I Have A Diagnosis - Kinda

Hey there you cuties. It has been a while since I've posted. Nothing has really been going on, except cleaning. So what was there to talk about? For those who don't know, I've been sick for a while and running like a hamster on a wheel through a myriad of tests and specialist visits over the past 18 months. It has been very difficult and has affected my physical and mental health.

Today I saw my GP. I was there to have a script renewed when she told me that she had been sent a copy of my MRI results that the Rheumatologist ordered. She stated that while she couldn't give me a definitive diagnosis, the MRI results were indicative of Rheumatoid Arthritis. As it is up to the specialist to diagnose me she isn't able to decide the treatment, so at this stage I am not actively being treated.

While I am thankful for a diagnosis I have to say that I'm not too happy about having Rheumatoid Arthritis. As for you, you're probably wondering what the heck it is. Better Health has a decent little rundown. However, it is basically an autoimmune disease that causes pain and inflammation​ of the joints, along with fatigue and sleep difficulties. There are also other annoying things like dry eyes, feeling like you always have something stuck in your throat, and the affected joints feel warm. So I can rarely keep my feet under the doona at night.

Once the specialist see's me in June I will likely be put on a disease modifying antirheumetic medication (DMARD). They are pretty full-on, with some serious side effects, but it does mean I may be able to get my life back on track, and could even be able to re-enter the workforce! Yay!

Anyway, that's it from me at almost 1am. I need to try to get some sleep. Please feel free to hit me up with any questions about RA. Or just to chat. Whatevz. ❤️

"You're Not Crazy"

Urgh what a busy day. Productive but exhausting, although I think the most productive days do take it out of you. For me it has been a day of medical appointments. Lots of stuff going on there.

First up I had an appointment at the hospital with the pre-op team. I am having some day surgery for a gynaecological issue. After everything else that has been happening with ms lately they wanted me to see the anaesthetist before we committed to a surgery date. We ticked the boxes and talked about the surgery and all of the other boring bits before being sent on our way with a promise that someone will call soon with a surgery date and time.

I went for a little drive to kill some time. An old favourite coffee shop has changed owners so I wanted to see what the new vibe was like. I ordered a coffee and some hummingbird cake because I'm a weak-willed animal. Thankfully the coffee was amazing and filled in for some of the energy I was lacking. The hummingbird cake only served to make the world feel like a better place.

Next up was a drive in towards the city to see a rheumatologist. You can imagine my surprise when this specialist was on time. A novelty. Anyroad I sat in with him for a while. He read my test results, talked about my history, did a bit of a physical exam and then wrote me a referral for an MRI on my foot. Another test. Yay! However the best part was hearing him say "You're not crazy. There is something wrong. We just need to figure out what it is." I've been starting to worry that I am crazy and that this is all psychosomatic.

On my way home I got a call from the hospital asking me to come for surgery next Thursday. For surgery in the fternoon. So I get to fast during the day. I'm going to be so much fun to be around.

All in all it has felt like a day where I am finding some issues on their way to being resolved. It is a massive weight off my shoulders. I just wish we could hurry up and start getting a diagnosis for the $350 for each of these specialist appointments I've been to lately.

Just Get Over It

It's the motto of the people. Just Get Over It. Because a mental illness isn't really an illness. You don't need to diagnose it, or treat it, or beat it. You just need to Just Get Over It.

So many people love to regale me with stories about how they had a hard time after a break up and then they just got over it. They just decided that they weren't going to be sad about it anymore. So they just put their problems away and got on with their life. Hooray!

Unfortunately mental illness isn't like that. It manifests over time. It builds and builds and builds, slowly infecting the rest of your life like the fucking parasite that it is. For me it started as a few years at school, not knowing what your crying about. Moving on to hurting myself with a number of tools. When I reached drinking age it became a new way of hurting myself. Drink til I'm sick. Behave in ways that weren't very kind to myself. My dignity took a battering. I stopped feel proud of myself.

Over the years I have tried to fight it. I have tried to Just Get Over It. It hasn't worked. In fact, I think it has made it even worse. The anxiety grew and grew. The sadness and emptiness deepened. The self hatred got stronger.

Through all of this I have come to realise that I can't beat this. Instead of trying to Just Get Over It I need to treat it. In order to treat it, I need to accept it. Accept that I am going to be anxious. Accept that we are going to get depressed. Accept that we are worthy

My Bipolar Marriage

It's not easy having Bipolar Affective Disorder and being married. My moods rapidly cycle. It's hard to love someone else when you don't love yourself. Sometimes I have to be selfish and take time out for myself. Sometimes I feel like I can't even function as a human, let alone a wife.

With my moods, at one moment I'm up, the next I'm way way way down. It's hard to live happily ever after when you hit rock bottom and get out of bed. It can be dizzying for my husband when one moment I'm lower than low and the next I'm bouncing around the house wanting to do everything at once. However most often I find myself on the depressed side of my disorder. I can also be the angriest, crankiest bitch when I want to be. My flight response is so ingrained that every other week I've decided it is probably best that I leave the relationship.

