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.
Showing posts with label mental health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mental health. Show all posts
Friday, 13 June 2014
Friday, 17 January 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, 7 December 2013
Gym Times!
It's decided. I prefer the gym to people.
*There's quite a bit more profanity in this than I would usually use. You've been warned.*
I don't even particularly like most of the people at my gym right now.
Granted that's because I don't know them and I've only been going a few weeks and they all seem like scary, steroid-filled meatheads but still: they're preferable to most of the irl people I know. As a side note, it took me no less than seven attempts at writing 'irl' there - my mac kept correcting it to 'url'... Clearly it's not hip on the lingo at the moment. Anyway...
I've come to the realisation that most of the people I know irl just bring me down and burden me with all their shit. I am so over that. I mean come on, I'm sick of being everyone's go to girl when they're bitching and moaning about things that they could have prevented. I'm not going to go into specifics but I'm sure you get the idea.
I love helping people and being there for people but I sort of expect the same liberties. I mean if I'm having a shitty day, I want them to take five minutes out of being so wrapped up in their own problems to help me out. Of if my meds are fucking me up - I need to be able to talk about that crap. What I most certainly do not need is my so called friends to get all uncomfortable and change the subject as soon as possible. Or talk over me. Or stop talking to me at all. Or conveniently forget that we were supposed to be meeting up.
None of that. None of that shit. I'm done. What I want, what I need, is people who are going to help me. People who are going to cut me a break when I need it or, hell, even when I don't need it - just when I want it!
I'm sorry, I really am, about all the rants in the posts this week. I've just been realising a lot about myself. I haven't been taking as many propranolol as directed either - I keep forgetting - but to be perfectly honest, I think I'm coming across some fairly ground-breaking realisations about myself right now. I'm supposed to take 3 per day but they were making me really tired and even 2 a day was slashing my energy levels. Right now I'm taking 1-2 per day when I remember and I'm feeling so much better.
I'm still having really depressive days when I just can't shift the cloud. And times like yesterday I just burst into tears for no reason. Yesterday I was tense and paranoid and worried about everything and then I went to the gym and within 30 minutes I was perfectly fine. It's like freaking magic!
Then I go on Facebook (the devil in disguise) and within seconds I'm freaking miserable. I realise that I really, really don't like most of them! I don't really care about most of the ones that I haven't spoken to in months. Or who haven't made an effort to talk to me.
In fact, as of writing that last paragraph, I've gotten rid of like a fifth of my 'friends' on Facebook. Any people whose names were met with 'who the fuck are they?' or 'I'm sick of their shit.' or 'I haven't spoken to them in x years and I can't see me actually talking to them again.' have gone. I could get rid of more but I kept a few for nostalgia like school friends and the like.
I'm feeling slightly better already. I like that I've realised that my own health is important. I needed that. Especially after this summer. I don't really know what's triggered it, I think I just feel as though it's time now, to look after myself and to take care of myself until I'm better.
I love, love, LOVE the gym.
I mean, I kinda hate it when I'm sitting in bed on the internet and I know that I need to go and put on some pants (yes, underwear, not trousers - over-share, I know) and some real clothes and brush my hair and drag myself up the street to the gym where all the scary men are. But once I've done my warm up and I've started my first rep everything else just melts away.
When I'm there it becomes my form, my technique, the weight I'm lifting and how much it does (or doesn't) burn when I'm finishing my last rep. I know that I'm overweight, I don't feel any less self-conscious about my fat rolls there than anywhere else but at least, when I'm there, I can say: 'Well, fuck you all, haters, at least I'm working on it.'
At least I've gotten my ass out of bed and into some moisture control trousers and into the gym.
And hell, this emotional benefit? I've never felt that before! Not really, anyway. I get it from yoga but it doesn't last long really. I didn't get it from karate in the later years - I mostly hated it all the time. I resented the fact that I didn't get the chance to learn. I resented the people, my instructor, all of it. I sort of got it from running but I think, mentally, I wasn't in as good a place then as I am now - I put myself down way too much to get a buzz from anything.
My diet's still pretty sucky. I could be doing that a lot better and, surprise, surprise, I guilt-trip myself about that too but it's better than it was! Apart from tea tonight. That's going to be a massive cheat...
I've decided though, that I'm going to be bad ass. I'm going to be strong and, maybe not ripped per se, but I'm going to have 'dat ass'. The ass of squats and the body of weight training. Fuck cardio workouts. Well not really. They have their uses but my workouts mostly concern of less than 10 minutes of cardio to warm up, then around 45 minutes of weights, then 10-20 minutes of cardio to cool down again.
I'm going to be military grade fit again because frankly, I owe it to myself. I don't deserve to be fat and miserable and unhealthy. Fuck that shit. All of it. Nope.
Boom inspiration! God knows where all that came from... It's true though. And this isn't going to be one of those 'does it for a month and then never again' things. This is it, baby.
*There's quite a bit more profanity in this than I would usually use. You've been warned.*
I don't even particularly like most of the people at my gym right now.
Granted that's because I don't know them and I've only been going a few weeks and they all seem like scary, steroid-filled meatheads but still: they're preferable to most of the irl people I know. As a side note, it took me no less than seven attempts at writing 'irl' there - my mac kept correcting it to 'url'... Clearly it's not hip on the lingo at the moment. Anyway...
I've come to the realisation that most of the people I know irl just bring me down and burden me with all their shit. I am so over that. I mean come on, I'm sick of being everyone's go to girl when they're bitching and moaning about things that they could have prevented. I'm not going to go into specifics but I'm sure you get the idea.
I love helping people and being there for people but I sort of expect the same liberties. I mean if I'm having a shitty day, I want them to take five minutes out of being so wrapped up in their own problems to help me out. Of if my meds are fucking me up - I need to be able to talk about that crap. What I most certainly do not need is my so called friends to get all uncomfortable and change the subject as soon as possible. Or talk over me. Or stop talking to me at all. Or conveniently forget that we were supposed to be meeting up.
