Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘depression’ Category

DID Is Horrid

Posted in children, depression, DID, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, insight, Sadness, Spiderman, Triggers, tagged , , on August 18, 2012 | 18 Comments »

I stopped watching TV ages ago; I think it was as far back as 2010, I can never be sure. I stopped watching it as it did something to me, I wasn’t sure what and I couldn’t define it but I knew that TV made me mental. I covered it up for ages by saying the noise bothered me; this sounded “normally abnormal” and fitted with the experiences of other mentalists. Those involved in my ‘care’ at the time accepted this and understood.

When I was confident that my suspicions I had DID were correct and I decided to share my findings with my ‘care team’ one of the things I mentioned was television- I revealed to them that I had stopped watching television as it made me switch, TV was very triggering. Those involved in my ‘care’ at the time didn’t accept this and didn’t understand.

I used to love TV, all sorts of TV and I loved films, all sorts of films. In the time I have avoided the TV I have occasionally watched a film but anything I watched had to be something I’d seen before, was familiar with and therefore could identify any potential triggers. I had to have enough knowledge of a film to ensure I was watching it with the correct eyes- or at least not the wrong eyes.

For the past two years or so I have repeatedly watched Mulan, Heathers, The Breakfast Club, In The Loop, Spiderman, Monsters Inc. and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Whilst all of these are fantastic films, it does get a bit boring and I think I sometimes miss TV, watching TV is such a normal thing to do, it’s easy, entertaining and informative. Mostly I’d like to be able to watch TV as I feel inept that the TV still fills me with fear, I feel like I’m failing in some way.

I did once watch something I had never seen before- Disney’s Up and I’m still haunted by it. I don’t know why and I daresay it’ll all come out one day but that film was a horrific ordeal and now any reference to it- be it a picture or whatever is triggering, it is to my great sadness that my previous love of balloons has been replaced by fear as they now remind me of that film. I was retraumatised by Disney/Pixar, which sounds amusing and indeed would make a great t-shirt slogan but it was a further knock to my confidence that I’d ever obtain anything resembling stability.

Just over a week ago I decided once again to try and challenge my fear of TV and settled down to watch Curious George- a cartoon about a monkey, I love monkeys. I’m not sure what it was about and I’m not entirely sure what happened but I suspect that the episode of Curious George was not unconnected to the awful body memories and flashbacks I went on to experience a couple of days later. I don’t know what all of my triggers are, I can’t imagine I ever will but I have a vague idea of some of them. Some are obvious and probably common, some appear ridiculous (Party Ring biscuits) and some make no sense at all. One of my triggers is umbrellas; there were umbrellas in that episode of Curious George. So you see it makes perfect sense- if you’re mental.

So once again, I was avoiding the TV. TV is far too unpredictable when your summary of yourselves is “triggered by everything” it’s far too dangerous when you just don’t know what might come up and how it may affect you.

Last night I decided that it might be nice for the 7 year-old to have a movie night. I had ‘purchased’ the live-action Horrid Henry film from isohunt and we had obtained the necessary supplies from the Spar- popcorn, chocolate and crisps. I despise Horrid Henry; the animated series on TV is rubbish as are the books. I consider myself something of an expert on children’s fiction and children’s TV, the popularity of Horrid Henry confounds me to this day. I’ll spare you my critical analysis but suffice to say I find the stories of a child with some sort of oppositional defiant disorder with parents who display inconsistent parenting styles from one incident to the next, very dull indeed. I had therefore decided that the Horrid Henry movie was likely to do nothing more dangerous than bore me to death and add fuel to my hatred for Francesca Simon.

I was wrong.

I don’t really remember watching Horrid Henry- always a bad sign, but from the tweets I made during the film I can tell that several pairs of eyes watched it and it ultimately was a confusing ordeal. Not as traumatic as Up *shudders* but not something I’m keen to repeat.

I can, thanks to my virtual paper trail point to some things that made Horrid Henry quite so difficult- one being mixed cultural references, I have the same problem with Stuart Little (I have many problems with Stuart Little as I detailed here). The Horrid Henry film had outfits from times I couldn’t identify but they were anything from 1950- current day. Henry has an iPod shuffle- my poor little brain just could not compute.

Well-known faces in the film, whilst no doubt good for the box-office were also confusing for me- not least as I wonder what on earth Richard E. Grant was thinking being involved in such a pile of dross. Gavin from Gavin and Stacey was in Horrid Henry but he wasn’t Gavin. I think Jo Brand was in there too but I can’t be sure. I know Noel fielding was in the film as I tweeted about it and promptly lost my mind.