It's hard to love your husband when you can't even love yourself. It's a bloody horrible thing to say, but there are days where I feel that there is just not an ounce of love in my body that I just muster to share with anyone. What little I have, I give to my children. Unfortunately sometimes he misses out. That makes me feel like a really shitty person.

There are weeks where I have to take time out to focus on my own mental health, leaving my husband behind to deal with all of the stress and responsibility. This past two months I have been in a psychiatric hospital three times. For a minimum of two weeks at a time. During that time he has had to endure his own issues that have made life harder for him than it should be. What makes me feel even more terrible is knowing that I am not there for him when he needs me most.

Sometimes the illness takes over and I feel like I don't even want to get out of bed. I either start the day not wanting to get out of bed and have to get Husbfriend to look after getting the kids organised for school/care while I stay in bed, or I start the day OK and then find myself in my bed with no way of getting out again. Then he finds that instead of just coming straight home and relaxing, he has to do the child care run to get the baby to bring home to the lazy wife. On these days I am lucky to have showered, let alone made dinner.

However other days I decide that I want to get everyting done at once and I start cleaning every room at the one time. Pull all of the crap out of every room and put it on the dining table. I zip around from room to room doing bits and pieces here and there, only to find that I haven't actually achieved anything much and it is time for dinner and all of the shit that I have piled on the dining table needs to be shoved back in to the rooms they came from and I have wasted a whole day.

Thankfully through all of this I have a kind, loving, caring man who is a pillar of strength in our family. Without him being the person that he is, my marriage would have dissolved a long time ago. I do realise each and every day how lucky I am to be married to a man like him. I'm looking forward to getting this illness of mine managed enough for me to be able to be at least half the wife this amazing man deserves.

A Conversation With A Friend

Recently I had a conversation with a friend of mine named Hayley. She had recently had a stay at Belmont Hospital too so I wanted to discuss her experiences.

A: How did you find your experience there?

H: I think I was more motivated at the beginning than at the end. Like, I kind of got over it at the end. But going in there I was just happy to be doing something to help myself. So I kind of felt good about going in and I felt really good during CBT because it was structured and I felt like part of the group, because we all got to know each other in that group and it was a nice group of people to be with.

A: How long were you in there for in total?

H: I was there for four weeks altogether, and two of them were in CBT. But I found that when CBT finished I felt like I was missing something. I had to do random groups that I wasn’t as interested in and that didn’t help me as much.

A: I found a very similar thing.  You’d get excited about a new course that you think is going to be totally amazing, like creative writing. I went there and I really enjoyed it. So the next time I went I thought it was going to build on that last stuff, but the second course was exactly the same. I think the even told the same jokes. Nothing was different. It felt like a waste of my time, but what else was I going to do with my time, really?

H: I ended up avoiding all of the informational sessions as I’d done it all in CBT anyway and I wasn’t getting anything out of them. I ended up going to the mindfulness colouring in and doing the mandalas and crafts, as it takes your mind off stuff because you’re just focusing on that, which is good.

A: Speaking of which I went for a walk this morning and took my Calm The Fuck Down colouring in book with me to do while I had a coffee. It was lovely. Problem is that I find that with the neuropathic pain in my hand I have about 20 mins of colouring in ahead of me before I’m done.

H: Have you tried the colouring in apps?

A: No but I have tried the Headspace App (give info about headspace app)

A: How did you find it when you went home?

H I don’t think I was too much better or worse. I think there were things I was able to better handle, but there wasn’t a really big improvement or anything.

A: For me, what I was talking to Trent about it being like was it being a massive floodgate being opened and all my emotions coming vomiting out that I hadn’t dealt either properly or at all over the 40 years. And now that I have done that and come home, I don’t know how to close it, I don’t know if I’m supposed to close it. But my emotions are wild. And I was wondering if that was something you’d experienced, if your emotions are more out of control since going home?

H: Not really. One of my problems is that I don’t feel enough emotions. I’ve just repressed it enough that there’s not really any feelings anymore. There is this numb, flat feeling, and that hasn’t changed. That was something I was hoping would change, to be able to have emotions.

A: That’s the shitty thing. The only day group you can go to is CBT and once you’ve done that all you’re left with are the individual sessions, which have usually been covered by CBT or are your arts and crafts, and mindfulness colouring in groups. You leave hospital an come back, and you can’t do any of the outpatient programs while you’re an inpatient.

So if your psychiatrist suggested you go back in as an inpatient again, is that something you’d consider?

H: Yeah I would because I didn’t hate it. It is good to be able to see the psychiatrist every day, and it is good to be away from the real world when you’re feeling overwhelmed. I think I would go back in, but not for as long as for the first time.

A: Do you have a plan to go back in at some point in time in the near future?

H: It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I don’t think I need to. I go through cycles for months and then I have a cycle where I get really bad and I’m not in one of those at the moment. I’m just cruising along. Not feeling too bad, but not feeling too good either. Just kind of existing.

A: Did they give you a diagnosis?

H: They gave me a diagnosis of depression, anxiety, BPD and investigating me for ADHD.