None of that. None of that shit. I'm done. What I want, what I need, is people who are going to help me. People who are going to cut me a break when I need it or, hell, even when I don't need it - just when I want it!
I'm sorry, I really am, about all the rants in the posts this week. I've just been realising a lot about myself. I haven't been taking as many propranolol as directed either - I keep forgetting - but to be perfectly honest, I think I'm coming across some fairly ground-breaking realisations about myself right now. I'm supposed to take 3 per day but they were making me really tired and even 2 a day was slashing my energy levels. Right now I'm taking 1-2 per day when I remember and I'm feeling so much better.
I'm still having really depressive days when I just can't shift the cloud. And times like yesterday I just burst into tears for no reason. Yesterday I was tense and paranoid and worried about everything and then I went to the gym and within 30 minutes I was perfectly fine. It's like freaking magic!
Then I go on Facebook (the devil in disguise) and within seconds I'm freaking miserable. I realise that I really, really don't like most of them! I don't really care about most of the ones that I haven't spoken to in months. Or who haven't made an effort to talk to me.
In fact, as of writing that last paragraph, I've gotten rid of like a fifth of my 'friends' on Facebook. Any people whose names were met with 'who the fuck are they?' or 'I'm sick of their shit.' or 'I haven't spoken to them in x years and I can't see me actually talking to them again.' have gone. I could get rid of more but I kept a few for nostalgia like school friends and the like.
I'm feeling slightly better already. I like that I've realised that my own health is important. I needed that. Especially after this summer. I don't really know what's triggered it, I think I just feel as though it's time now, to look after myself and to take care of myself until I'm better.
Back to the original point!
I love, love, LOVE the gym.
I mean, I kinda hate it when I'm sitting in bed on the internet and I know that I need to go and put on some pants (yes, underwear, not trousers - over-share, I know) and some real clothes and brush my hair and drag myself up the street to the gym where all the scary men are. But once I've done my warm up and I've started my first rep everything else just melts away.
When I'm there it becomes my form, my technique, the weight I'm lifting and how much it does (or doesn't) burn when I'm finishing my last rep. I know that I'm overweight, I don't feel any less self-conscious about my fat rolls there than anywhere else but at least, when I'm there, I can say: 'Well, fuck you all, haters, at least I'm working on it.'
At least I've gotten my ass out of bed and into some moisture control trousers and into the gym.
And hell, this emotional benefit? I've never felt that before! Not really, anyway. I get it from yoga but it doesn't last long really. I didn't get it from karate in the later years - I mostly hated it all the time. I resented the fact that I didn't get the chance to learn. I resented the people, my instructor, all of it. I sort of got it from running but I think, mentally, I wasn't in as good a place then as I am now - I put myself down way too much to get a buzz from anything.
My diet's still pretty sucky. I could be doing that a lot better and, surprise, surprise, I guilt-trip myself about that too but it's better than it was! Apart from tea tonight. That's going to be a massive cheat...
I've decided though, that I'm going to be bad ass. I'm going to be strong and, maybe not ripped per se, but I'm going to have 'dat ass'. The ass of squats and the body of weight training. Fuck cardio workouts. Well not really. They have their uses but my workouts mostly concern of less than 10 minutes of cardio to warm up, then around 45 minutes of weights, then 10-20 minutes of cardio to cool down again.
I'm going to be military grade fit again because frankly, I owe it to myself. I don't deserve to be fat and miserable and unhealthy. Fuck that shit. All of it. Nope.
Boom inspiration! God knows where all that came from... It's true though. And this isn't going to be one of those 'does it for a month and then never again' things. This is it, baby.
Thursday, 25 April 2013
New Addition to the 'Sarah's Medication' Family.
As of tomorrow, I'll be replacing my current Fluoxetine tablets with a daily 15mg of Mirtazapine, a noradrenergic and specific serotonergic antidepressant. It's also occasionally given to underweight cats to stimulate their appetite...
As side effects for anti-depressants go, this has fairly minor/run of the mill ones. Anything from nausea to fainting, drowsiness etc. Unfortunately it also creates an increase in appetite and, thus, weight gain. Not really what I need right now but hey-ho maybe I'll start eating regularly enough to lose weight! Interestingly, according to 'the internet' it can also cause 'nocturnal emissions' which is an amusing term for... you guessed it... wet dreams. (If you guessed flatulence, you've obviously never known a guy in puberty!)
The doctor and I came to the conclusion that I should move away from the Fluoxetine when I started not only getting unpleasant mental side effects (dizziness, disorientation, confusion, paranoia, intense and irrational fear, irritability and aggressiveness to name a few) but also some nasty physical side effects - headaches, 'gut issues' (I won't scare you with the details), difficulty regulating my body temperature, restlessness, insomnia etc. etc. We discussed me going back to NTT (Newcastle Talking Therapies) and doing more CBT but since my personal self-review is Star Wars Day (4th May for you non-nerds) and my first appointment with my psychologist is May 16th (Star Wars Day Squared!) it might not be that worth it. It's nice knowing that the option is there though - kind of comforting even.
In non-medication related news, I've got my last formal, group session at college next Tuesday - I didn't make it in this week, I just couldn't bring myself to go. No idea why, it just happens sometimes with the depression - I can sometimes barely leave the bed never mind the house! I finally managed to get all of the essay written and submitted on Tuesday. I don't remember if I've said that already but I managed it at last and I'm proud of myself so I don't mind if I say it twice. The image didn't send the first time apparently but I managed to get it sent properly today thankfully. I know I've lost a substantial amount of my grade but at the moment I consider getting the work in an achievement in itself...
I missed pole on Monday - too tired - but I'm going tomorrow before going to Nando's for lunch with Charlotte.
This month had the best payday ever so I've successfully paid of all my debts, indulged myself a little and bought some amazing little business cards from moo.com. They're incredible - I'll be posting a picture when they're delivered (on May 2nd hopefully!).