Last night I vowed never to watch a film again- ever.

I feel depressed today that something so fundamental still evades me and I feel hard done by that DID feels the need to constantly remind you of its pervasiveness and sneak into every corner of your life. I daresay that eventually, as therapy progresses I’ll gather the knowledge I need to be able to watch TV and films again, but I can’t help feeling angry that something that should be easy, even enjoyable is like planning a military operation.

As Horrid Henry would say IT’S JUST NOT FAIR!

Little shit…..

Read Full Post »

Same Difference

Posted in Anxiety, depression, DID, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Eating Disorder, emotions, insight, insomnia, Internal Communication, labels, manic, mental illness, MPD, Multiple Personality Disorder, therapy, Told you it wasn't like Stephen Fucking Fry, Triggers, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on July 18, 2012 | 22 Comments »

I don’t fit, or at least if I do, I don’t know where. This feeling is nothing new to me; I’ve never fitted, always felt different. I suppose I should be grateful that at least now I know why?

I didn’t think I had a problem with being different, in fact I’m still not sure I do after all I can’t imagine I’d enjoy being normal. Just a quick reminder to anyone even thinking of saying or even just thinking “oh but what is normal anyway?” I don’t know, but I know what it isn’t. That question rates even higher up the irritation scale than any of the wanky platitudes, don’t do it.

When I went mental, I started to feel a bit like I wasn’t different anymore; I was the same as all the other mentals. But that’s just it, I am the same

as

all

the

other

mentals….

I have a lot in common with the depressed, the manic, the obsessive compulsives, the voice hearers, the eating disordered, the self-harmers, the suicidal, the psychotic, the delusional, the gender confused, the insomniacs, the narcissists, the anxious, the attachment disordered, the selective mutes, the substance abusers, the paranoid- I could go on…..

I can identify with everyone; I’ve been there, am often there and will no doubt be there again at some point. I suppose if we’re looking at transferable skills at least I can rest easy, safe in the knowledge that I have a promising future career in writing leaflets about mental illness?

I left a comment on a blog last week; it took me some 4 days of writing and deleting to actually click ‘submit’. My comment wasn’t anything controversial or even particularly interesting or important but it was different. The topic of the blog piece was labels- what we mentals call ourselves and are called by services. I’m a firm believer in self-definition but of course, for me this means selves-definition. My comment reflected this

I cut the comment short, I define myself in numerous different ways but I was feeling incredibly self-conscious about what I’d said.

So I feel different from other people like me, other mentals

I don’t fully understand why I felt so self-conscious, I’m not ashamed of having DID, I’m happy to talk about it. You may have noticed.

I feel like I ought to say “my illness doesn’t define me” but it’s simply not true. When your illness makes you believe you are more than one “me” it does tend to dictate how you operate.

I’ve felt uncomfortable within the Madosphere for a while, I don’t read many blogs at the moment and I comment on very few. Whilst I have something in common with everyone and can offer advice, sympathy and understanding in all and any situation, I shy away from doing so. I don’t feel unwelcome, far from it but I do feel very different and quite alone. The ultimate paradox of sharing your head/body/life with [number I will never reveal] people is that it can be incredibly lonely.

I know there are several people out there with DID, I read some of their blogs; I don’t even feel like I fit there. Why? What makes me so special? What makes me think I’m different from all the other multiples out there?

On paper, nothing. Whilst all multiples are unique, there’s a sameness about us too, we share similar experiences and face similar struggles. There are a few tangible things I can point to that make me feel out of place within the online DID community.

Other DID bloggers use different terminology to me, I can’t discuss this further as it’s triggering, therefore other DID blogs can be triggering for me. So I’m like the meanie of the madosphere, I have no blogroll and generally don’t follow blogs. I have some in my reader as then I can carefully choose when to read them. I tend to avoid using terminology at all, I slip in the odd technical description but my story-telling approach to blogging often doesn’t call for it.

Other DID bloggers share names, I nearly fled Starbucks in terror last time I went and they asked for a name to put on my drink (why do they do that?!). I can’t work out if my reluctance to share names is symptomatic of the denial that we had any for so long or indicative of my overall secretiveness. I’m happy, for the most part to hide behind the collective noun, it feels safer that way.

Other DID bloggers share system information, I am like the MI5 of the multiple world when it comes to sharing information. I think it would make me feel incredibly vulnerable and unsafe to detail parts of my system.