H: People have a view of what a disorder is, or what it should be, and the reality of that si quite different, especially around the hyperactivity part. More about fidgeting, not being able to sit still, as opposed to being manic and uncontrollable.

A: Now you’re doing an outreach program at the moment, is that correct?

H: I’m enrolled for DBT and there are no places in that as yet, so in the interm I’m doing an outreach program which has me seeing a mental health nurse weekly, and then I get a free consult with my psychiatrist. It saves you having to pay big bucks to see your psychiatrist on the regular. DBT is a big commitment as it is 2 days a week for 6 months.

N.B Just as a side note, Hayley has recently returned to Belmont to be monitored for a medication change. Nothing to drastic, but it was worth noting in the context of the discussion.

Self Care Sunday

It's one thing to focus on the negative mental health state. It's a whole other to focus on the positive side. The self care side.

As a consequence I have decided that Sunday will now be known as Self Care Sunday. Each Sunday I am going to do something good for myself. Something physical, social, emotional. Just something.

So today I had my girlfriend come see me to cut my hair and wax my eyebrows. I joked that my eyebrows were actually caterpillar's who had half digested their dinner. In fact I only half joked. They really did look that way.

I am pleased to state that not only have my hair and eyebrows improved, but my sense of well-being has improved too. That could have been the awesome company too.

While it is important to think about what is weighing you down, it is important to consider what will help us float.

Aaaaaaaaand We're Back.

On Thursday evening I did something I would never suggest anyone ever do. I attempted to overdose on a fist full of pills. In retrospect it was more an exercise in self-harm. There was no well thought out plan. There was no giving away of my things. There was no note. In a moment of desperation I swallowed a fist full of my pain meds and then decided what a stupid idea that was and immediately notified my husband.

An ambulance was called and within 20 mins or so I was shunted off to the local hospital for observation. The pills I took didn't warrant having my stomach pumped, so that was a good thing. I was under observation for 12 hours and I woke feeling extremely bratty about the fact that my Husbfriend hadn't been there. Later on I found out that he had been there for hours, but I was pretty much incomprehensible by that stage. There was a mere muttering of words and a few brief movements on the bed, but that was about it.

Come Friday morning I was out of the woods and left in a state of extreme drunkenness without the fun of a good few tequila shots with good mates to balance it out. I couldn't walk a straight line. In fact I actually peed on my foot because I couldn't aim on the toilet properly (I don't sit down properly on public toilet seats). Now that I write it down this does sound much like a night out in my early 20s! All jokes aside the hospital contacted Belmont with the request that I be admitted here due to the high risk I was of reoffending, for lack of a better word. There was a lot of discussion between my Husbfriend and my psychiatrist about whether or not I would be admitted or not.

So I was discharged from Ippy hospital around 10am, went home for more sleep, and then was told to be back at Belmont for 2pm. Trying to get me organised was probably akin to getting a belligerent toddler to pack up his toys at bedtime. I was so so so so tired that I found it hard to get my act together to pack my stuff up. Sometime later I had my bag together and we were out the door, making it here somewhere between 2.30pm amd 3pm. Hooray for my time management skills!

My timing was terrible. My doctor left after our appointment and now won't be back until Monday. There are no activities of any value on over the weekend. So I kind of have to find my own way through the weekend. There are nurses here to talk to if I need to, but it isn't the same. Meanwhile I am spending time with another friend who has been admitted, gone for a bit of a walk, did some painting and moped around wondering how the hell I'm going to fix my broken little self.

If you have any tips or tricks, I'd be happy to hear them.

Love and hugs xxx

This Little Piggy Goes To Market

This weekend I'm doing my first ever market stall for my business as a Plumeria Independent Distributor. I'm nervous and anxious. I don't like being on my own for hours. I had my kit set up, I have my paperwork printed. I have everything I may need. But I already feel that I am going to fail.

My business is awesome. I sell bath bombs, shower bombs, and other beauty items. Recently I have been buying some items to have on hand. A trestle table has been purchased after doing a practice run on a card table and realising it was a bit too small. I took a photo of my smaller table set up but not the bigger one yet.

My anxiety and fears about this market stall scare me. Usually I use this as fuel for not doing what I was going to do at all. So normally I would stick my head in the sand like an emu, and pretend that the world wasn't happening around me. This time I have my trusty Google Pixel phone, I have my earphones, I have e a backlog of podcasts, and I will be surrounded by yummy food. What could go wrong?

With regards to preparation, I have a black and white version of the catalogue printed. I should go get a colour one done tomorrow. I need a display folder of sorts for that. My business cards arrived today and I have an armful of brochures. Not sure that there is much else I can have done.

Still, that nagging feeling is gnawing away at me. That awful anxiety. I have my meds to take if so need. But I find they make me tkees. I just want to be able to take it through the night.

Looking forward to proving myself wrong a d sharing a pic of my set up and talking about my success.

Are You OK?

***TRIGGER WARNING***

No. Tonight I'm not ok. My insides hurt, my brain hurts, my heart hurts, my skin hurts, my bones hurt, my everything hurts. My brain hurts the most. Followed by my heart.