*Just got an iMessage from Charlotte - she's skint and can neither make pole nor Nando's tomorrow. Sad Panda... We've rescheduled for a week today.*
After a fun, and sedating, excursion - well, break... - I'm going to leave this here and go to make some Mexican food.
Tortillas filled with refried beans, Quorn pieces, fajita sauce, fresh salad, stir-fried vegetables and mexicana cheese.
Foodie Heaven...
As side effects for anti-depressants go, this has fairly minor/run of the mill ones. Anything from nausea to fainting, drowsiness etc. Unfortunately it also creates an increase in appetite and, thus, weight gain. Not really what I need right now but hey-ho maybe I'll start eating regularly enough to lose weight! Interestingly, according to 'the internet' it can also cause 'nocturnal emissions' which is an amusing term for... you guessed it... wet dreams. (If you guessed flatulence, you've obviously never known a guy in puberty!)
The doctor and I came to the conclusion that I should move away from the Fluoxetine when I started not only getting unpleasant mental side effects (dizziness, disorientation, confusion, paranoia, intense and irrational fear, irritability and aggressiveness to name a few) but also some nasty physical side effects - headaches, 'gut issues' (I won't scare you with the details), difficulty regulating my body temperature, restlessness, insomnia etc. etc. We discussed me going back to NTT (Newcastle Talking Therapies) and doing more CBT but since my personal self-review is Star Wars Day (4th May for you non-nerds) and my first appointment with my psychologist is May 16th (Star Wars Day Squared!) it might not be that worth it. It's nice knowing that the option is there though - kind of comforting even.
In non-medication related news, I've got my last formal, group session at college next Tuesday - I didn't make it in this week, I just couldn't bring myself to go. No idea why, it just happens sometimes with the depression - I can sometimes barely leave the bed never mind the house! I finally managed to get all of the essay written and submitted on Tuesday. I don't remember if I've said that already but I managed it at last and I'm proud of myself so I don't mind if I say it twice. The image didn't send the first time apparently but I managed to get it sent properly today thankfully. I know I've lost a substantial amount of my grade but at the moment I consider getting the work in an achievement in itself...
I missed pole on Monday - too tired - but I'm going tomorrow before going to Nando's for lunch with Charlotte.
This month had the best payday ever so I've successfully paid of all my debts, indulged myself a little and bought some amazing little business cards from moo.com. They're incredible - I'll be posting a picture when they're delivered (on May 2nd hopefully!).
*Just got an iMessage from Charlotte - she's skint and can neither make pole nor Nando's tomorrow. Sad Panda... We've rescheduled for a week today.*
After a fun, and sedating, excursion - well, break... - I'm going to leave this here and go to make some Mexican food.
Tortillas filled with refried beans, Quorn pieces, fajita sauce, fresh salad, stir-fried vegetables and mexicana cheese.
Foodie Heaven...
Wednesday, 24 April 2013
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!
Sunday, 14 April 2013
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!
"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!
Phobias
So, since a related event has just occurred, I thought now be an appropriate time to write about some of the things that I have fears of. My list goes thus (mostly in order):
- Spiders - this is the big one. The only spiders I can usually 'tolerate' are the tiny, tiny, tiny ones.
- Centipedes/Millipedes and maggots
- Most things that have more than four legs (why on earth would anything need more that four legs?)
- Sharks
- Imagined 'things' (note: this is usually when I have had a bad meds day or some such)
- Imagined 'things' in the dark (see note above)
- Making people angry
- Deep water (including points 3 and 4)
- Going crazy
- Heights
In one fell swoop when I was putting dishes away about twenty minutes ago, I encountered fears 1 and 3. A spider eating, as in actually on top of, a wrapped up hide beetle. Now I have a thing about hide beetles because, they themselves look kinda like woodlice. Their young look like woolly maggots crossed with centipedes. In the last flat I lived in, we had a horrendous infestation of hide beetles. This infestation created the fear.
After I opened the cupboard door and saw this spider - at first I just thought it was a bit of rubbish or something - I sat there transfixed as it moved off the hide beetle then proceeded to run along the sides and back of the cupboard behind the other dishes and away into the dark. I was shaken but ok. Then everything started to itch. Now I'm afraid to pick anything up or move anything in case there's a spider underneath it. I feel like I'm going to throw up and I want to get a drink but I can't because I'm afraid to leave the room.
Now, I was due some propranolol anyway and I didn't take it before work this morning so (I know, I'm not supposed to but) I doubled my midday dose. It's taken the edge off and I've stopped shaking but it hasn't really done anything else. To be honest, when I started taking the propranolol, it made my phobias and such like worse even though it made my anxiety better.
Spiders and other creepy crawlies play the biggest part in my visual hallucinations. I see them coming out of the walls and the ceiling and crawling towards me along the floor. It's not too great. It makes me jumpy. I've mentioned this to my doctor and he at first asked me if I drank a lot because that sort of hallucination can be alcohol related. I've since found out that seeing spiders and whatnot crawling out of walls was something my great grandma saw too. Now I don't drink a lot or very often and I'm fairly certain that she was t-total so I'm not convinced it's alcohol related. As for any other reasons, I'm mildly concerned that I'm going round the bend.
I'll be sure to keep you posted...
In other news, the Herbalife thing is going fairly well. I'm not sure if I've actually lost any weight or inches because I forgot to do my measurements at the start but I'm reacting fairly badly to lots of carbs. For example, I had pizza the other night and was ill all night and the next day... I am enjoying it though so that's something at least :)
Anyway, i'm going to get back to writing my college essay - I'm fairly certain I failed the module already so I'm not sure why I'm even bothering but I just can't leave it unhanded in...
Tuesday, 9 April 2013
Eight Days Of Fluoxetine, Three Days Of Herbalife.