Other DID bloggers talk about therapy; I allude to it but can never imagine retelling a session. I’m not ashamed about what happens in session, I often don’t know and am in no doubt that it’s always overtly mental but I think that therapy is for me, whoever I may be on the day and the <?> therapist.

Other DID bloggers talk about trauma. I have no trauma. I know that’s the typical multiple response but I genuinely have no memory of trauma. Sure my childhood was less than perfect and I can remember a lot of the less than perfect bits- which suggests they don’t count as trauma, but more unhelpful additions to a psyche that was already teetering. I can’t imagine if I ever uncover any trauma *clings to denial* I’d want to share it outwith therapy though.

So I feel different from other people like me, other people with DID

I’ve done the sums and if I’ve correctly identified ANPs (apparently normal parts) and EPs (emotional parts) I am 63% normal or apparently normal anyway. So the majority of the time, I’m technically, apparently normal. Twenty minutes in a room with me however and it becomes glaringly obvious that in spite of the mathematical evidence, I’m not normal. In fact, you don’t even need to be in the same room as me, anyone who’s ever received an email from me will know that bits of apparent normality do not compound into something totally normal, indeed it has the rather opposite effect. Those of you who’ve been lucky enough to receive hand-written correspondence from me (always unsigned but you can tell it’s from me as you recognise the handwritings) will appreciate that whilst there’s no doubt I can be normal and often am, all the normal together or even just a few of the normals together at the same time makes something completely abnormal.

So I feel different from other people like me, normal people

I think I feel different because I feel different and have always felt different. It’s causing me some angst it’s fair to say, especially as I think I’d be equally angst ridden to find out I was just the same as everyone else.

Read Full Post »

InequaliTy

Posted in activist, Anxiety, bipolar, depression, diagnosis, DID, Dissociation, driving, hospital, illness, insight, Internal Communication, mania, mental illness, MPD, Multiple Personality Disorder, NHS, parenting, politics, Triggers, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on June 27, 2012 | 25 Comments »

Today is bipolar awareness day, happy bipolar awareness day, may your day be filled with stability or shoe-purchasing, hilarious mania. I observed the day last year, when I was still officially the least convincing bipolar people in the world. I observed it with my usual mix of sadness, outrage, activism and piss-taking in 140 characters or fewer.

There are lots of awareness days, some kinds of mental even have a week (OCD) and some a whole month in which to be aware (Depression).

There is no DID awareness day

I’m not surprised- after all how on earth could we ever decide when to hold it? As a fellow multiple pointed out this morning we probably couldn’t even decide whether to hold it in the present or the past. Then we’d have to factor in those who remain in denial that they have DID, those who are too ashamed to admit it, those who would rather buy crayons, those who would ponder if it would be the perfect day for suicide and those who never know what day it is anyway. The chances of us agreeing on which colour the DID awareness ribbon should be are slim to none. I’ve taken to wearing these on my jackets, I assume the world thinks I’m gay, I know I’m a multiple.

We could just ‘celebrate’ all the awareness days/weeks/months for all our various comorbidities, for most multiples, every day could be an awareness day. Just think of all the cards and presents!

Joking aside, this is indicative of something far deeper, something I’ve been tentative to address, mainly as I’ve been to busy licking my (metaphorical) wounds and mourning the loss of my career.

Dissociative Identity Disorder, DID is many things but primarily it is a mental illness. I can’t decide if DID doesn’t fit the traditional ‘illness model’ or if the traditional illness model doesn’t fit DID, it doesn’t matter- the results are the same.

I am quite clearly as mad as a box of frogs; in short I believe I have several other people living inside my head/body, these other people all behave, think, act, dress and talk differently. Whilst there’s never a dull moment with DID my functioning is severely impaired, my quality of life impaired, my future affected, the lives of my children are affected, my income is affected- there is nothing DID, nothing the mental illness I suffer from doesn’t touch.

I can’t tell you the last time I saw a psychiatrist, this is not due to my usual problems with memory, this is because ‘my’ psychiatrist doesn’t want to see me. Don’t get me wrong, I can think of several people I’d much rather spend those precious 8 minutes every couple of months with (in fact, anybody) but why do I not see a psychiatrist? Am I cured? Am I no longer mental?

No and clearly- no.

I don’t see a psychiatrist because my psychiatrist doesn’t know what to do with me. There is no drug treatment for DID so I can’t be drugged into a nice, easy to manage state. Seeing the psychiatrist is such a triggering event that we invariably send our sanest part to consultations, she’s lovely but formidable and never shies away from pointing out flaws in professionalism; in fact I suspect the psychiatrist may still be recovering from the last consultation.