My brain hurts because I know the way I act, or overreact comes from a shitty place. But I don't know how to get past it. It keeps ruining relationships for me. It stops me from being happy. It stops me from achieving everything I could possibly have ever achieved.

My heart hurts because it really is still just little Allison. That young girl who learns how to walk on eggshells and to try to not do/say the wrong thing least we released the dragon in my father. Sometimes if we gave him nothing to be angry about he would go looking for it. He would always find it in my bedroom. Clothes shoved under the bed, desk drawer cluttered and not messy. The clothes in my wardrobe may be on the floor of the wardrobe instead. Then the kraken would come cracking. He didn't just use psychological violence. Physical violence was his speciality. The amount of fractures my poor mother suffered are innumerable. Not to me room the territory anguish wondering whether tonight would be the night. And if it was my sister and​ I would argue about whose turn it was to get in the middle of them.

My skin, bones and everything hurts because of my stupid undiagnosed illness. I keep losing feeling in my fingers in both hands. The almost burning pain I feel down my spine. The fact that I now often poop my pants unknowingly. Like fucking hell. Haven't we got enough here???

So after having an argument with Trent I jumped in to the car wondering if I would just drive in to something or if I would just go back home. After a call from my eldest asking me where I've gone and when I'll be home, I think I will go home.

The Time Has Come To Say Farewell... Again

Tomorrow I pack up my worries in my own bag and smile. Or at least try to. I have so many feels and not all of them are good. How do I cope out there? What will be different? Will these meds work? I feel like these questions are just spinning around in my mind all day long. I get excited. I cry. I get excited. I cry. I feel dead on the inside. I cry. Blah blah blah.

I've come up with a few coping strategies. Exercise being one of them. Yep, you heard me right. I am going to get myself walking. Much easier now that the sun isn't trying to suffocate me every time I step out the door. I am going to walk, chuck in my earphones, listen to music, and zone out. There is also a thing called a worry box. You can either have a physical or metaphorical worry box. If there is a worry I write it down and put it in the box. It then gets dealt with at a particular time of the day. Say 7pm. The rest of the day I don't worry about those things. They get pushed aside to a time that is more convenient. Apparently most of the time people find that the things they worried about are no longer that important.

My attitude needs to be different to what it was last time. I need to stop being the victim. I need to stop running away. I need to stop catastrophising. That is one of my biggest issues. "If you got  problem, yo I'll make it a thousand times worse!"does not need to be my mantra. I need to learn to breathe deeper and slower and try to remain focused in the moment. Committing to things is important to. I am doing this Acceptance and Commitment Therapy class on Fridays. I need to commit to that. I am also starting a Cert III in Pathology Assistance in July. So I need to commit to that too. These aren't monumental tasks so I am pretty sure that I can do it. I just have to keep myself motivated. Any tips?

Recently I have begun taking Lithium. It's a mood stabiliser and reminds me of the Nirvana song of the same name. Usually I will read the heck out of the medication list, finding out the side effects, etc. To be honest I think that's made me feel worse. Almost in a psychosomatic sense. However what I do know is that it is used to treat the swinging moods of people with bipolar. So since it seems to be having a good affect on me so far the doctor said that it is a possibility that I have Bipolar Affective Disorder. So now I am on so many meds that I can't believe I have much room left for food. And yet I do!

I'm still waiting to see my doctor for the day, which is a bit annoying since I have been waiting since this morning. I understand he is busy, but I am very busy just sitting around and thinking about how shit I am.

Double Denim Day

Yesterday I had a chat with a friend about her outside view on the private psychiatric hospital that I'm in. We discussed her views before she came to visit, and after she arrived. We also discussed if she would consider admission if the situation were to arise for herself or for her make believe late teens child. We also talk about cheesy bread. A lot.

Prior India was under the impression that it would be a lot more clinical. Like, much less nice and comfortable. Originally she didn't think there would be anything nice about it at all, assuming it would be bare rooms, barred windows, typical movie type set up. Initially she was concerned she would have to sign in like a jail, behind locked doors. She expected the patients would not appear to be as "normal"as they mostly are. Another thing that struck her was the limited number of staff that are in the ward. There is more free reign and not as stringent monitoring. I filled her in on the fact that it is up to the doctors about who is monitored how regularly. I am not monitored regularly at all as I am much less of a risk to myself and others. It really isn't possible for me to just organise to sign in and out. The psychiatrist needs to give approval for me to have leave, how often they need to check me, etc. based on risk. Although those on stricter monitoring aren't watched by orderlies in white coats, like they are in the movies. I originally expected it to be more like https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ioBueVTZ0RM

India admitted to me that she has had some encounters in public mental health as a child seeing a psychiatrist, but never admitted as a patient at all. When asked if she'd consider being admitted if a health professional told her she would  benefit from being hospitalised, would she consider it, she said "Yeah I’d definitely be more inclined to do so. Less afraid. I’d be like wondering where the drugs are at. Hook a sister up! Where’s my sizzler buffet you c*nts are talking about? I want my cheesy bread!" Prior to having visited the hospital and seen it with her own eyes she originally would have told them to "literally go fuck themselves. No chance. None."!

