fault that they've once again left their christmas shopping until the last minute and to be more organised next year. If it's so goddamn important, why don't they put more effort in?!

I'm done. I'm done with christmas cheer. I'm not going to go out of my way to be miserable or unpleasant. I'm still going to ask my customers how they're christmas shopping is going. I'm still going to be sympathetic when they tell me how disorganised they are. But there is no way in hell that I'm going to wear those fucking antlers that I was given yesterday. I nearly slapped the man who referred to me as Rudolph and I nearly threw them at the next woman who did it. I was shaking with anger then and, writing about it, I'm shaking with anger again now. I can feel my heart pounding. This shit isn't good for me!

On that note, I'm not sure Christmas - in the way that western society celebrates it anyway - isn't good for anyone else either.
My therapist told me in our last session that she always wants to check in on people more during the christmas period because of the strain it puts on people. I think, if people didn't put as much pressure on each other, they would enjoy the holiday more.

Sorry about the rant.
Well, let's face it, we all know I'm not really sorry. It was going to happen sooner or later. It's the 5th of December and I'm already sick to death of christmas. Here's hoping the rest of the month goes better...

Non-NaNoWriMo Related News

As much as I'd like to write about the many things that have happened since my last proper update post, I can't. Nothing much really has happened. I've had a few NaNo meets and the washing machine broke. Plus there was a flat inspection and then the hoover broke too. Other than that very little has gone on.

College is still going fine, I'm still in my third year, still doing photography, still loving it. The only thing that's changed there is that I'm now fairly determined to do the top-up year in order to make my FdA a full BA in Photography once I've finished this summer. After my Gran died, I did a lot of thinking about it and, especially since Matt's going to be at college an extra year now, I think it's for the best. I'll get a more credible, more widely recognised and understood qualification plus more funding in that year. It may mean adjusting my work hours but hopefully that won't be too much of a problem. It'll also give me the means to set up my own business which is what I want to do in the long term after all!

Other news - exciting news, that is - concerns me going back to karate as a favourite thing and maybe, possibly opening my own club up in the spring this year. Hopefully between myself and the three/four others I'll be working with, we'll have our own permanent, 24 hour venue in which to run fitness classes, flexibility training, karate classes, kick-boxing, tae kwon do and sports massage sessions. I also want to start teaching yoga but at the moment I'm no where near good enough for that! We're going down to Birmingham in January to start our formal instructor training with a gentleman from Verve. I'm pretty excited (and simultaneously terrified).
In the same vein, I finally got approved for joining a gym by the doctor when I visited this morning. What one guy was going to charge me £20 for (and not actually give me a medical exam) I got for free from the doctor that sorts my medication. He's not my GP but at the moment he's as good as - he sorts my anti-depressants and anti-anxiety tablets as my GP was on maternity leave at the time and I'd rather not have too many people adjusting my medication here and there as they see fit! As soon as I got the note saying that I was deemed well enough to join the gym, I dropped it off at the gym in question and booked by induction for Friday afternoon. I'm super excited for it, if I'm honest, and a little bit nervous but to be honest, that's usually the best combination.
Now that I've got that sorted, I'm going to start eating paleo (again) and stick to it through doing 80:20. In short, I'll eat paleo 80% of the time but allow myself one day (or just a few meals) that aren't paleo compliant in order to not restrict myself so much that I can't stick to the way of eating. I really want to cut back on my gluten consumption too - after reading into what gluten can actually do to your digestive system and about how people who are sensitive don't often know it, I think it'd just be safer not to eat it. After all, it could be a contributor to my psoriasis and god knows I'll do anything to get rid of that!
I'm still doing fairly well after the light treatment ended. I've got a few patches on my face that have come back but I know that if I moisturise they'll calm down and, failing that, I've still got some Eumovate and Tacrolimus ointments. It's my scalp that's doing the worst at the moment but that's due to me not using the Sebco ointment and wearing my hair up or in hats because of work and the cold... Some days I feel like I shouldn't even bother keeping on top of all my creams and things because I feel so awful about myself anyway. Then I remember that I always feel better when my skin and hair look better - I worry less about my appearance and am generally happier. Plus I'm more willing to do other things to look after myself such as my CBT activities, exercise and healthy eating.
Another reason that I was at the doctors today is that I found a lump in my breast and Matt insisted that I got it checked out. My mum had a breast cancer scare earlier this year so it'd be a lie to say that I wasn't worried about it but, fortunately, the doctor thinks that it's unlikely to be anything serious and is likely just a cyst that may need drained (which is pretty disgusting but certainly not cancer so yay!) Even so, he's sending me off to the special under-30s breast clinic in the next couple of weeks to get an ultrasound just in case and for them to treat it in whatever way they see fit.

That's everything that I can think of for now but I shall be sure to update if anything else comes up!

After a long absence...

16/9/13

Or at least what feels to me like a long absence, I'm back!

August was, by and large, pretty nasty. I haven't quite decided how I'm going to run down everything that went on so here's a chronological list of most of what went on. 

1) My therapy sessions with my psychologist started up in earnest. 

2) I wasn't feeling too hot on the 30mg mirtazapine so my doctor put me up to 45mg. I then missed my second appointment with Marie, my psychologist. 