As you can probably tell, today is my eighth day of taking Fluoxetine instead of Citalopram. The withdrawal symptoms from taking reduced doses of Citalopram were pretty intense. After getting over the viral infection, I still had to take the Penicillin VK until yesterday morning (horrifying tasting stuff that is...) but I was all better and things so all I had to deal with were the bizarre withdrawal symptoms of the Citalopram and the new side effects of the Fluoxetine.
Now, before I started taking it (the Fluoxetine) I'd managed to pretty much terrify myself by reading various accounts of what people had gone through for the first six weeks of taking the new medication. As far as I could tell, most people were taking it for anxiety rather than depression however, and they hadn't previously been taking an SSRI (Selective Seratonin Reuptake Inhibitor such as Citalopram). Contrary to everything that I read, my first week has gone really smoothly. Even the doctor thought I'd have a hard time adjusting to the new medication but strangely, I've been alright. To be honest, on my first day of Fluoxetine, I did have a breakdown in the bathrooms at work. I think it managed to terrify everyone - they keep asking me how I am and how I'm adjusting to tills and if I'm okay. I just keep telling them that I'm feeling a lot better and that working on checkouts is better for me than the fresh department. Which it is - fresh was lonely and I had far too much time to dwell on things whereas with checkouts I can't do that.
After I got over the virus and the Citalopram withdrawal, I've not really felt anything - I don't feel worse, apart from the occasional bad spat of anxiety, but I don't feel all that better either. I'm forgetting things, spacing out, getting confused easily. I don't really feel happier or anything like that so I'm suspecting that, on Thursday, when I go back to the doctors, he'll increase my dose.
Aside from the new medication, I've also started drinking the Herbalife meal replacement shakes. They're really nice and I think I'm already noticing a difference in my eating after just three days! I'm having two shakes, two teas, two snacks and one nutritious meal per day. It feels kind of like Slimfast but I feel nowhere near as bloated and sluggish as I did after their meal replacements. It's obviously forcing me to eat a lot healthier too - even though I have approximately zero money.
Last night, my main meal was noodle salad with a whole egg. The salad part comprised of half a green pepper, half an onion, half a tiny turnip, a third of a cup of broccoli, half a cup of cos lettuce and some dried chilli salt, half a vegetable OXO cube and pepper for seasoning. It was gorgeous! Less than 300kcals too! (Notice how I've put in my MyFitnessPal page for you! My screen name's Sarah2808 should any of you wish to follow me.)
Now, before I started taking it (the Fluoxetine) I'd managed to pretty much terrify myself by reading various accounts of what people had gone through for the first six weeks of taking the new medication. As far as I could tell, most people were taking it for anxiety rather than depression however, and they hadn't previously been taking an SSRI (Selective Seratonin Reuptake Inhibitor such as Citalopram). Contrary to everything that I read, my first week has gone really smoothly. Even the doctor thought I'd have a hard time adjusting to the new medication but strangely, I've been alright. To be honest, on my first day of Fluoxetine, I did have a breakdown in the bathrooms at work. I think it managed to terrify everyone - they keep asking me how I am and how I'm adjusting to tills and if I'm okay. I just keep telling them that I'm feeling a lot better and that working on checkouts is better for me than the fresh department. Which it is - fresh was lonely and I had far too much time to dwell on things whereas with checkouts I can't do that.
After I got over the virus and the Citalopram withdrawal, I've not really felt anything - I don't feel worse, apart from the occasional bad spat of anxiety, but I don't feel all that better either. I'm forgetting things, spacing out, getting confused easily. I don't really feel happier or anything like that so I'm suspecting that, on Thursday, when I go back to the doctors, he'll increase my dose.
Aside from the new medication, I've also started drinking the Herbalife meal replacement shakes. They're really nice and I think I'm already noticing a difference in my eating after just three days! I'm having two shakes, two teas, two snacks and one nutritious meal per day. It feels kind of like Slimfast but I feel nowhere near as bloated and sluggish as I did after their meal replacements. It's obviously forcing me to eat a lot healthier too - even though I have approximately zero money.
Last night, my main meal was noodle salad with a whole egg. The salad part comprised of half a green pepper, half an onion, half a tiny turnip, a third of a cup of broccoli, half a cup of cos lettuce and some dried chilli salt, half a vegetable OXO cube and pepper for seasoning. It was gorgeous! Less than 300kcals too! (Notice how I've put in my MyFitnessPal page for you! My screen name's Sarah2808 should any of you wish to follow me.)
I'm hoping, once I've been paid on Friday, to get to pole dancing at least twice a week and I'm going to start walking to and from work as of tomorrow and maybe even to and from town when I'm at college and things - saves a hell of a lot of money! Also, now that I've got the spare room under control, I'm wanting to get a little space heater and use it as a yoga/pole dancing room as well. That way, not only will I - hopefully - be losing weight through Herbalife, but I'll be getting leaner and more toned through exercise too.
Well, that said, I'm off to make my morning shake (yes, I realise it's past 2pm but that's beside the point...)
TTFN!
Thursday, 31 January 2013
To rant or not to rant, that is the question...
Well this was supposed to go up a couple of days ago but I was in such a state, mentally and physically, that I was unable to bring myself to write the post.
My doctors, well their receptionists, managed to so royally screw up my prescription I had to go without my propranolol tablets for two and a half days. By the end of the first day, I was hearing things, by the lunch on the second day, I was seeing things. When I finally got the tablets at 9.20 on the third day, I was having full on visual and auditory hallucinations, could barely function and, consequentially nearly threw myself into the road to get rid of it all. My deterioration was so rapid and so incredible that it totally knocked me off my feet and, four days later, I'm still feeling the effects of it.
Aside from being missing the propranolol, I was missing the diazepam for a day and a half and the citalopram for a day too. It wasn't fun - looking back on it, it has a kind of morbid amusement but beyond that, I genuinely think I couldn't have made it through another night.
My doctors, well their receptionists, managed to so royally screw up my prescription I had to go without my propranolol tablets for two and a half days. By the end of the first day, I was hearing things, by the lunch on the second day, I was seeing things. When I finally got the tablets at 9.20 on the third day, I was having full on visual and auditory hallucinations, could barely function and, consequentially nearly threw myself into the road to get rid of it all. My deterioration was so rapid and so incredible that it totally knocked me off my feet and, four days later, I'm still feeling the effects of it.
