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.

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.

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 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

Time for the Freakin' Weekend (I'll drink to that yeah yeah)

Weekends have a whole new meaning when you're in hospital. Therapy stops, therefore your whole routine stops. Suddenly you only have to do the things you choose to do. Which is a bit of a double-edged sword. For those who don't have friends or family to visit, or who don't feel like engaging with the outside world at all, I could imagine it would be a pretty dark couple of days. Thankfully I have the opposite. Although throw a medication change in there, and you have a bit of trouble brewing underneath.

Yesterday I had a couple of visitors. My lovely friend Jess came to pick me up and take me for a cruise around the shopping centre. We got our nails done, drank coffee and looked in clothes shops. I picked up a few of the bits and pieces that I needed, and a few that I didn't need but really wanted. Leggings (to wear as pants), thongs, makeup bag, and some body scrub to try to give my sense of smell a bit of a good time. We laughed lots, avoided committing crimes, and made it back to the hospital only almost an hour later than I said I would. Un/fortunately nobody seemed to notice/care that I wasn't back in time. I know I am a low risk patient, so perhaps that accounts for it?

Later in the afternoon I had a visit from three of my boys. My stepson wasn't feeling well so he stayed behind, however I had Aedin, Ezra and Trent here which was amazing. We went to a little wing place called Lord of the Wings. Ah mah gahd! It was so great. Wings, burgers, poutine, mozzarella sticks. How could you go wrong??? Can't wait for someone to come visit me around dinner time so we can go there again. And to top the night off, when we got back to my room I was able to take my littlest guy in for a shower with me. This is one of our routines that I have missed the most. Afterwards he lay on the bed with me and had a bottle. It was divine. A-Dawg had a great time playing with my Nintendo Switch, drinking the complimentary hot chocolate, and eating as many of the biscuits as he could hahahaha. Gosh I love that kid.

Sunday rolled around before I knew it, and thankfully my roomie woke me to let me know that today was Cooked Breakfast Day. Considering I had missed breakfast the past few mornings I decided I should definitely make a move to score myself some bacon. There are not many more motivating forces stronger than bacon, amirite? Afterwards I worked on doing my laundry and waited for my boys to visit again. This time I had the pleasure of seeing Trent, Ezra and Josh. I grabbed the box of equipment required to play table tennis and we went outside for some fresh air. Ezra had an absolute blast. Apparently people hitting a tiny little plastic ball is HILARIOUS! Ez gives it 10/10. We had a nice afternoon and it was sad having to say goodbye again.

The rest of the afternoon has been pretty ordinary. Anxiety levels have been high. The doc is weaning me off my current medication, which can account for some of it. However it wasn't until I came in here that I realised a lot of the symptoms I've been having have been anxiety. The biggest one being shortness of breath in the absence of exercise. Some moments I find that I just can't seem to catch my breath, no matter how hard I try. Thankfully my psychiatrist had written me up for some valium to take when I feel I need it. Problem is, the more I wean off this medication, the more the anxiety is kicking in. I'm not looking forward to how I will feel the next few days.

Anyway it's almost time for me to go and get my nighttime medications. I've already had my shower and spoilt my senses with some body scrub. I've rubbed some magnesium cream into my sore ankle (I'm doing a magnesium cream experiment as present, which I will talk about soon), and soon I will lay in bed with the lights off, and some Iron Fist on my laptop while I wait for sleep to hit. Sleep seems to be a lot more accommodating now that I am on some different medications. Once I go to sleep, I stay asleep.

Now enough about me, tell me about you. How was your weekend?