3) I went away to Bloodstock for five days - the first weekend of August. It was amazing and I met some really great people but it was also really tiring. 

4) My flatmate decided he was moving out, when I got home from work one evening, and I then found out that my other half had already found us a new flatmate without asking me. I must point out here that I didn't mind so much that I wasn't consulted - I really like the new guy and it wasn't like I had anyone to ask anyway. 

5) My gran (mam's mam) took ill due to ongoing heart problems. She's had a narrowing valve for a lot of years now but none of us were ever expecting anything to come of it. 

6) I went away to a family wedding in Gretna Green for a weekend. It was lovely, I had a great time even though I was largely on my own - Matt was supposed to have the time off but couldn't due to work commitments. 

7) Upon returning from the wedding, I had a really bad day exacerbated by an 'argument'. I turned to self-harm and contemplated taking my life. It got so bad that I had to go to A&E to keep myself safe/alive. I was then given two weeks off work and more diazepam to recover. 

8) My gran had valve replacement surgery and then proceeded to progress amazingly. She was allowed home less than a week after her surgery and has continued to improve steadily. 

9) My grandma (step dad's mam) was rushed into hospital with internal bleeding and organ failure. While in hospital she contracted peritonitis and pneumonia. She later died on the bank holiday Monday after being in South Shields General for seven days. I visited her only once before she died - I was the last grandchild to go. 

10) Matt got his interview for college. It was scheduled for the 28th, my birthday, and he passed well after a fortnight of really hard work.

11) I started therapy again. In the session Marie told me of a special group therapy course that they'll be running this winter. 10 2.5 hour sessions with approximately ten people all with moderate to severe long-standing depression. She think's that I suit the criteria and I thought that it sounded like a good opportunity.

12) I missed therapy again. I slept in - again - meaning I managed to sleep for a solid 14 hours. I rang in and rearranged but now I'm just waiting on my appointment letter arriving. 

13) I turned 21! I ended up having to celebrate the occasion 3 times - twice with family and once with friends (twice with friends if you count my actual birthday, on which Matt and I went out for pizza and did nothing else. 

14) All the while, I was trying to make it to the RVI three times a week for light treatment for my psoriasis. My skin condition is exacerbated by stress so you can imagine how well it was going... And I started working again. 

15) Oh and my pay was about £300 short after being on the sick. I should get it this month though.

THEN September started and, with that, the 3rd year of my FdA in Photography. Talk about stress! 

Today, when I got to the hospital, I asked how many sessions I had left. Just so I could tell work how long it'd be until I went back to my normal shifts - my Wednesday and Monday shifts had to be pushed back two hours so I could fit everything in. My psoriasis had largely cleared up a week or two ago but, knowing that I still had about a month left, I didn't point this out. Also no one asked me. However today, after the nurse said that I had two weeks left, she actually asked how it was clearing up. I told her that apart from a tiny scar on my shin and a tiny, slightly dry patch on my hip, everything treated by the light was gone. At which point she was like "Oh well you're done then!" 

I looked at her from my little light box, standing there in my smalls and a hospital gown, before she added: "Since you're here, have your treatment today and then we'll discharge you."

*I must also point out that, as I write this, there's a toddler sitting on the bus next to me screaming because his mother won't give him any sweets. It's very distracting. I'm also soaked because, before I went into the hospital, it was pretty sunny, once I got out like 10 minutes later, it was pissing down and I'm wearing cloth shoes.*

It's nice, finally being discharged. I don't have to slog it to the city centre three times a week only to come home half an hour after getting there - it seemed like such a dreadful waste of time. And I won't have to work until 10pm on Wednesdays.
Well that's it for today I think, more later - or tomorrow - but I have to go to work now...

A Reminder

Monday served as a grim reminder of just how unpredictable depression can be. Just how hard it can hit back after an easy - or at least relatively smooth - time.
It came out of no where, really. I'm well aware that a 'good' day for me usually involves a period of feeling down or restless or unsettled - I don't often get whole days of feeling good at all. I guess I do know how it happened. I like routine, although I use that phrase loosely. My routine consists of being at home, in Newcastle, and sleeping in my own bed - not travelling too much, going to work, sometimes meeting someone in town for coffee etc.

Both weekends of the last fortnight, I've spent in wildly different places. One was at Bloodstock - a festival in Derbyshire and the other was a family wedding in Gretna Green. Between the two I was only at work once. All the packing, unpacking, washing and repeating had me worn out by Sunday just gone - when I got home from the wedding. I had intended to go out with some friends - just meeting them at the pub like I almost always do on a Sunday night - but in the end I didn't feel up to it. I was low and tired and figured I'd be no fun to be around. Fortunately, I'd picked myself up a bit by the time my other half came home.
Monday, however, was something else entirely. I was distracted, withdrawn. I kept sitting down and losing myself in my train of thought. I didn't know where this had come from and I certainly didn't understand why it was happening. It wasn't until that evening that it occurred to me that I'd barely had a minute to myself in the last two weeks. I'd hardly had a chance to touch base. I hadn't seen or spoken to many people, the house was a mess because I hadn't been there to tidy it and I'd just been eating junk and snacking or having big starchy-carb meals.
I don't know how it happened. One minute I was fine - or thought I was, or thereabouts - the next I was crying uncontrollably. There was shouting. Lots of shouting. But mostly crying from me. I remember the door slamming. I remember screaming, near silently - unable to get the sound past my throat. Hoping that my flatmate wasn't in. Hoping my flatmate was in. I needed someone. To come and hold me, to comfort me, to shush me while I cried. I couldn't stop myself.
I had a hospital appointment that afternoon. I still hadn't stopped crying by the time I got there. One of the nurses rang the mental health crisis line for me because she was so concerned. Surprisingly they didn't actually do anything - I guess they didn't think I was much of a suicide risk because I'd managed to get myself to the hospital already. Despite the fact that I'd told them I intended to take my life and was concerned I would if left alone. Then again, maybe the sheer fact that I was lucid enough in that moment told them that I wouldn't do it. Or something.

