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.

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.

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!

Day 1 of Mirtazapine...

I took my first Mirtazapine last night with my Propranolol and Diazepam. I felt fine and I fell asleep almost straight away. I was still exhausted when I woke up like nine hours later!

I was irritable and oversensitive when I got up and when my partner snapped at me because I was making too much rustling noise (my business cards came and I got a little excited about opening them immediately) I became scared and upset because I automatically assumed that he was really pissed off at me. 

Naturally, he wasn't and once I calmed down, I was able to get ready and leave for work. Upon getting there, I came over feeling light-headed and weak. I was nauseous and so tired I could barely stand! Walking was a chore, I was disorientated and confused. I couldn't talk without really concentrating and even when I was sitting down I was clumsy and tired. I kept dropping things and pressing the wrong buttons. An hour and a half in I was feeling worse than ever so I called over one of my supervisors and they arranged for me to go home. I was supposed to go to the hospital on account of how ill I was feeling (light-headed, lethargic, tight chest, short of breath etc) so I called my step-dad, after calling Matt and my mam, to take me there. We got halfway through the one-way maze that is Newcastle's roads before he got so frustrated that he started ranting about how the situation was 'a fucking nightmare'. I was getting really nervous and feeling worse than ever (since it was a fairly hot day and he had the heat blasting 'to cool the engine down') so I offered to just get out and make my own way there. He agreed that would be best and I left. I decided then to screw the hospital and just come home.

I've been home a few hours now and I feel a bit better. I've managed to have lunch and then had a cheese sandwich a few hours ago and I'm trying to keep hydrated but all in all I'm still feeling pretty naff...

I'm just making a watermark for my images at the moment while watching Archer. I'm about to upload a bunch more photography to my photoblog to keep it up to date. Adding the watermark will hopefully stop any theft from happening instantly...

Yesterday I actually managed to do a backwards roll out of an aerial yoga hammock - I was incredibly proud of myself. The session itself was pretty hard, really relaxing though. I spent the two hours prior to that in rent-a-pole/flex spinning and stretching and flipping myself into flexy oblivion. I managed to get into a 'crab' position from my knees but unfortunately not from my feet - give me time and I'll do it though. I'm aching like hell now though. Can't wait until Monday for my next pole class! If I'm up to it by then that is...

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!

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):

1. Spiders - this is the big one. The only spiders I can usually 'tolerate' are the tiny, tiny, tiny ones. 
2. Centipedes/Millipedes and maggots
3. Most things that have more than four legs (why on earth would anything need more that four legs?)
4. Sharks
5. Imagined 'things' (note: this is usually when I have had a bad meds day or some such)
6. Imagined 'things' in the dark (see note above)
7. Making people angry
8. Deep water (including points 3 and 4)
9. Going crazy
10. 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... 

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.)

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!

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.