Aside from being missing the propranolol, I was missing the diazepam for a day and a half and the citalopram for a day too. It wasn't fun - looking back on it, it has a kind of morbid amusement but beyond that, I genuinely think I couldn't have made it through another night.
Saturday, 26 January 2013
A Post From The Snowstorm and Happy Burns Night!
Well it's snowing outside - nothing new if you've been in the UK at all for the last fortnight - and it's forecast for about 10cm over the weekend. 10cm! That's like the middle of my shins! It's already ankle height - coming in over the tops of my shoes when I walk - it'll actually just swallow me whole if it gets that much deeper.
That aside, most things have been going pretty well. My tattoo has healed beautifully, my degree's going well and my medication has stabilised for now. I think I'm successfully not addicted to Diazepam and my last therapy session is on the first Monday in February. It would have been last Monday but due to the inclement weather conditions, Sarah and I just spoke over the phone. We agreed that, because my anxiety was still quite an issue and I didn't really want any telephone sessions, she would provide me with a reading list of helpful books in order to try and keep everything under control. My review date for where I'm at mentally will now be May 4th (Star Wars Day!!!) rather than the 21st of April but not to worry - it's a three month wait whichever way you slice it! I've got a review at the doctors for my tablets in a week or two, I'll have to mention that I'm still getting very anxious from time to time so I'm not sure what'll be going on there. I'm fairly certain he want's to take me off the Diazepam altogether since it's so addictive but I'm just a touch worried that I'll get too anxious and things without it... Maybe he'll exchange it for something else rather than just leaving me hanging.
Work's not been too bad - that problem colleague has now mostly downgraded to telling all the staff members not to talk to me because "they'll get in trouble" since I apparently grassed him up. It's annoying but it's schoolboy stuff and I can't be bothered to get involved. This week has held loads of overtime for me - nearly twenty hours! - so that's double my contract and a bit. Because of this, I'm looking forward to my rather healthy pay slip at the end of February! To be fair, I'm going to need it - my bank account has looked rather grim since Christmas Eve. Hey ho I suppose, hopefully I'll still be able to get that grant from Student Finance for my degree. I should have applied for it in September but never mind...
When I'm not working or at college, I'm either sleeping, writing or doing housework these days. I've got a couple of photography projects to work on including some voluntary stuff for a friend and the charity, Mind. I'm at a festival on the 15th of February in Carlisle for Get Your Rock Out. It's called Rockmantic and is for all the rock 'lovers' out there. I think it a pretty cute idea to be honest and I'm really, really looking forward to going down. Hopefully if I do well enough there they'll send me to Hammerfest or Bloodstock or one of the other big festivals this year. I was asked to do Damnation for them last year but I couldn't get the time of work. I'll be buying my train tickets for Rockmantic in the morning - I'm super excited! With all of that in mind, hopefully at some point in the near future, Charlotte and I will be going down to the Warner Brothers Studio in Watford to go to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter for which I am even more excited!!! She's been before but really wants to go again and I've not been and am desperate to go - I had the chance last year but couldn't make it at the time, nor did I have any money for their gift shop and I would have been very sad indeed if I couldn't buy anything while I was there...
There was more that I was going to post tonight but I got distracted by a few different things at once e.g. apple crumble tart and twitter. And Pottermore. And Burns Night. And Wattpad... So nighty night. I may write more tomorrow during the break in my shifts at work. 11.30-4.30 and then 6-10 - the joys!
That aside, most things have been going pretty well. My tattoo has healed beautifully, my degree's going well and my medication has stabilised for now. I think I'm successfully not addicted to Diazepam and my last therapy session is on the first Monday in February. It would have been last Monday but due to the inclement weather conditions, Sarah and I just spoke over the phone. We agreed that, because my anxiety was still quite an issue and I didn't really want any telephone sessions, she would provide me with a reading list of helpful books in order to try and keep everything under control. My review date for where I'm at mentally will now be May 4th (Star Wars Day!!!) rather than the 21st of April but not to worry - it's a three month wait whichever way you slice it! I've got a review at the doctors for my tablets in a week or two, I'll have to mention that I'm still getting very anxious from time to time so I'm not sure what'll be going on there. I'm fairly certain he want's to take me off the Diazepam altogether since it's so addictive but I'm just a touch worried that I'll get too anxious and things without it... Maybe he'll exchange it for something else rather than just leaving me hanging.
Work's not been too bad - that problem colleague has now mostly downgraded to telling all the staff members not to talk to me because "they'll get in trouble" since I apparently grassed him up. It's annoying but it's schoolboy stuff and I can't be bothered to get involved. This week has held loads of overtime for me - nearly twenty hours! - so that's double my contract and a bit. Because of this, I'm looking forward to my rather healthy pay slip at the end of February! To be fair, I'm going to need it - my bank account has looked rather grim since Christmas Eve. Hey ho I suppose, hopefully I'll still be able to get that grant from Student Finance for my degree. I should have applied for it in September but never mind...
When I'm not working or at college, I'm either sleeping, writing or doing housework these days. I've got a couple of photography projects to work on including some voluntary stuff for a friend and the charity, Mind. I'm at a festival on the 15th of February in Carlisle for Get Your Rock Out. It's called Rockmantic and is for all the rock 'lovers' out there. I think it a pretty cute idea to be honest and I'm really, really looking forward to going down. Hopefully if I do well enough there they'll send me to Hammerfest or Bloodstock or one of the other big festivals this year. I was asked to do Damnation for them last year but I couldn't get the time of work. I'll be buying my train tickets for Rockmantic in the morning - I'm super excited! With all of that in mind, hopefully at some point in the near future, Charlotte and I will be going down to the Warner Brothers Studio in Watford to go to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter for which I am even more excited!!! She's been before but really wants to go again and I've not been and am desperate to go - I had the chance last year but couldn't make it at the time, nor did I have any money for their gift shop and I would have been very sad indeed if I couldn't buy anything while I was there...