I was in the hospital five and a half hours before I spoke to someone who really took the time to listen to me. Of course, by this time I'd calmed down a lot. I just didn't want to be there. I didn't want to go home either. I just wanted everything to stop. To hit pause. Throw my hands up and get off the ride. I'd had enough. More than enough.
Home wasn't better. The next day wasn't really better either. The doctor recommended a week off work with more time if needed. We fought again once I got home. I'd tried to talk. He still didn't want to have to deal with anything. I cried again. The only thing that was different is I didn't take it out on myself. Tuesday night was a little better though.
Wednesday was a little brighter. I met up with some of the girls I used to be in college with. I had tea with my parents and when I came home we weren't up long before we went to bed.

Today? Today's been better. I feel more secure in the knowledge that we're actually alright and it was just that everything was getting too intense. I've got an interview at Lush in a couple of hours and I'm bricking it. Well, I'm actually pretty excited - I'm just nervous too. I keep thinking that I know nothing about the brand or the products or anything like that but I know it's not really true. I'm looking forward to it.
It's just for a xmas temp job but hopefully I'll get kept on at the end and I'll be able to leave Sainsbury's in the new year.
That seems so far away right now but I know it'll come round in no time.

Pills and Dubstep

So I'm writing to you from Boots as I wait for my new prescription to process. My music's playing but my headphones are around my neck - no doubt to the delight of the other customers. Yes, today I am that girl. You know the one, with the scraped back hair, blasting electronica from headphones, looking a bit cheap and a bit common throughout the wait. 

I'd like to point out that that is very rarely me. I don't wear tracksuits and only occasionally wear jogging bottoms (I only own one pair and I got those from my pole-dancing school for when I don't want to cool down too much). I very rarely have my music loud enough for others to hear too - I like to think I'm considerate that way. 

Today is different I guess. I've just gotten out of the doctors. My mirtazapine's been increased to 45mg and I've got to reintroduce diazepam to keep a lid on my anxiety too. I get to review it all on Tuesday again. 

I think I'm just starting to lose hope a little. To lose sight of where I'm headed and what I'm aiming for. I'm starting to care less and less about everything: work, chores, my appearance - you name it. 

When I get home, I think I'll try and do something nice for myself. A long shower and a face mask maybe. I did get some new Lush things to try the other day. 

All in all, it's taken an hour and a half to get my stuff sorted, from leaving the house to go to the appointment to getting back. There was a bit of a hiccup with Bitch-Receptionist and whether or not my prescription was actually at Boots after I ordered it on Monday but it turned out that Mr New Pharmacist had just misplaced it. 

Bitch-Receptionist actually told me I must be taking too much propranolol. Clearly I don't know how to take my meds. It's only been a year after all... 

Maybe I could have been more polite but frankly it wouldn't have been the first time she'd buggered my script order to my detriment!

As Good As It Was...

Sincerest apologies for being pretty absent recently. I've had a lot on, sort of.
By that, I mean I've not actually had a lot going on but it's felt like a ridiculous amount of stuff due to my epic lack of mental oomph these days. Right this moment I'm actually getting hassle from the webzine I volunteer for. They're saying I didn't send them the right pictures even though I did - it's not my fault if where the venue allow me to stand has a shitty viewpoint... Plus, if they'd done their job right in the first place I'd have been able to do the entire job rather than just do damage control from that failure of a day...
Other than that, I've had a disciplinary hearing at work for being off so much and they really grilled me about every little detail. They didn't quite want to hear the gruesome bits so much though. And the note-taker managed to make me sound like a moron. Instead of actually writing what I said he paraphrased it resulting in me sounding incredibly simple. I've applied for a temp job at Lush in Eldon Square in town over the winter so hopefully I'll get that and they'll keep me on. That way I'll be able to get out of my current job for good. I don't even care if I have to work twice as much - it's something I really want to do and will doubtless have fun doing. I found out the other week that I'd been shortlisted for an interview so I'm pretty psyched about that!
My ability to do housework guttered out about the same time the will to anything that wasn't watching mindless American TV did. It took me a little while to notice - we'd ran out of forks and underwear before I actually did anything about it. Most of my free time has been spent getting really fucking blitzed.