I have no care plan; never have; I’m not even sure what one is. Is this because I have no care needs?

No.

I have no care plan because current provision cannot meet my needs; I fit the criteria for a CPA but don’t have one. For too long I have accepted the blame for this having been told by many mental health professionals I’m “different” or “complex” and my favourite “challenging”. I don’t doubt for a second I am all those things and more- they are all symptoms of my illness.

This discrimination is nothing new to me. Sometime last year, during the perpetual crisis season I was visited by the Fantastic CPN, she was so concerned about the (frankly atrocious) state of my mental health the GP was asked to visit- the GP was equally concerned and they tried to persuade me to attend a mental health assessment- I refused. Mental health assessments are not something one can refuse as the answer to refusal is that you are clearly so mental you need get one anyway.

The psychiatrist did not bother to assess me as there was “nowhere suitable to put me” this was at the time my correct diagnosis was accepted but not allowed to be spoken of as I hadn’t had the official stamp on my notes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m relieved I escaped yet more time in the horrendous pit of shitness that is the local acute ward but that day, a Friday I was considered to be a danger to myself, a danger to my children and I was left, alone, all weekend. The children were removed from my care and placed with their father; I’ve yet to get one of them back.

I struggle to label myself as a “trauma survivor” that’s kind of symptomatic of DID, particularly at this early stage in treatment. I’ve done the ‘backwards calculations’ though and as painful and difficult it is for me, I know I didn’t end up where I am today because I was a slightly miserable kid. In fact I like to think I was a veritable ray of sunshine who left a trail of happiness and rainbows in her wake.

I am a trauma survivor.

I suffer from all the same problems as other trauma survivors do- multiplied. From the little things to the big things- multiplied. I have PTSD- multiplied.

I haven’t survived the trauma of combat, just my life. There are a number of national PTSD organisations and charities in existence to help those traumatised by war and I salute their efforts. Had I survived war then I would be able to approach one of those organisations for support, guidance and maybe even some financial assistance. The first and best advice I got when I began treatment for DID was to get rid of anything in the house that was triggering, to make the home environment safe. How I wish I’d been told this before I became too ill to accept the new 5 year contract I was offered in May 2011. The back garden of the smallest house in the world terrifies me, I can’t go out there- all it needs is a 6 foot fence around the perimeter to make it ‘safe’, I can’t afford a fence, I miss the garden.

I recently replaced some cushion covers as the existing ones were triggering, I am now able to spend 6 minutes in my own living room before I scuttle back to the safety of the bedroom, 6 minutes is crap but it’s an improvement on my previous record of 4.

Then there’s  the stupid car, I had hoped “being too terrified to go over your own front door” would be enough to qualify for the higher rate of the mobility component of DLA so I could make use of the Motability scheme but alas as I have two legs this is not the case. The fact those legs often don’t move (freezing is a very common trauma response) or those legs are often very painful (somatic memory) is insignificant to the DWP. I need the stupid car to retain that tiny bit of independence I have, the stupid car, for all its failings is safe.

I am working hard in therapy and have made huge progress, I am a very active participant(s) in my own ‘recovery’ (a word I despise in this context but I can’t think of a suitable replacement) and with the right package of care I could be doing even better. I’m not a fool, I know my journey is going to be long and at times very difficult but it’s a journey I’m willing to travel. I know what my needs are, I am aware they don’t fit with the traditional needs of someone with a mental illness but they are needs that I have as a direct result of my illness/disability, I intend to apply for Direct Payments to meet my needs. I have no doubt I face an enormous challenge but I am determined. I have been NHS Fife’s ‘dirty little secret’ for too long, I’m not a bad person, I have a mental illness. I asked for a social worker to assess my needs on the 12th of June, I suspect they’re still drawing straws in the office, if it’s any consolation I have no desire to deal with any of them either- but needs must.

There are two survivor-lead organisations for those with DID, First Person Plural and PODS but they are small, under-funded and generally unnoticed. I hope one day to have the strength and stability to help move DID out of the shadows. Not because I think we’re special but because we trauma survivors deserve the same services and same recognition as everybody else with a chronic mental illness.

Read Full Post »

Helping The Help

Posted in #MadParisJolly2011, art, Awesome Psychiatrist, bipolar, blogging, communication, crying, depression, diagnosis, DID, Dissociation, DSM, emotions, Fab Psychologist, health, hospital, insight, Internal Communication, labels, Lovely GP, manic, medication, mental illness, MPD, Multiple Personality Disorder, NHS, psychiatrist, stickers, suicide, The Fear, therapy, Told you it wasn't like Stephen Fucking Fry, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on May 25, 2012 | 23 Comments »

Two years ago today I wrote this blog post

Ever wish you hadn’t asked?