What if the time came that she had a teenager sick enough to be here? "Fucking oath. Absolutely." I think that is something that is confronting for both of us as a parent. This isn’t as if it is an unrealistic possibility. Both of us have our own mental health issues, and that does increase the possibility of a child of our own growing up with them too. My stepson said to me “Yeah cool. I will probably need to come stay here myself sometime soon” hahahahaha. I find it frustrating seeing “normal”people out there who don’t come to places like this when clearly they should. And that is where the problem is. People are too afraid because they don't understand the reality.

To India, the place has a nice tone to it. Although the first time she visited and we went to dinner (still no fucking cheesy bread) she felt rather confronted by seeing some of the people were clearly depressed, or had obvious physical ailments, and those who were sitting alone because they are socially isolated and don’t know anyone or they are too anxious to sit with others. I must admit that I find the communal style of dining to be quite difficult and having to sit and eat with people I don’t know. Even after 4 or so weeks I still find it really awkward to sit across from someone I don’t know. I usually just plug in my earphones and listen to music while I eat.

The worst part about it would have to be the cost. A couple of weeks in a place like this would set you back a couple of thousand dollars. And there are some self funded people here. However with private health funds you are usually covered for psychiatric treatment 2 months after you start yor policy. Please check with a provider and don't take that as gospel. But for anyone who might need some extra help, please look in to it. Private psychiatric inpatient time is vastly different to public inpatient time.

A lapse or a relapse?

I'm back in hospital. Things didn't turn out the way I had expected. These things included my health, my brain, my general symptoms and my inability to feel safe at home. I was at a point where I would have hurt myself or run.

On Monday I had an appointment with my ortho spine specialist. Originally anticipated an appointment to discuss my surgery. He looked at my MRI results and figured that surgery would not do nahzhing. So now I'm back where I was 12 months ago with no idea of what's wrong with me, with hands that ache and go numb, often being unusable. I now hove ankles that sting when I walk, and hips that don't lie about how painful they are. So apparently I finally am getting the rheumatologist referral that I asked for months ago.

After absorbing this information about my health and pain I figured that I wasn't too keen on spending possibly the rest of my life like this. I started formulating an "exit plan". I felt really unsafe and anxious. So then I popped Valium and neulactil like they were lollies just to try to chill out. My psych and GP figured I needed hospital. Belmont doesn't do an Emergency section so I would have to go via the public system. So we skipped Ipswich and headed in to Royal Brisbane Hospital.

When ​we arrived they checked me in and quickly whisked the crazy lady out of the waiting room, only to find myself in another waiting room. I waited around 2 hours on my own before they brought food around. What they didn't factor in was the 5 anti-anxiety pills that I had taken just a few hours earlier. I was so damn tied. Needless to say that by the time they night dinner around halfway through the delicious meal of dried silverside with a side of ugly vegetables that were worth of my digestive tract, I fell asleep. My plate slipped and ended up as part of my clothing ensemble. Thankfully black leggings go with EVERYTHING! I asked for a bed but the logos said no. I had to be seen first. When they finally did offer me a bed I felt as welcome as a cold sore on formal night. Their preference was that I spend the night with my family and see my psychiatrist the next day.

Psychiatrist day came. Yippee! Finally I'd get the help I needed to keep me off the proverbial ledge. He pushed for me to stay at home. I told him if he did not admit me I would go to Toowong hospital and ask to be admitted. Finally he relented and here I am, in my own room and everything.

So here I am. With more to write once my hands feel better and it isn't 4am.

Hope you all slept well xxx

Home Again Jiggidy Jig

Well, ladies and gentlemen , I am back home!!! It hasn't been an easy time, but I'm getting there. It isn't easy coming from a controlled environment to one that is full of teenagers, a baby, a dog, and three cats. There was so much boy mess, and my senses were on overload. However Husbfriend has done an amazing job of looking after everything in my absence. Couldn't fault him, and wouldn't want to any way. Although the dog did need washing this morning. Smells better now.

The biggest thing I have found since leaving hospital is that a lot of what I brushed off as something else is actually anxiety. I can't take valium forever, so I have started vaping. No nicotine included. Just a vape with something sweet to curb my taste for sweet things. It helps me concentrate on my breathing. I'm a shallow breather naturally, so therefore my oxygen saturation always freaks people out. This is helping with that too. I understand that people will consider this silly, but considering after 10 years I was still tempted to ask for a cigarette this seemed like a better option.

My littlest man had swimming lessons yesterday. Honestly it is one of my most favourite parts of the week. We get to spend some precious time together and he has an absolute blast. This week my beautiful boy levelled up. He is now in Baby Group 3 and I'm super proud. What a way to end a shitty few weeks.

So this week is gonna be a big one. I started with washing the dog this morning, then off for an MRI later in the day (you know people are worried when they squeeze you in on a Sunday day). On Monday I see the spine surgeon and my psychologist, Tuesday my psychiatrist, Thursday I have an appt at Ipswich hospital for preadmission, and Friday. So much for taking it easy.

What do you have on to keep you busy this week?

It's Today! It's Today!