The meds have plateaued again. I think all the stress has just shut down my serotonin and ramped up the cortisol and I'm really not doing very well. When I rang the doctors' yesterday to get an appointment, and a prescription, I was told there was no pre-bookable appointments available until some time in September. As a result, I'm just going to have to turn up one morning and hope for the best! They always have on-the-day appointments for emergencies. I guess I just wish that exceptions could be made. I suppose then everyone would want to be the exception though...
I want some time off work - I feel like I need to just pull back and regroup. Just to sort myself out before I jump back into work. I've got a new therapist now - she's a psychologist rather than a CBT therapist. She seems lovely. I just think that the whole therapy thing is going to get worse before it gets better and I'm honestly not sure if I can do work as well. I can barely talk to customers right now as it is! If it gets any worse I'm worried that I'll say something to someone that'll land me in so much shit that I'll just get fired.
I'm also scared to take time off because then I'll probably end up in another disciplinary hearing and, even though they're all related illnesses, I'm concerned that I'll be treated more severely since it'll be my fourth absence and my second time in a hearing.
Plus there's the whole holiday mix up from last weekend as well. I was convinced I was on holiday because it was my cousin's wedding. But apparently there's no evidence of me ever requesting that day off so, when I wasn't there, it went down as an unauthorised absence. Since I effectively didn't show up for my shift.
I'm feeling so hopeless right now that part of me just wishes they would fire my ass... I hate feeling like that - I worked damn hard for 14 months to get that job and I'm fucking good at it!

Because my willpower's taken a hit, so has the CBT exercises, pole-dancing, yoga and the diet. I think the diet was pretty doomed early on to be honest but, at the same time, I've still been eating really healthily since that's the only kind of food I've been buying. I rarely leave the house for anything other than work and the hospital. Even then I go grudgingly.
With the hospital I end up so drained that I can barely walk afterwards which, when coupled with the exhaustion I get from the Mirtazapine, is pretty dire. On my first light treatment session they burned me quite badly - no blisters or anything, just a nasty sunburn for a couple of days. The psoriasis is clearing up really nicely though so that's refreshing! I still have to use the Eumovate and the coal tar and salicylic acid coconut oil stuff every week. I don't actually use it (I know, I know) it's the whole willpower thing again. Frankly it's awful to use. It smells bad. It looks bad. It feels bad. But it's bloody good stuff...

I think this will do for now. I have more photos to edit and they're not going to darken themselves. Fortunately Matt has a friend coming round tonight so I'll have the evening to myself to do the editing - even though I promised I'd play Magic with them. Honestly, the editing shouldn't take long.


So I shall leave you with this, one of my current favourite songs: the beautiful and vibrant, Veela.

NEWSFLASH: I'm Feeling Happy For The First Time In A Long Time.

Like legit happy, not "I've had so many tablets today you could shoot me and I'd hug you" happy but actually happy. Like lighter and not held down by this giant depressive black cloud. Not on a tightrope above that abyss. Not so alone that all the people in the world couldn't make me feel wanted.

It's beautiful.
It's humbling.
I think most of all, it's terrifying, because it's come out of nowhere but there is no way in hell that I'm taking it for granted.

I think I know it's down to the Mirtazapine but I'm happy that I've finally found a medication that it making me better rather than not having an effect or making me worse. I like that it's pretty much almost stopped with the auditory hallucinations too - they were annoying although they weren't as bad as the mind-fuckery I've had with everything else!
My urge to eat everything has calmed down for the most part too which is really nice given that I was starting to get proper fat... I'm trying not to weigh myself these days so much because it's too much of a risk with my mood. If I lose weight, I either get super happy and determined to carry on or I get complacent and 'treat' myself. If I gain weight, I usually get super down because I've been trying really fucking hard or I get depressed because I tell myself I haven't been trying enough and that I'm worthless and so on and so forth... Very occasionally, if that little number on the display goes up I can go easy on myself, saying that maybe I haven't been as good as I could have been but not to worry or I can remember that sometimes weight just does that depending on so many different things like water retention, digestion, 'time of the month' blah, blah, blah. Usually it's the former though. It can get pretty brutal...

In diet related news, I've officially started the Whole30 plan for this month (as of July 2nd). I've had a couple of slip-ups (I know, I know, it's only been four days, how can I possibly have slipped up already) but that's okay. I've had one totally perfect day so far and as for the slip-ups: one, I didn't even realise what I was eating had sugar in it and two of them were 'special occasions' (a meal with a friend today and lunch delivered by my mam yesterday when I was having a rather turbulent day).
Another plus, in my book anyway, when I have slipped up, I haven't scrapped the rest of the day. I've stuck to the plan and I've eaten well. I know it doesn't make it better but damage control is better than no control in my opinion.
One of my favourite things right now, on the Whole30 program is Nakd bars. They're compliant with the paleo diet and the Whole30 program, they're really filling, super tasty and really handy on the go so I'm not tempted to go off the clean eating. On that note, I've just found this which is amazing and is going to save me unprecedented amounts of money in the future - Nakd bars are also really quite expensive... I'm going to go and make some cherry and ginger bars when I get in from work tomorrow.