Some time last year that post was edited and the link within changed- the link was originally to the Wikipedia entry on DID (which incidentally I think is rubbish). I know why it was changed and for the purposes of this post it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that for two years I’ve known I had DID, the nature of DID means that I didn’t always know I had it and often didn’t think I had it- but I do and I’ve known for a very long time.

This post is dedicated to all the psychiatrists, psychologists, nurses & doctors (and there have been many) that have met me and treated me in those two years; I know many of them read the blog (though strangely they never leave comments). Even if you’ve never had the privilege of being involved in my ‘care’ if your profession brings you into contact with human beings, you may learn something too so please read on.

I can’t believe you all missed it, it was hardly subtle and I did, very kindly point it out on a number of occassions. You all need to learn about dissociation and dissociative disorders, you all need to find the courage, humility and confidence to do what’s right for those in your care. If you don’t know what you’re doing- admit it and find someone else who does. Listen to your patients, accept what is true for them, however distasteful, frightening and anxiety provoking it is for you. Put your egos to one side; ignore the flawed politics of the system you represent, stop damaging people who have been damaged enough, admit you got it wrong. If your manager/colleagues/profession are unsupportive- call them out on it, stand-up for yourselves, stand-up for your patients.

It’s too late for me, the damage caused by your mistakes is huge- but there will be others and you owe it to them, to your profession and to yourselves to ensure you don’t do to them what you did to me.

Don’t make anyone else have to fight the way I had to fight to get the correct diagnosis, care and treatment- for that fight was very damaging. Don’t assume that you know more than your patients, for all your qualifications it is the person sitting opposite you who is the expert on their own mind. Listen, believe and accept, if you can’t or won’t, have the decency to find someone who can and will. I hope every one of you has learned something from me and I hope some of you will go on to learn more in order that you can do your job and do it well.

You hold peoples lives in your hands, you have great power- but always remember what Spiderman said……. or Voltaire if that’s your bag, he said it too but Spiderman says it better.

A multiple never forgets

Read Full Post »

365 Days of Noise and a Silent ‘H’

Posted in Awesome Psychiatrist, depression, emotions, Fab Psychologist, Fantastic CPN, friends, hospital, mental illness, NHS, stickers, suicide, support, tea, Told you it wasn't like Stephen Fucking Fry, Twitter, tagged , , , , , , on December 31, 2011 | 52 Comments »

2011 has been a dreadful year, a year which has seen my mental health decline rapidly, as I sit, writing this I have little hope that the 366 days coming up in 2012 will offer me any relief from the fear, confusion, pain, sadness and chaos of my current existence. I dread each one of those 366 days and nights as I have dreaded every day and night for some time. 2011 has taught me that there are places lower than ‘rock bottom’ and places far scarier than your worst fears. I have been badly hurt, betrayed and let down this year, mainly by the medical profession but other people in my life have had a go too.

I don’t know how I’ve made it this far, I don’t know if I want to make it any further and the truth is I don’t know, I just don’t know.

Being New Year (however much denial I am in about the whole hideous event), I thought it might be appropriate to do an honours list; I checked the honours list this morning (around 4am) and was disappointed not to be included- again. In fact nobody who I thought should have been included was so I am going to right that wrong, right here, on one of the best blogs on the internet.

The Professionals


I have encountered far more than my fair share of professionals this year, not just in mental health but also the police, air-ambulance team, medical staff, social workers and paramedics.

The highest honour I can bestow, the order of the ‘sparkly, rainbow-tailed unicorn‘ must go to the obvious recipient-

The Fantastic CPN

The Fantastic CPN has continued to be an enormous source of support to me, she is at the mercy of a system that inherently appears to treat people badly but she continues to do her job and do it well. The Fantastic CPN is caring, compassionate, understanding, determined, clever and funny. She has never once made it obvious that she would just like to run away and leave me in the hands of someone else, I’m sure she’s been tempted, I’m not the easiest patient. The Fantastic CPN is representative of an army of individual, conscientious mental health professionals that are out there in our communities, doing what they can with damaged and broken people caught up in a badly broken system. I wish everybody who needs one could have someone like the Fantastic CPN but of course you can’t have the Fantastic CPN as she’s mine and I’m not very good at sharing.