There was more that I was going to post tonight but I got distracted by a few different things at once e.g. apple crumble tart and twitter. And Pottermore. And Burns Night. And Wattpad... So nighty night. I may write more tomorrow during the break in my shifts at work. 11.30-4.30 and then 6-10 - the joys!
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
The End Is Nigh... Look Busy!
So next week heralds the end of my CBT sessions. I'm almost looking forward to it - my Monday mornings can be my lazy day lie-in again for the first time in forever! It's not only that though, I'm excited to be able to really have a chance to do this on my own at last - to test myself and see if I'm ready to stand up without Sarah as my weekly safety net.
Standard procedure for the end of a session of intensive CBT is 'give it three months and reevaluate'. So on March 21st - fitting, I believe at least, since it's the first day of Spring - I've got to see where I'm at and how far I've come mentally and physically as to whether I needed any top-up sessions or new courses of therapy etc. In a few weeks I'm back at the doctors to see how my medication is going. I'm finally used to not having so much Diazepam now so everything has calmed down nicely where that's concerned. Eventually I'll be able to come off everything, I think, but I'm not sure when - if tablets and them occasionally making me ill or really hyper is the price I have to pay to deal with the depression and anxiety, then I'll go through with it gladly.
As far as my psoriasis goes, it's getting steadily worse but I don't particularly want to go back to the hospital about it. I'm thinking just sun-beds and lots of intensive moisturiser - I'm not using my steroid creams at all any more, they're just too damaging for my skin. They make it thin and fragile and greasy and eventually, I get resistant to them so they stop working and I end up needing stronger ones. Frankly, they're foul. They look awful. They smell awful. They feel awful. Some of them stain clothes and bedding. It's just not fun. It could certainly be worse but if I can get by without I'm damn well going to!
On a substantially happier note, I got some new Benefit make-up recently which I've been desperate to try out properly. I got Brows A-Go-Go yesterday to go with todays eye brow waxing (first ever wax, it's really not that bad!) so I think I'm going to use that properly tomorrow when I go out to visit Stitch whom I haven't seen in quite a bit over a year. I'm taking cupcakes, six vanilla and six chocolate, as a 'sorry it's been so long but now I've got a working oven' present for him, Kymmie and Harrison. I'm looking forward to it. It's always a really relaxing environment and we've been good friends for ages ergo I'm fully intending to spend the vast majority of the day there.
I also got two assignments from college today, one is solely a photographic project - painting with light in order to advertise a product - and the other is an essay that has to be accompanied by an image in the style of the photographer that you chose to do the essay about. I'm looking forward to both of them - mostly the painting with light one, to be honest - and I've got a pretty long time to do them both too.
For the remainder of the time before I sleep I think I'm going to read. Nighty night!
Standard procedure for the end of a session of intensive CBT is 'give it three months and reevaluate'. So on March 21st - fitting, I believe at least, since it's the first day of Spring - I've got to see where I'm at and how far I've come mentally and physically as to whether I needed any top-up sessions or new courses of therapy etc. In a few weeks I'm back at the doctors to see how my medication is going. I'm finally used to not having so much Diazepam now so everything has calmed down nicely where that's concerned. Eventually I'll be able to come off everything, I think, but I'm not sure when - if tablets and them occasionally making me ill or really hyper is the price I have to pay to deal with the depression and anxiety, then I'll go through with it gladly.
As far as my psoriasis goes, it's getting steadily worse but I don't particularly want to go back to the hospital about it. I'm thinking just sun-beds and lots of intensive moisturiser - I'm not using my steroid creams at all any more, they're just too damaging for my skin. They make it thin and fragile and greasy and eventually, I get resistant to them so they stop working and I end up needing stronger ones. Frankly, they're foul. They look awful. They smell awful. They feel awful. Some of them stain clothes and bedding. It's just not fun. It could certainly be worse but if I can get by without I'm damn well going to!
On a substantially happier note, I got some new Benefit make-up recently which I've been desperate to try out properly. I got Brows A-Go-Go yesterday to go with todays eye brow waxing (first ever wax, it's really not that bad!) so I think I'm going to use that properly tomorrow when I go out to visit Stitch whom I haven't seen in quite a bit over a year. I'm taking cupcakes, six vanilla and six chocolate, as a 'sorry it's been so long but now I've got a working oven' present for him, Kymmie and Harrison. I'm looking forward to it. It's always a really relaxing environment and we've been good friends for ages ergo I'm fully intending to spend the vast majority of the day there.
I also got two assignments from college today, one is solely a photographic project - painting with light in order to advertise a product - and the other is an essay that has to be accompanied by an image in the style of the photographer that you chose to do the essay about. I'm looking forward to both of them - mostly the painting with light one, to be honest - and I've got a pretty long time to do them both too.
For the remainder of the time before I sleep I think I'm going to read. Nighty night!
Wednesday, 26 December 2012
Breakthroughs
I keep having little breakthroughs at my CBT sessions. Unfortunately, almost as soon as I've gotten home after a session I forget what it was. The breakthrough and the thinking patterns it brings don't tend to leave me, just the actual thing itself. I find this really rather annoying because I always want to write them down...
I guess I want to record them so that when I'm feeling really awful, I can remember how I should be thinking and how I can change my thinking and my behaviour to something better and more effective/productive.
I'm getting a little better at it now but I know I could still improve.
I think, tomorrow, I'm going to spend most of the day tidying the flat and things - it's getting a little out of hand... After tidying I'm going to pop into work and buy an iPad 2 - I'm astoundingly excited about this, it seems like a beautiful use of my christmas money. I think I'm going to come home, sync it all up with my mac and my iPhone, take the music off my phone, update my iPod and properly organise my life a bit. I'm feeling surprisingly productive at the moment!