Right now, I'm sitting listening to Taylor Swift - nothing specific really, just the four albums (I think) - with my hair full of Marilyn and my skin covered in Dream Cream (well okay, I've got Tacrolimus on my face - more on that in a moment) and it's pretty nice. Matt's away at a festival and, while yesterday was a little weird, I think I'm enjoying the time to myself. I tidied a bit yesterday and my mum came over - she cleaned my bathroom while she was here - and I've got almost all of the washing done. Now I can just relax I guess.
Yesterday was probably so strange because it's the first time I've been here without Matt - I kept expecting him to come in from work or something! He texted this morning saying they were heading down to the festival and that he'd talk to me later but I told him not to worry about it. I don't want him thinking he has to text me while he's away - I want him to go and enjoy himself and do whatever people do at open air jazz festivals. He's due back on either Monday or Tuesday since he doesn't have his return journey sorted yet (if that was me, I'd be going mad with worry thinking that I'd get stuck in London forever or something equally insane). I think my only complaint is that time seems to be going really, really slowly! I can't believe that he only left yesterday and that it's still Friday! I mean what the hell is up with that? I'm not sure where I'm going with this but since it's current events and I'm not catatonic in anyway and I'm coping very well, I thought it was worth a mention... (I did expect to be absolutely fine - I think Matt was just worried that I'd have worked myself up into such a state worry and panic and misery that I'd off myself or something... I'll have you know I cope fine on my own, it's adding other people to the equation that causes problems!)
As for Marilyn and Dream Cream - if you don't already know - they're Lush products. Dream Cream is my favourite moisturiser and Marilyn is a hair moisturiser and lightener filled with camomile and lemon juice that stops brassy tones building up. I've not used it before (bought it earlier today) and I'm looking forward to seeing how good it is! I was planning on having a Lush bath bomb bath once I finished this post but as it's already after 11pm I'm really not going to have time. I might have to leave this in over night... I've just noticed how gorgeous and lemony my hair smells! So nice! Here's hoping it's a little lighter too by the morning. I think I might put Superbalm on my scalp tonight, instead of the scalic acid/coal tar/coconut oil compound stuff that the hospital gave me. I know the hospital one works but it smells awful and doesn't half linger... I also think that the scalp psoriasis I had is mostly gone now (due to the hospital ointment). It worked really quickly and really well which was pretty incredible - it's never really happened like that before. The tacrolimus is shockingly good too. Cleared my face and ears in a matter of days. Burned to hell for the first week but it was a pretty amazing transformation! I've got to stop using it on Monday though because my light treatment starts soon and it makes my skin more sensitive to sunlight and thus more prone to burning horribly with the light treatment.
In all honesty, they're yet to NOT burn me at the hospital with the broadband UVB anyway! I'd rather not risk them doing it worse than the two previous occasions though - they were more than bad enough. The first time was 3rd degree burns down my upper arms and the second were the same degree but blistered across my nose and cheek bones. Both very painful and very icky to say the least.

I had my assessment with Newcastle Psychological Services on Monday just gone. It went pretty well but there's a three to four month waiting list unfortunately. I said that I wasn't fussy on which psychologist I saw, I just wanted to be seen sooner rather than later to get all of the nasty stuff over with.
By nasty stuff I just mean the whole part where it gets worse before it gets better. It's already been a year and I have come one hell of a long way since then. I still just want to be better now.
With the assessment, I was discharged from Newcastle Talking Therapies and, like last time, I am able to go back to the service any time I feel that I need to. Hopefully I won't need to but it's nice to always have the option for it if I need it rather than be totally on my own. The psychologist I saw recommended a few different things for me in the waiting time between now and getting my psychologist: reading material "A Mindful Way Through Depression" and group therapy with Tyneside Women's Health. I think I'm going to give the mindfulness thing a shot before the group therapy. I dunno why I'm so apprehensive about it. I guess I'm just scared of being judged or, worse, scared of being too judgmental of others. I terrible with stuff like that - especially when it's other women whom I don't know. If I know them first then I'm totally fine but if it's a stranger going on about their problem it's 50/50 whether my internal reaction will be sympathetic or whether it'll be bitter and malicious. It's horrible, I feel like I can't control it! The level of contempt I have for some other people really gets to me sometimes because I don't know why I have such strong feelings about them.
I guess, just like everything else, it's something I'm going to have to work through and unravel slowly...

Well, I'm getting pretty sleepy now so I'm going to wrap my hair up, take my meds and get myself to bed! Night folks, I hope this makes up for the lack of recent posting and I promise I'll post again over the weekend about Camp NaNoWriMo and applying to be an ML for Newcastle/Durham. Byee xoxo

Anti-depressants: The Bane of the Fat Girl

Yeah, the worst really hadn't passed when I last posted. It's all been pretty grim. Instead of cutting I turned to scratching and picking and biting: the therapist's whole "draw where you'd cut" thing didn't work for very long at all - ten minutes tops. My CBT sessions have restarted to stop me flipping out too much before I go to NPS next month and, as of this morning, I'm not due back at the doctors until I feel like something's going wrong. 

It's a little bit scary to not have my next appointment mapped out - it's been so long! - it should be alright though. 