The next honour, the order of ‘the sparkly box of empty promises’ goes to-

The Awesome Psychiatrist

The Awesome psychiatrist receives a mention in the honours list in recognition of his wonderful job of re-traumatising me. Whilst this was a largely horrific affair for all who experienced and witnessed it, it allowed the truth about my mental health to come out. Unfortunately the Awesome Psychiatrist will be stripped of his honour immediately as he refused to believe the truth he had helped to uncover. I still enjoyed the time I spent with him and think that should you ever be the kind of mental that fits neatly into a psychiatric box then you will struggle to find a more knowledgeable, caring, skilled gentleman to meet your needs.

The order of the ‘Schrödinger’s stickers’ goes to-

The Fab Psychologist


I don’t doubt I have presented a bit of a challenge to the Fab Psychologist this year but I am grateful that for the most part she appeared to take it in her stride in spite of the obvious challenges she faces professionally and personally. I’ll be very sorry to lose her in March and even sorrier that her blind hope I will somehow be any better by March will not come to fruition. I like to think I’ve played a part in the professional development of the Fab Psychologist, I just hope it’s not that the next time she gets someone similar in the patient raffle she runs screaming from the room.

The order of the ‘sparkly, magic, disappearing hammer intended for nailing mental jelly to a wall’ goes to-

All the mental health professionals who have assessed me under the Mental Health (Care and Treatment)(Scotland) Act and the Mental Health Act this year.


Well done all of you, you all made the right decision…….

The order of the ‘ever-present fear you will see me in the Spar and recognise me’ goes to-

The Police (both forces involved)


Thanks for tracking me down all those times, I’m less grateful for the place of safety order but I appreciate I generated a lot of work for you this year. You did your job well.

The order of the ‘it must’ve been awesome; I wish I could remember it’ goes to-

The Air-Ambulance Crew


Thank you for using your skills and valuable resources to rescue me, even though I suspect I was a little reluctant to be rescued.


The order of the ‘magical teleporting to hospital machine’ goes to-

All the paramedics I have inconvenienced this year


I think some of you saved my life, I think some of you had a wasted journey, I am grateful to you all for the work you do.

The order of the ‘itchy steri-strip’ goes to-

All the A&E staff I encountered this year


I don’t actually remember being in any A&E departments but I know I was, you all did a fantastic job, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time.

So there are the professionals all honoured. To the mental health profession as a whole, I cannot resist awarding the order of the ‘just how much do people’s lives have to be destroyed before you do anything useful?’.

The next bit is hugely predictable for anyone who knows anything at all about me. It has to be done.

I cannot put into words the honour I would choose to bestow on the following people; your importance in my life is priceless. There are not enough rainbows and unicorns and there isn’t enough glitter in the whole world to illustrate just how much you mean to me.

All my Twitter Followers


Since the giant follower cull I have been fortunate to gather a rather small group of very important people to help me through my days. Thanks for all the hand-holding, advice, soothing, virtual cups of tea, news, virtual toast, politics, company, presents (real and virtual), letters, mental mentoring, weather reports, cards, music, care, reports from the future, understanding, acceptance and love. Thanks especially for all the laughs as we do like to laugh.

I don’t doubt for a second that it is down to you that I have made it this far.

There are less than 12 hours of this year left, I’m glad and I know many of you are too. I also know that many of you share my dread of the upcoming year.

There isn’t really anything left to say, I was going to say “I hope we can all make it through safely and that things improve for us all in 2012” but in all honesty I am out of hope and have been for some time.

We’ll just take the time-honoured approach of crossing our fingers and tweeting voraciously, see you all there.

Read Full Post »

To-Do List

Posted in 6 year old, autism, Awesome Psychiatrist, bipolar, blogging, children, communication, crying, depression, emotions, Fab Psychologist, Fantastic CPN, hospital, illness, insight, lithium, Lovely Dietitian, mania, manic, medication, mental illness, money, mother, parenting, recovery, social worker, stress, suicide, support, Wonderful GP, work, tagged , , , , , , , , on September 16, 2011 | 14 Comments »

I think this may be one of those posts on depression I talked about, I’m not sure, I’ll just write and see what happens.

It’s been a funny day- as in not at all amusing in any way shape or form and in fact nothing funny has happened so I’m not sure I can qualify that summing-up. It just feels funny. I’m sure there are many pathological explanations for this- a shift in mood state, the inevitable come-down after a period of elevation, the fact I stopped taking the dreaded lithium on Sunday night? It’s not my area of expertise so I’ll stop speculating.