I guess I want to record them so that when I'm feeling really awful, I can remember how I should be thinking and how I can change my thinking and my behaviour to something better and more effective/productive.
I'm getting a little better at it now but I know I could still improve.
I think, tomorrow, I'm going to spend most of the day tidying the flat and things - it's getting a little out of hand... After tidying I'm going to pop into work and buy an iPad 2 - I'm astoundingly excited about this, it seems like a beautiful use of my christmas money. I think I'm going to come home, sync it all up with my mac and my iPhone, take the music off my phone, update my iPod and properly organise my life a bit. I'm feeling surprisingly productive at the moment!
A piece of history.
About this time, nine years ago, I found out that my best friend had killed herself.
We were eleven, as close as you can be, but I had absolutely no clue what was going on in her head that Christmas day. She was found in her bedroom by a member of her family - she'd hung herself. There were plenty rumours about how and what with and what position she'd been in but to me all that was by the by. The brightest, happiest, kindest person I knew was gone.
In school I remember it was mentioned a time or two. We were offered the chance to go to counselling but none of us took it - we knew we'd be ridiculed if we did. I was continually bullied by people who had, before this event, been both friends of myself and Georgi - they told me it was my fault and that I wasn't a good enough friend or that she was never friends with me and so on and so forth. This on top of already being bullied pretty much since I started school (for being overweight, more intelligent than all of my classmates and needing glasses) made everything pretty hard.
I don't know exactly when my depression started. As for the anxiety, I've always worried a lot and sometimes it would get out of hand. My mam confessed the other day that she's been shit scared for me since Georgi died. Understandably I guess - how can you possibly know what your 11 year old daughter is thinking/feeling after that experience? Unfortunately, when I told my mam I thought I had depression, at 12 years old, she brushed it off. When I mentioned it again, she got angry. She has/had a lot of her own problems which would often have an effect on her memory, emotions or mental state so I've always figured that when I got that kind of reaction from her I should probably just drop it - I knew there was a 95% chance she would forget it ever happened anyway.
At 12, nearly 13, I started self-harming. Superficial stuff, nothing too nasty, light cuts on my arms, wrists, thighs and chest with either a pencil sharpener blade or a stanley knife. I think I was 15 when my mam found out. She completely flipped and made me swear I'd never do it again or else she'd tell my dad. I wasn't sure what this would entail exactly since he'd never really been a big part of my life after the divorce when I was 3 but I didn't want him to find out so I agreed, grudgingly. I stuck pretty well to the 'no self-harm' rule until earlier this year, the summer, just before my 20th birthday. By this point I was going to therapy but not on medication.
As much as I have, in the past, wanted to take my own life, I always think of how horribly Georgi's death affected me. I don't want to do that to anyone. I don't want to cause my boyfriend, my friends, my family, pain in killing myself. I want my life to make a difference. I want to live for both me and for Georgi - taking life to the fullest and being the best I can possibly be.
Sometimes, I think it's that kind of pressure that I put on myself that can be the cause of my depression and anxiety but, if it keeps me alive, that's good enough.
We were eleven, as close as you can be, but I had absolutely no clue what was going on in her head that Christmas day. She was found in her bedroom by a member of her family - she'd hung herself. There were plenty rumours about how and what with and what position she'd been in but to me all that was by the by. The brightest, happiest, kindest person I knew was gone.
In school I remember it was mentioned a time or two. We were offered the chance to go to counselling but none of us took it - we knew we'd be ridiculed if we did. I was continually bullied by people who had, before this event, been both friends of myself and Georgi - they told me it was my fault and that I wasn't a good enough friend or that she was never friends with me and so on and so forth. This on top of already being bullied pretty much since I started school (for being overweight, more intelligent than all of my classmates and needing glasses) made everything pretty hard.
I don't know exactly when my depression started. As for the anxiety, I've always worried a lot and sometimes it would get out of hand. My mam confessed the other day that she's been shit scared for me since Georgi died. Understandably I guess - how can you possibly know what your 11 year old daughter is thinking/feeling after that experience? Unfortunately, when I told my mam I thought I had depression, at 12 years old, she brushed it off. When I mentioned it again, she got angry. She has/had a lot of her own problems which would often have an effect on her memory, emotions or mental state so I've always figured that when I got that kind of reaction from her I should probably just drop it - I knew there was a 95% chance she would forget it ever happened anyway.
At 12, nearly 13, I started self-harming. Superficial stuff, nothing too nasty, light cuts on my arms, wrists, thighs and chest with either a pencil sharpener blade or a stanley knife. I think I was 15 when my mam found out. She completely flipped and made me swear I'd never do it again or else she'd tell my dad. I wasn't sure what this would entail exactly since he'd never really been a big part of my life after the divorce when I was 3 but I didn't want him to find out so I agreed, grudgingly. I stuck pretty well to the 'no self-harm' rule until earlier this year, the summer, just before my 20th birthday. By this point I was going to therapy but not on medication.
As much as I have, in the past, wanted to take my own life, I always think of how horribly Georgi's death affected me. I don't want to do that to anyone. I don't want to cause my boyfriend, my friends, my family, pain in killing myself. I want my life to make a difference. I want to live for both me and for Georgi - taking life to the fullest and being the best I can possibly be.
Sometimes, I think it's that kind of pressure that I put on myself that can be the cause of my depression and anxiety but, if it keeps me alive, that's good enough.
Friday, 21 December 2012
Medicated
So since the blog's maiden voyage - well, post, rather - I've done a few things. I've been to the doctor's. The wonderful, jumpy Dr McMeds then upped my Citalopram to 30mg from 20mg and put me on 2mg of Diazepam - a sleeping medication administered if Propanolol 'doesn't quite hit the mark'.
I've also decided that this 'privacy' lark is pointless - if I was THAT bothered, I'd obviously have created a totally new and relatively untraceable email address rather than using the one connected to everything I have (pretty much) on the internet. And not just that but I know this blog is linked in some way to my Google+ account so privacy is pretty much a moot point. That said, hi folks, I'm Sarah. I'll be putting up an about me somewhere and possibly editing this page in other ways to add more of the 'me' element.