I'm a bit worried about going up to 30mg Mirtazapine too but, again, it should be alright. I'm still getting the anxiety episodes and the days of epic rage but they aren't as bad anymore really. As for my low mood and the like, well, it's pretty nasty - hence the upping of the dose. 

I think that my longest ongoing health issue, alongside the depression, is my complete inability to lose weight and stay at whatever lower weight for any period of time at all. I had, in fact, started losing weight a month or two ago through calorie controlling and exercise but then I started taking Mirtazapine which makes you eat like a mofo... I mentioned this to my doctor, having gained nearly six kilos in a month, and he just looked at me apologetically and said "Unfortunately there's nothing I can do. It's just a side-effect of most anti-depressants. It's just a matter of finding ways to combat the weight gain..."

So aside from being generally fat (also, all the women in my family are overweight which can only exacerbate things really >_<) the meds make me bloated and sluggish. When I do exercise it makes me happy for about ten minutes afterwards then I just feel shit again. Regardless of how long I exercise or how intensely I do it. My psoriasis is getting so bad my skin's swelling up and chafing like crazy. To combat that, I'm starting light treatment in the next week or so too so that's going to pull the psoriasis back but probably also give me sunburn and/or 3rd degree burn blisters on my face/arms/stomach - you name it... Another side-effect of the Mirtazapine that I'm experiencing is 'strange sensations in the skin' which basically means either pins and needles, numbness or itching in one or more parts of my body. Usually my face/mouth (weirdest thing ever) or legs/forearms. Nothing really helps that apart from willpower. 

I've had a couple of run ins with HR at work because of my uniform (I wear a knee-length black skirt that happens to not be made by their supplier). They then gave me a pair of trousers to wear. Four hours later my legs were so swollen and painful, I could barely walk. I haven't been able to go pole dancing because of the state of my thighs and, needless to say, I have gone back to wearing my skirt. If they'd ordered me one four month ago like I'd asked, we wouldn't be having this problem...

All in all, life hasn't really changed here. I'm still fat and depressed and living in a crappy, messy flat with my other half and our flatmate, who isn't really speaking to either of us for some reason. I have started doing yoga properly though, I'm trying to do at least 20 minutes 3 times a week. I managed 30 minutes after work the day before yesterday, hoping to do an hour today once I've finished this. I do feel like it's really helping, I'm a lot calmer than I was and feel pretty peaceful. I've only done like five sessions though so I'm thinking that I'm not yet reaping the full benefits. 

I'm going to make a pretty drastic diet change (again) come Monday - I'm going paleo-vegetarian for 30 days to cleanse and detox my body. I'm doing it via Whole9 and it's reported to help improve the condition of people suffering from various medical things such as depression, anxiety, psoriasis, arthritis, lupus, Crohn's etc. In my opinion, I can't really get much worse than I have been these last few years so I've got bugger all to lose! 

Coming up this week (I'm trying to plan my blogs more so I actually do them), we've got a closer look at how I'm going to go paleo, my bucket list and why some people shouldn't be allowed to breed! See you later!

*links to come*

I think the worst has passed...

After an appointment with the doctor this Tuesday past, we decided that I should stay on the Mirtazapine a while longer. He's now referring to my Day of Rage as a 'blip' and, in order to prevent future 'blips' I'm to stay on 15mg for another three weeks before we change the dose to a higher one.

I've had a few really bad days of suicidal feelings but I haven't actually acted on any. I may have taken more medication than advised once or twice but never actually enough to kill me. I've not self-harmed either which I'm quite proud of. A much as I've wanted to and as much as the compulsion's been there, I've not actually done it. I think taking up yoga has really helped. I'm not doing it everyday, even though I want to, but even three or four times a week is seeming to have a huge impact! 

Work can be really stressful sometimes - especially if I've had a stream of absolutely horrid customers... It just really gets me down and then I get caught in a downward spiral of self-loathing and panic and it can pretty much ruin my head. 

I've not been going out as much as I want to recently, I've mostly been too tired or I've slept in etc. They say that Mirtazapine is like the king of sleepyland because it sends people to sleep but now that I've been taking it a while I find that it makes me kind of tired for a couple of hours after taking it then I'm fine but once I've slept and my alarm goes off, I'm near impossible to wake. When I do wake up, I can fall asleep again but be convinced I'm awake! Cue missing lunch dates and whatnot...

I've got four medical appointments lined up over the next six weeks - three in June: with my old therapist, Sarah; with a consultant at dermatology outpatients' at the RVI to discuss light treatment and the last with my doctor to sort out my Mirtazapine dosage. The final one is in the first week of July and that's with my new therapist Judith - we had to rearrange because of the 

Mirtazapine sending me doolally...

On top of all of this, my mum went for a mammogram a week or two ago and they seem to have found something. She's going for further testing today. I'm not even going to lie - I'm pretty worried. Last month she was on really strong antibiotics for a nasty lymph node infection so that doesn't really seem to bode all that well...

She'll probably find out the results in a few days so I'll mention that when it happens. A for me, I'm going to go and get some breakfast before I go to work - three and a half hours. Most pointless shift ever...

Two weeks on.