Well, I made it. I got out the other side of my time at Belmont Private Hospital. There is a mixture of joy and anxiety. Getting home vs leaving the comfort of a controlled environment.

Flowers from my beautiful Nanny's garden xx

Most of my morning was spent saying goodbye. I don't want to tag anyone due to their own privacy, but to the Unicorn Pony Queen I want to say thank you. You opened your heart and your arms, hugging me physically and figuratively. I know that life has dealt you a shitty hand, but you are tough enough to make it through. To my lovely Emerald Technology girl, thank you for being you. Thank you for arting with me, for eating with me, for walking with me, and for letting me in to your world. I'm sorry for the recent heartache you have to endure. Let me know if you need a wing man. Then there has been a lovely gentle, soft, kind-hearted Nina, who I don't have on Facebook so she isn't easily recognisable. I am not sure if you realise how far you have come since I first met you. You are an absolute credit to yourself. You are a fighter underneath that gentle facade. So keep fighting. Lastly thank you you roomie. Not only for being an amazing woman who I am glad to call a friend, but for the invaluable advice and support you offered me, particularly on the early days.

Discharge with my psychiatrist went very well. Just ticked the boxes, planned my appointments and my ACT group that I need to attend after here. It feels good to not be cast adrift, so to speak. The nursing station hadn't given me my discharge paperwork the evening before so that delayed my departure. All it took was a quick scribble with the pen on numerous bits of paper and I was good to go.

It was good to see my big boys as soon as I got home. Debbie Did Queensland which meant the kids were home. So I saw their faces as soon as I got in the door. I did feel missed, I must say. Although nobody made me feel more welcome than my pupper. Renly of House Barkratheon could barely contain himself. It was a battle between the dog and the baby for my attention. My heart swelled with pride. As we speak I have a cat friend chilling next to me, as close as he can get.

Both of our big boys wanted to attend Youth Group this evening. We dropped them off around 6.30pm and grabbed some Thai takeout for a night alone with the bub. I had the best Thai Green curry that I mixed with some extra frozen vegetables to replace the rice. Oh did I mention I've been doing Optifast for 2 meals a day since last Monday and I have already lost 2 kg? I haven't said? Well I have! Yahoo! But I digress. We fed ourselves and the baby. It was delicious and exactly what dinner after a return from 3 weeks in hospital should taste like.

We did set up the bed in Ezra's room to start a new habit. I lay down with him to watch some Brum reruns on Stan, only for me to fall asleep with him. Apparently I was asleep before him!  Not sure how long he will stay asleep before he cracks a shit, but I don't doubt we will figure it out.

I've dumped my nights worth of beds for the evening so I need to get to work closing my eyes. I don't want to half finishing this post and then fade off in to a series of zzzzzzzz. So I will wish you a goodnight from my own bed, while I try to simultaneously fall asleep and anxiously listen out for my baby boy in his own room. Sweet dreams to those of you still awake before reading this.

Love to you all xxx

The Day Before Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the day. It is a Friday, but it is also the day I am meant to be going home. I am both excited and anxious, but I'm also nervous about this horrific weather delaying my plans. Thanksfully I have my Squirtle to cuddle and remind me of my baby boy, whose nickname is Squirtle.

As many of you have likely heard, Brisbane is in the midst of some rotten weather. Well actually most of South East QLD and North East NSW. The train is too dangerous to drive in at times, roads are closing due to flooding, and we have to run the gauntlet between Carindale and Ipswich, which is around 40 mind for those who have no idea where these places are. Plus there are sharks on the road, so fuck driving alongside a fricking shark with fricking laser beams.

So lets say I make it home. What's next? Well I see my psychologist on Monday, my ortho spine specialist Monday, my psychiatrist on Tuesday, and then start ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy) on Friday I think. There are a whole lot of things to keep me busy during the week, so I am sure I won't have to worry about not being supported after I leave. I am very much looking forward to seeing my big boys, my kitties, and my Renly. I haven't seen much of this lot, so I am desperate for some time with them. Who knows, we might even get to play some Exploding Kittens.

If things don't go to plan, as they sometimes don't, I am able to come back for more intensive therapy. Apparently going home can be a massive anxiety trigger. We live in a pretty controlled environment here. There isn't an abundance of stimulation to make your senses explode. It is all pretty calm. Home, on the other hand, can be complete chaos. Dogs chasing cats, kids not cleaning their rooms, mess, noise, etc etc etc. So not only is there the anxiety that comes from leaving hospital, but there is the anxiety that comes from being in our own daily lives again. When I see my psychiatrist on Tuesday he will assess me and see how I'm going. However readmission is only a phone call away.

The biggest question I've had to ask myself is, where do I go from here? Well I have my ACT group and Psych appts. I want to get to the stage where I have Ezra back home with me out of day care for one day a week so we can go swimming and have fun together. Furthering my education is a big thing for me to pursue, especially considering how many times I've started and failed study due to my self esteem convincing me that I'm totally shithouse. So I am going to work on that in baby steps, starting with an on campus Cert III in something or other. Might as well get an edumacation, right?

Time for me to embrace these medications and go to sleep. I need to put my worries away for another day and see what tomorrow brings.