The last major thing I've done, I think, is tell my mum about all this. Not the blog, but all of the depression and anxiety and therapy and medication. I always thought I'd never do that because she'd worry too much or freak out or be angry but she was surprisingly calm about it all. She said she was relieved and proud that I was doing the right thing and getting help when I recognised that I needed it. When I told her I hadn't wanted to tell her in case she was worried, she said she'd been worried about me since Georgi died (more on this later). There was also some truth-telling on her part as well but I'm not too sure how appropriate it is to mention all of that really. As much as I'm not bothered about my privacy, the personal dealings of my friends and family are another matter entirely.
All that said, I have to go and get ready for work now. I'll do a 'Medicated cont.' either tonight when I get in or tomorrow.
I've also decided that this 'privacy' lark is pointless - if I was THAT bothered, I'd obviously have created a totally new and relatively untraceable email address rather than using the one connected to everything I have (pretty much) on the internet. And not just that but I know this blog is linked in some way to my Google+ account so privacy is pretty much a moot point. That said, hi folks, I'm Sarah. I'll be putting up an about me somewhere and possibly editing this page in other ways to add more of the 'me' element.
The last major thing I've done, I think, is tell my mum about all this. Not the blog, but all of the depression and anxiety and therapy and medication. I always thought I'd never do that because she'd worry too much or freak out or be angry but she was surprisingly calm about it all. She said she was relieved and proud that I was doing the right thing and getting help when I recognised that I needed it. When I told her I hadn't wanted to tell her in case she was worried, she said she'd been worried about me since Georgi died (more on this later). There was also some truth-telling on her part as well but I'm not too sure how appropriate it is to mention all of that really. As much as I'm not bothered about my privacy, the personal dealings of my friends and family are another matter entirely.
All that said, I have to go and get ready for work now. I'll do a 'Medicated cont.' either tonight when I get in or tomorrow.
Tuesday, 18 December 2012
Hello World!
Now that I've started this blog, and configured it all to how I want it (for now at least), I don't know what to write.
I'm simply not entirely sure where to start. I want to introduce myself but I also want to keep my level of privacy. I want to get straight to the point but that seems a little blunt. I don't want to be all namby-pamby but at the same time I don't want to start this blog by being overly brutal. That's just not me.
I guess we'll have to go with at least a slightly more direct approach for now at least. Doubtless it won't last, it makes me slightly uncomfortable since it's very "Look at me! Behold my issues!" and people who are like that piss me off something rotten - mental problems are not something to be celebrated.
I was recently - I'll get a more specific timeline later - diagnosed with depression and anxiety. At this point I was already undergoing my second course of treatment for 'low mood, anxiety and low self-esteem'. My depression, at the time of my diagnosis, was so severe I was immediately advised to start taking Citalopram. A week later, the Citalopram - two per day - had made my anxiety so bad that I also had to start taking up to three Propanolol every day, as needed.
I'm going to go into exactly how my therapy sessions and my medication have effected me in due course but for now I think I'm going to go back to writing a little more about what I want to do with this blog.
I've been blogging for over a year now on Wordpress but it's most recent interface change was the last straw - I used to hate the way blogger looked in a similar way to how I'm uncomfortable with the way Wordpress has changed. I also had a number of people following that blog who don't currently know about my mental health situation and I would like to keep it that way until I am completely ready.
I'm not really sure what to do about the rather sizeable number of posts I have over on WP. I kind of want to have everything archived in one place but at the same time I'm not sure if I want to go about importing them all - e.g. is it really relevant? - and that would probably take forever thus I can't really be bothered right now...
I want to have this blog primarily as a 'this is how I'm coping with my conditions' record but I also want to have it as my main blog for my daily life. I want to be able to post here everyday at least once about everything and anything from my medication to my work, my family and my pole dancing!
I hope it works out alright - blogging really does help with the whole depression and anxiety thing. It's nice to get everything off my chest.
I'm simply not entirely sure where to start. I want to introduce myself but I also want to keep my level of privacy. I want to get straight to the point but that seems a little blunt. I don't want to be all namby-pamby but at the same time I don't want to start this blog by being overly brutal. That's just not me.
I guess we'll have to go with at least a slightly more direct approach for now at least. Doubtless it won't last, it makes me slightly uncomfortable since it's very "Look at me! Behold my issues!" and people who are like that piss me off something rotten - mental problems are not something to be celebrated.
I was recently - I'll get a more specific timeline later - diagnosed with depression and anxiety. At this point I was already undergoing my second course of treatment for 'low mood, anxiety and low self-esteem'. My depression, at the time of my diagnosis, was so severe I was immediately advised to start taking Citalopram. A week later, the Citalopram - two per day - had made my anxiety so bad that I also had to start taking up to three Propanolol every day, as needed.
I'm going to go into exactly how my therapy sessions and my medication have effected me in due course but for now I think I'm going to go back to writing a little more about what I want to do with this blog.
I've been blogging for over a year now on Wordpress but it's most recent interface change was the last straw - I used to hate the way blogger looked in a similar way to how I'm uncomfortable with the way Wordpress has changed. I also had a number of people following that blog who don't currently know about my mental health situation and I would like to keep it that way until I am completely ready.
I'm not really sure what to do about the rather sizeable number of posts I have over on WP. I kind of want to have everything archived in one place but at the same time I'm not sure if I want to go about importing them all - e.g. is it really relevant? - and that would probably take forever thus I can't really be bothered right now...
I want to have this blog primarily as a 'this is how I'm coping with my conditions' record but I also want to have it as my main blog for my daily life. I want to be able to post here everyday at least once about everything and anything from my medication to my work, my family and my pole dancing!
I hope it works out alright - blogging really does help with the whole depression and anxiety thing. It's nice to get everything off my chest.
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