I've lost count of how many times I've wanted to die in the last fortnight. Half the time I didn't actually want to kill myself, I just wanted to die. Whether it was to curl up and pass away or be hit by a bus or something, anything, as long as it ended my life. My self-preservation instinct is gone. I don't care about anything. I'm either numb, depressed or so filled with rage it's terrifying.

Sometimes I'm fine though, like now. Six hours ago I was a shaking sobbing wreck. I barely had the strength to grip a pen and I just wanted to die. I'd been feeling violent towards myself all day but by 8pm I just wanted to drop dead. Violently, peacefully, whatever as long as it involved me not living. 

Then everyone came home. That helped me through it and hearing about the misfortune of a friend of ours tapped my maternal side which pulled me round as I went to cheer him up a bit - utilising Lush bath bombs, Savannah Dry Cider and fancy teas from Whittard of Chelsea.

The only reason I haven't self-harmed again is because I've managed to guilt myself out of it each time since I promised I'd stop hurting myself. I have, on occasion taken more than the recommended dose of my tablets but not so many as to overdose. Just enough to take the edge of more than usual. Singularly, none of my tablets are normally fatal in overdoses but together I'm not so sure. I'm careful. And I only do it when I really need to - when I feel as though I'd do something worse to myself otherwise. 

Tomorrow I'm going to ask if there's anything they can do to dull the whole rage side-effect thing and if they can up my Mirtazapine dose. I'm not sure what my psychologist appointment is going to involve so I'll write about that tomorrow. I'm a little nervous about it but hopefully it'll help me out in the long run.

More and More Appointments.

At the moment it seems as though, if I'm not in an appointment with a doctor/nurse, I'm booking one. There was one today - bloods, to check my thyroid and blood sugar; this Thursday, a follow up from my last medication change; the I booked my new therapist - an actual shrink this time - for the 3rd week in May; on the second week of June I've got an appointment with the consultant at the RVI for my light treatment appointments. 

I know that on Thursday I'm going to have to tell my doctor that the Fluoxetine just isn't cutting it and he's already insinuated that, since I was having difficulty adjusting, I'd have to have something new. I hope it's a new SSRI rather than something altogether new - I'm concerned that I'd have a far worse withdrawal/new medication reaction to something that wasn't an SSRI.

I'm getting an actual psychologist instead of a high-intensity therapist because the CBT, even though it was helping a huge amount, just wasn't making the grade in the long run. It helped me make my illness less obvious to others, I bottled things up and people didn't realise because I didn't get the physical symptoms or I didn't react like I usually would have. I told the doctor that I wanted to work further into my past rather than the immediate present because I felt that it helped more when I did things like that with my regular intensity therapist in the first place. I did say this last autumn but no one took any notice back then.

Other than that, I'm still having difficulty finding the motivation to do pretty much anything - go to college, walk to work etc. Hopefully before long they'll have me put right but in the mean time, I'm just going to try my best to do a little bit of something every day. I'll try to walk to work tomorrow instead of getting the bus there and back - I know it's not a long walk, only about half an hour but when I leave the house it just seems impossible...

At least I finally finished that essay for college - took me an extra month but I did it in the end... I've lost about 25% of my grade already and I might even just get 40% overall but at least I handed it in in the end. I wasn't even going to do that the other day. This morning I even contemplated dropping out but then I pulled myself together, made and paid for some amazing business cards and got down to doing the essay and the photo editing. (Click here for more info on my photography and my college work.)

Yesterday involved a lot of personal stress - potentially why I'm feeling so skewed today. Fortunately I have since found out that everything's been resolved well and there's no longer anything to fret about so that's good at least!

I've recently discovered a newfound love of drawing manga and whatnot. I've been on Paigeedraw pretty much everyday since I downloaded it a week and a half ago. I've been uploading pretty consistently too - the only day I've not done anything at all is today because I was determined to do that essay (even though it literally took ten hours to write 1200 words - horrendous for me!). I bought myself some coloured pencils rather than jumping straight in and shelling out £60 for some Copic markers but I haven't had the chance to use them yet. I think I'm going to get some extra overtime in and save up for some Copics, a Fitbit and a set of fancy fat/muscle measuring scales like the Aria ones on the fitbit site... 

I've realised that I want to be fit, regardless of weight or size - I just need to remember that in my not so good moments. I'm going to set myself some goals - I took the idea from the lululemon site earlier today - so I'm going to to do vague ten year and five year ones and then more specific one year ones. I'm going to do three categories (health, personal and career) and there'll be two goals per category. There's a handy worksheet here that I'm thinking of downloading and printing off at college on Thursday.

As for pole dancing, everything's going pretty well. I've almost mastered the split grip and I learned the corkscrew spin the other day. Then I ripped open the side of my middle finger and was consequentially useless for the last ten minutes of my class... I missed it on Monday because I was just so exhausted but hopefully I'll be back in on Friday. I'm also hoping to get my own pole up in the spare room this week sometime. It'll be good to have one here to practice on all the time - maybe that way I'll get better and fitter faster.

Anyway, that's it for now - I'm off to put pizza in the oven for Matt and myself. I might even make myself a packed lunch to take to work tomorrow since I'm doing eight hours rather than my normal six hours. I've got a load of salad and some Quorn chicken style pieces and pitta breads and houmous... The options are endless!