I’ve had a hard week, again, nothing particularly difficult has happened (especially when you contrast this week with the past 3) and I haven’t actually done anything or been anywhere.

Monday- a social worker from the local children and families team came to carry out an assessment in light of the 3 “child at risk concerns” from the police following my behaviour over recent weeks and contact from the ninja CPN. The assessment was a gruelling affair and ultimately felt like a lynching. I had it all under control for around 45 minutes until the ninja CPN arrived (45 minutes late) and in my words “painted me as a total loony” in her words “told the truth”. Either way the assessment went on too long and I lost it towards the end, partly due to nicotine withdrawal, partly due to being talked about as though I wasn’t in the room and partly due to the social workers insistence on informing me that there may have to be a child protection investigation.

The social worker herself was patronising and clearly had little understanding of mental health. I know I’m not the best mother in the world and I know I don’t always try my hardest but to have to sit and listen to a complete stranger tell me just how badly I was failing was very difficult indeed.

Of course maybe she never implied that at all? I have noticed this week that every interaction I have had with the ninja CPN where I mention something someone else has said, she insists on me recounting it verbatim so that she can point out where I am misinterpreting things, employing magical thinking or just fabricating things. I can’t even trust my own thoughts and impressions any more. I feel stupid, childish and powerless.

I am not surprised or ashamed that my family has come to the attention of social services; I’d be more surprised if we hadn’t. My argument against their involvement is simply that they have nothing appropriate to offer. I was also more than a little annoyed that suddenly they were intruding on our lives when in all the time the 17 year old lived here and his autism wreaked heartbreak and havoc on us all they never offered a service, in spite of being asked. What my family needs in order to function properly is for me to be well- thinly veiled threats about child protection measures aren’t going to help me achieve this. The social worker wants to come back- well at least I think she does, I received a letter addressed to me and the 6 year old, making an appointment to visit the 6 year old and someone else who doesn’t even exist. Clearly just an admin error and my rage over it is no doubt my own fault for being difficult and misinterpreting things but it pissed me off anyway.

I assume the appointment is to see the 6 year old and the 14 year old again. The 14 year old is largely unimpressed with the social worker, her opening gambit of “I know it’s not easy being different, well some people like to be different- like Lady Gaga” sealed her fate with the 14 year old. The 14 year old is a wonderful creature, intelligent, engaging and probably the funniest person I know. She may be a little “old for her years” at times but she can spot a patronising bastard a mile away. I don’t disagree that the 14 year old would benefit from some emotional support, after all if I had cancer others would be falling over themselves to ensure she was ok, I’m just not sure that social services are equipped to offer her the kind of support she needs.

So the intervention of social services has me hell-bent on proving that their services are no longer required, maybe that’s the way it works?

Tuesday- the Fab Therapist visited me at home, she was impressed by my apparent fineness given the horror stories she had been told by other “team members” since our last interaction some 6 weeks ago. I don’t think we talked about much, I’m not really sure but we can’t have done as I don’t recall having a meltdown after she left. It was kind of her to circumnavigate my avoidance by visiting me at home and I expect our next appointment in 4 weeks will only have me moderately filled with dread and fear as opposed to having dread and fear seep out of every pore like usual.

This brings me to the realisation I’ve been generating this week- mental health professionals cannot make me better. I have a great “team” (that makes me want to vomit) an Awesome Psychiatrist, Fab Therapist, Wonderful GP, Lovely Dietitian, Fantastic ninja CPN and even an ok-ish community based psychiatrist (promoted from “dickhead” after he didn’t put up a fight against my discharge from the local bin last Thursday). They are all very knowledgeable, compassionate people that work very hard but there are no magic wands.

At the end of every appointment, at the end of every day, I am alone with the mental.

Part of my problem is I don’t know where I am or what I should be doing. Am I ill? Am I recovering? Am I all better now? Should I be taking it easy? Should I be trying harder? I simply don’t know. The last few weeks have been a kind of perpetual crisis and I knew what I had to do then, I had to fight, fight against the horror that is admission to the psych ward, fight against the intrinsic death that is psychotropic medication. I won both of those fights- my prize?

I’m still mental.

This evening I find myself back to struggling to find the will to live. I am aware I have very few coping strategies for times of “distress” (that also makes me want to vomit) so I’ve had a quick look on some websites to find out how other people do it. I’m still none the wiser. Yes sure I can sit here, in my corner and name all the colours I can see but that won’t help sort out the mess that is tax credits, it won’t help me be able to put up with the simultaneous noise from the TV, the DS and the 6 year old when he is here, it won’t help me be able to sit and enjoy a film and some mother-daughter bonding time with the 14 year old, it won’t get the school uniforms washed, dried and ironed in time for school on Monday, it won’t help me get back to work, it won’t pay the mortgage, it won’t cut the grass or fix the bathroom…..I could go on. When your life is a catastrophe, it’s very easy to catastrophise.

