We Will Remember Them

According to Wikipedia, Anzac Day is a national day of remembrance in Australia and New Zealand that broadly commemorates all Australians and New Zealanders "who served and died in all wars, conflicts, and peacekeeping operations" and "the contribution and suffering of all those who have served". While I was a kid I was acutely aware of ANZAC Day, thanks to having a Grandfather who was the President of our local RSL. We used to call him the Grand Poobah.

My grandfather was the absolute best man I have ever met. For as long as I can remember he was funny and caring, always treating us kids differently, but with no less love for one than the other. He acknowledged our differences and worked with those in the way he played with us. He could be stern, don't get me wrong. If you were too noisy during the News or while he watched is NRL, but the rest of the time he would join in on the fun with us, all while treating both his wife and my mother with the utmost respect. In fact I always swore that one day I would grow up and meet a man like my grandfather and that would be when I knew I'd found the one.

Each year my grandfather would lead the ANZAC Day and Remembrance Day services at our local primary school. He would speak about the War and what it meant. He would speak of the sacrifices the men and women of our country made so that we could live our life with the freedom we have today. I stood tall, spoke clearly, but even as a kid I could hear the undertone of sadness in his voice. This man had lived some shitty experiences to have these kinds of tales. Yet here he stands, speaking to the children in our local area, telling them about the story of the ANZACs and a child-friendly version of what they had to endure.

It wasn't until I got older that I heard the full story of what he had to go through. I haven't asked for permission to tell that side of his story today, however I can say that he suffered immensely as a result. He was given a DVA pension for the PTSD he suffered as a result of what he had to do and see. It was a battle, mind you. He was rejected many times over and had to reapply in ways that ticked all of the right boxes for the Government official to put their APPROVED stamp on it. Seriously, could they not just sit down with these men and women, have a conversation with them, have them meet with a psychiatrist and then just approve it from there? Do we need to reject claims based on administrative errors?

My grandfather lived to the ripe old age of 80. He had a fantastic 80th birthday, surrounded by friends and family. He had been sick for quite some time so we were acutely aware that this could be his last. And we were right. A few short months later he died. He was on life support for a few days, but that was mostly so that his wife and daughters would have the chance to say goodbye.

I miss this man terribly. The memory of him slips in to my mind at the most random of times. None moreso then ANZAC Day and Remembrance Day. So while I do respect the service of the tens of thousands of other men and women who have enlisted in our military, today I mostly think of my grandfather, and how grateful I am that he made it home.

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.

Back Home And Straight In To A Party

I'm tired. I don't mean that I need to sleep I just mean that I'm tired. Everything feels so much like hard work. Eating, talking, moving, breathing. And then we had my baby's birthday to celebrate. How on earth amI supposed to find the energy for this?

Birthday celebrations for Ezzy were fun. We blew up far too many balloons, ate an amazing cake, and chilled out. Although I only ever felt half there. I couldn't be  fully present. Part of my brain was always somewhere else. I believed In was such shit parent for not being 100% there on his special day.

It's hard to remember that it isn't me that's a shit. It's my illness. My mental illness is what takes my mind to places that aren't helpful. However I wonder if my medication is working or not. Should it be doing its thing by now? If it was gonna work should I be feeling better than this? I have already taken almost every antidepressant on the market. I'm not sure that there is anything more that I can take. Maybe this is going to be how it is always going to be.

And if it is, well I don't know that I can do it.