Lots of love to you all

This is what depression and anxiety looks like

My day started off relatively well. I'm doing Optifast this week (planning to continue and will post about this some other time) and I start to the food plan. There was a session on called "Managing Your Emotions" which seemed like a really appropriate session for me. We all got seated, I borrowed a pen because I didn't think to take one, and then I got called to my appointment with my psychiatrist. So bang went that crystal set. However the session with my psychiatrist went relatively well and I left feeling pretty good about taking on the day.

At 3pm there was a relaxation session that I wanted to go to for the second time. It is located in this weird little section where you enter on the ground floor, yet somehow you have to go down the lift to get to the other ground floor. I had arrived early because I wanted to make sure I was there on time. Seeing the little kitchen nearby prompted me to go make myself a cup of tea (Madura tea bag, a splash of zymil milk and an Equal to sweeten it). "Wouldn't it be a nice idea to go and have this cup of tea in the sun?" I asked myself. Back to the lift I went and pressed the button to go to the other ground level. However I ended up in the Basement. Fuck knows how that happened. But I could see trees and figured it was as good an exit point as any. Down the drive there was a shady path surrounded in fresh air. Just what I needed! When I had a few minutes before the relaxation class was due to start, I made my way back to the lift. I pressed the button. Nothing happened. I pressed it again. Still nothing. Then I noticed a swipe card thingo there. I could only get in if I had access. So I had to try to find my way back by walking the long way around. Unfortunately I didn't have a lot of success.

Before long I found my brain going down the rabbit hole. It started with "Urgh you're an idiot. You can't even make it to class properly". Followed with "There goes my three sessions a day target. Looks like I've failed again". Then we spiraled in to thinking about all of the times I haven't succeeded or completed something, That I'm useless. That I'm a bad example to my children. That they'd be better off without me. That I should just walk down the hill to Creek Rd (a busy street in Brisbane) and walk in to the middle of the traffic. I transformed into a crying, heaving, puffy eyed mess. Nobody ever said that depression isn't pretty, but not many people show exactly how that looks. I want to change that. Here is me and here is an explanation of how I feel.

My eyes hurt. They feel scratchy, puffy, tight and dry. Crying has a really horrid affect on my eyes. They become these little slits that make it hard to see much in my peripheral. Which isn't really a bad thing since I'm feeling pretty self-centered at the time. Being a glasses wearer increases the level of discomfort. I can't wear my glasses when I'm crying, but I also can't see for shit and therefore my self-loathing only increases. "I'm so useless. I can't even wipe my tears or stop myself from bumping in to things, or find where I've flung my glasses when I needed to find a tissue."

Snot is a part of life. It is there to make us look awkward when someone points out that we have bats in the cave. It runs out of our nose like a tap when we have hay fever and the season changes. It goes green when we have some kind of funky infection. It also clogs up my face as soon as I cry for more than 2 minutes. Before long I'm in a position where I can't breathe through my nose. Unfortunately this makes it really difficult when the nurse comes to try to assist me by telling me to "take a biiiiiiiiig deep breath in through your nose and then sloooooooowly exhale". Ummmmmm I can't even breathe in through my nose AT ALL. So how the feck am I going to do that???

One of the stupidest things that I did in my self hatred moment was clean my lipstick off. Very vigorously. With a dry face washer. All the while I was telling myself how ugly I was and that I shouldn't even bother putting lipstick on in the first place because I'm such an ugly fat beast that makeup only serves to make me look ridiculous. So I hate-cleaned my beautiful Lime Crime lipstick off. Eventually I wet the cloth because I found the dryness wasn't appropriate for actually removing shit. But now here I am, with the shiniest feeling lips in the universe. Shiny, but not in a good way. I need to get some moisture in those buggers any minute now. BRB.

Yeah, now that I think about it I should have done something for my skin while I was off looking after the moisture on my lips. In order to clear up my nose I wet another cloth and then put some drops of  Wide Awake essential oil from Plumeria which I huffed and puffed until I could blow air out of my nose. Now my face feels drier than a you know what. So I think it's time for a shower and a moisturise.

This is the physical side of depression. Well, part of it. Sometimes it is easier. Sometimes it can be much much worse. But this is a pretty good insight.

Love and good wishes to you all, and thanks for the positive feedback so far xx

Nightmares Are Balls

OK seriously. Why on earth does our brain give us nightmares? How is there possibly any reasonable explanation for why we wake up in tears, having relived a trauma from our past. Especially after yesterday was rough enough as it is, thanks to a potential bad reaction to my new meds. Although the awesome group sessions I attended and shopping trip with Husbfriend made it totally worth it.

Just a few minutes ago I woke to find my heart racing and my eyes watering. I can recall dreaming about some past trauma, my subconscious playing on my insecurities. I'm not good enough, I'm an easy target, I'm overreactive, it's funny to see me get upset. So now my brain is racing and I can't sleep. Should I go and get something to make me sleep and miss out on my morning gym session? Or do I hold out and save my PRN (anti anxiety meds) for later in the day since I always run short? Decisions, decisions.