Something to chew over.

I've just posted this on my photography blog/college progress journal that I have to keep as part of my degree. It just struck me - the profound effect my mental state is having on my life and my loves. This time last year, and before then too, photography was everything to me. It's all I wanted to do. Now I hardly ever indulge it.


"So since my summer term begins on Tuesday, I thought I'd best update this again.

I'm struggling. More than I ever have before. I was supposed to hand in an essay two weeks ago. Not only did I miss the deadline because of being sick, it wasn't even finished. I've never found essays hard. Ever. But this is something else. I just can't write it. I can't formulate the words, the argument, the research. I've never just not handed work in!
I think the largest part of the reason for my dreadful attendance and shoddy punctuality is my medication and my current mental state. My struggle with severe depression and anxiety has meant that I have been unable to make it into college on several occasions. There have also been times when medical appointments have interfered with my ability to get to college. Not only that, but they've impacted on my photography. I don't go out anymore just to take photos, I don't organise shoots, I don't do gigs for GetYourRockOut, I don't do any editing. I feel like my dream of getting into the photography business is slipping through my fingers because I can't bear to do anything. I haven't got the energy or the willpower to do anything at all.
From time to time I feel like I can do it: like I can carry on and take photos, like I can make it in the industry. But really, most of the time I'm feeling like I'm wasting my time and money doing this degree. I feel utterly hopeless and lost.
I just don't know where I belong anymore.

Despite all of this, one of our current assignments is all about branding material so I've just spent a couple of hours designing some business cards. I'll be paying for them on Friday because it's payday then and I currently have less than a fiver to my name...
I'm about to start working on my creative CV and add more to my work based learning document. I'm going to email GYRO and explain why I've gone AWOL and hopefully they'll understand. That way I might be able to do some more gigs for them and maybe more interviews.
I love it when I'm there - it really is what I want to do with my life. When I was at Hammerfest in March I would have done anything to be in the pit with the rest of the photographers - it was driving me crazy just being in the crowd.

I'm still thinking of doing a journalism degree after the third year of the FdA. I'm just doubting my ability to do it I guess, along with worrying about the horrendous level of debt I'll have at that point. Heaven knows what the university fees will be like in September 2014.

I've just realised that September 2014 is terrifyingly close. It's a year and a half away. That's no time at all. I don't think I could ever possibly be ready for that!"

Find the rest of the posts - happier posts - at shootforthemoonphotography.blogspot.com
There's also examples of my photography there too!

Insomniac Ramblings

I can smell chocolate.
I don't know why and I don't know where it's coming from. But I know that I can smell it... I think it might be from when Matt was eating one of his Easter eggs earlier - there was a chocolate-looking mark on the bed where he'd been sitting.
There's also a chance that it might be coming from my Herbalife shake tub... They're chocolate flavoured and remarkably realistic! I'm enjoying having them - they're quick and easy to make, they taste good and they're generally pretty convenient. With the added weightloss bonus of course...

Anyway, back to what I was originally going to post today...
I've realised that although I started this blog with the intention of going through how I was coping with depression and anxiety and how it all made me feel, I'm not sure I've done much of that.

For me, depression makes me feel worthless and as if I'm not good enough. In turn, that stops me from trying because I believe that I'm crap anyway, so why bother?

Some days, I find it especially hard to get out of bed because I just haven't got the strength to face the day. Everything seems bleak and dark and pointless. I don't want to do anything. Anything I do do is faced done with a rather miserable attitude of 'why am I bothering, I don't want to be here' regardless of how well it's hidden.

I hate the fact that I have to fake smiles. It's exhausting. It's stupid. I don't see why I should do this for others half the time.

Of course, that, to me, comes across as extreme selfishness - something I was raised to hate and avoid at all costs.
This, ergo, makes me feel horribly guilty - like a truly despicable human being. I disgust myself and hate myself. There are times when these feelings get so bad all I want to do is die. I don't want to kill myself, I just want to die.
Of course, there are the other times when I do want to take my own life. Whether it be through overdose or through cutting myself somewhere vital. Sometimes I cut myself to feel in control when everything else is too crazy. When it feels like the world has stopped turning but I haven't and all I can hear is my own mental screaming and my own voice and the other voice telling me how worthless and horrible I am. When all I can see are flaws in everything. When I feel so much that I feel nothing. The last of my most recent scars are nearly healed and the itching is driving me mad.

It's pretty tough. Sometimes, like now, I can see that I don't give myself enough credit for dealing with this and getting the help that I have. Sometimes, I don't feel like it's been enough. I know that I'm going to go to the doctors tomorrow and tell him that I don't feel any better. I'm going to tell him that I in fact feel emotionally dead most of the time. That time itself seems to take three times as long. That I'm spacing out, confused, disorientated. I'm not sure what the outcome of that will be but I'll let you know either way.

On a somewhat lighter note, Matt had his closest friend visiting today so I cooked us all whole wheat spaghetti bolognese. It was amazing. We had it with warm, freshly made bread and garlic Lurpack. There's still some bolognese left - I'm planning on having some tomorrow with rice. Or maybe just with salad. Or with pasta salad. I haven't quite decided. Obviously...