Speaking of medication, as I've mentioned previously I have started a new med called Pristiq. I woke fine yesterday morning, however when Husbfriend arrived and took me shopping I found myself very overstimulated by the lights, sounds and movement there. My vision was a bit sparkly (as in things looked like they were sprinkled with glitter), and I felt very agitated. My speech was quite scattered and I found it really hard to focus, jumping from conversation to conversation without finishing the last. Definitely wasn't the best I've ever felt. Not even close.

On the topic of shopping, I did manage to pick up some amazing​ things, courtesy of a tax adjustment working out in my favour.  I got myself a swag of stuff at Daiso, which is an amazing Japanese store filled with items that are only $2.80 unless otherwise marked. I filled my basket with an assortment of goodies, freaking out that I would have spent close to $100+ dollars. Worked out I only spent $40. THIS PLACE IS AMAZING! I also went and got my other nostril pierced to match the other side. Believe I or not I got it to help with a compulsion I have. Hopefully it works!

Groups are part of our every day life here. As a general rule you should attend 3 sessions a day. Today I only managed two as I had also gone for a walk around the grounds for 30 mins as exercise.. One of them was a relaxation session (which helped my wired brain) and the other was a creative writing session. I loved it! Got my mind to head off in a more creative and mindful direction. Well not entirely long term. But it did help for the short term.

I should probably attempt this sleep thing. I feel wiped out after succumbing to PRN. I wish you all a wonderful day ❤️

I'm Certified!

Just a quick one to say that yesterday I completed my Cognitive Behavioural Therapy course. This is the first course I have completed since Year 10. I have started many, including my Year 12 study, Uni degrees, Tafe courses, etc
 None of them have been completed. And now here I am, the proud owner of a certificate that I received in my mental hospital hahahaha.

While I may make a little fun of​ it I have to admit that I am so damn proud of myself. I could have stopped going. Others did. Even on the evening before I only had 4 hours sleep and I was tempted to skip it. So damn glad I didn't.

Pic of certificate to come.

I'm in Crazytown for another week.

It has been a big couple of days. Some good, some not so good. I've made revelations, changed medications, purchased things, and lost stuff, (which was found by other people). But hilarity ensued so that makes up for it.

CBT has been great. We have discussed saying "No", made a plan around relapsing, discussed self esteem, and identified our strengths. I would definitely say that the self-esteem and strengths lessons were the most confronting. I'm not great at identifying my strengths. Feel free to indulge me by commenting with ideas I could use for what my strengths are. CBT comes to an end tomorrow however I can do a continuation or another day course when I become an outpatient. Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) is definitely on my to-do list.

Changing medication as an inpatient is so much less brutal than doing it at home on your own. Having access to medication I can take when I feel unwell (aka PRN), such as valium and neulactil, has made the ride a lot less bumpier than it has before. PRNs are my new squad. Sorry other friends!

I have been a little retail crazy. I mean Carindale is right across the road, for craps sake. I wanted to make it feel more homely. Trent was hanging with me and he got me a comforter set, which will end up on Ezra's bed, some amazing shoes!!!!, a colouring in book since I left my others at home, and a puzzle. My husbfriend also picked a Squirtle plushy for me to remind me of Ezra. His nickname has been Squirtle for as long as his name has been Ezra.

Last night I had quite a bit of medication for sleep and anxiety. It is fair to say that I was pleasantly off my face. I decided I needed a snack, and the vending machine was in one of the other wings. I walked that hallway about 5 times trying to find the gosh darn thing. How can a vending machine just disappear!?! A nurse came along and informed me that I needed to go through a door to get to it. Oooops. However it was a rookie mistake, right? Since I was on the phone to Trent I thought I'd walk towards the entrance so I wouldn't wake the others. We had a nice chat that ended with "I need to go. I'm falling asleep". Fast forward to this morning at 6am when a burly security guard comes to tell me my wallet was found near the entrance and they needed to check that I didn't escape the hospital. Jinkies!

I should wrap it up and have a shower. Bye, Lovers xxxx

Medication Change Fun

I've been in the process of changing my antidepressant medication. I've been taking Prozac, however in the past I have had Lexapro, Cipramil, Cymbalta, Zoloft, and Effexor. Today I started Pristiq after a few days of weaning off the Prozac. Fingers crossed I have a better result with this one. Apparently it is a new medication (only about 5 years old) so there is a good chance they have learnt from previous mistakes when it comes to making meds.

Anyway, today I had my first dose. I also had my usual pain medications (Lyrica and Targin), with a side of endone and valium. Breakfast was almost like some kind of chemical degustation. I had slept through breakfast so I had no actual food in my tummy. Well provided you don't count the single serve box of Coco Pops that I ate while watching Iron Fist on Netflix last night.

This morning I had my CBT session which started out great. As the minutes ticked by I found that the coffee wasn't doing its job. Slowly but surely my eyes began dripping and I found it hard to keep them open. My facilitator agreed that I should come back to bed. Which is where I am now, typing all of this with my left eye closed. I think now is the time for me to close the other. But not without sharing a pic of how exhausted I look because I think it is kinda funny.

Love and stuff to you all xxx