Wednesday- I have no idea what, if anything happened on Wednesday- oh yes, I wrote my last blog post and sure enough as I said in reply to one comment I am still as lost and clueless as I was when I wrote it.

Thursday- again, nothing happened that I can recall but in truth it’s therefore not impossible that there was a zombie apocalypse or a plague of sharks or something, my recall of events is sketchy at best.

Friday- AKA today. Well I think I’ve outlined above where I am today, I’m not sure even if I read it back I will have any idea. I think I’m back at the “must get a grip” stage, I have a to-do list for tomorrow- it has one item on it-

Get washed and dressed

 

In all honesty that will be a major achievement, wish me luck.

Read Full Post »

Premeditated Murder- Part One

Posted in Anxiety, Awesome Psychiatrist, birthday, blogging, depression, diagnosis, duloxetine, Eating Disorder, emotions, illness, labels, lithium, mania, manic, medication, mental illness, psychiatrist, stability, suicide, tea, The Fear, Twitter, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 4, 2011 | 31 Comments »

As I mentioned in my previous post I am considering taking lithium again. This was not my idea, in fact it comes way down on my list of ideas somewhere after “stick pins in my eyes”, “swim in a crocodile infested pond”, “go to a Miranda Hart gig” “listen to Demi Lovato”, “eat offal”, “take up card making as a hobby”….you get the picture.

Lithium is the idea of my Awesome Psychiatrist, a gentleman I was very lucky to be referred to and even luckier that he found me “interesting” enough for him to continue reviewing my diagnosis (diagnoses?) and treatment. It is not surprising that in light of recent events he thinks it might be time to try and introduce some sort of chemical stability into my chaotic life.

I trust the Awesome Psychiatrists completely, I did instantly, I have no idea why, I usually make mental health professionals work very hard indeed to earn my trust. The Awesome Psychiatrist is very skilled and very experienced he is a “designated national specialist” according to one website, I’m not actually sure what this means but he’s a nice guy, very funny, gives me tea during appointments and laughs at my jokes, all good qualities as far as I’m concerned.

In spite of this I am still in a quandary over taking lithium again, for reasons I will explain, some perfectly rational, some possibly less rational but no less pertinent for me.

I have taken many psychotropic medications in the past, so many I’m not sure if I can remember them all but I will try- bearing in mind I only came to the attention of the psychiatric profession (this time around) in January 2010 this is quite a list-

Fluoxetine

Venlafaxine

Olanzapine

Quetiapine

Aripiprazole

Carbamazepine

Lithium

Agomelatine

Sodium Valproate

Duloxetine

Various benzodiazepines

Various hypnotics

I took propranolol in an attempt to counter the tremor lithium gave me- it made me almost blind

I was also once prescribed Risperidone for about 20 minutes but never took it

These drugs were in various dosages, in various combinations at various times, I stopped taking anything on the 19th of January 2011. I started taking Agomelatine on the 16th of  March and stopped taking it some 8 weeks ago for reasons that will probably soon become clear. I could write a blog post on each one and the reasons I hated it but this post is about lithium.

So I’ll start with the rational reasons I don’t want to take lithium again.

Lithium has many nasty physical side-effects; in my experience it causes agonising leg cramps, nausea, dizziness, constant fatigue, headaches, disabling whole body tremor, constant thirst, an insatiable hunger and accompanying rapid, uncontrollable weight gain. I don’t cope well with physical ailments, I tend to ignore most physical symptoms, preferring to ignore the fact I actually have a body at all. Feeling ill all the time forces me to acknowledge I have a body that is more than just somewhere to apply pyjamas. It makes me very uncomfortable. When I look back at diaries or blog posts I am reminded of just how dreadful I felt whilst taking medication. I accept I was over medicated, poorly medicated and poorly monitored but I have no confidence this won’t happen again. I would be mad to volunteer to make myself physically ill again.

Drug-induced weight-gain is tortuous, for anybody, for someone who likes to be in control of food as much as I do it’s even worse. I have managed to crawl to quite a sound footing in terms of eating disorder recovery, most days I eat three proper meals a day, snacks in between and have managed to make it through a whole month without any self-induced vomiting. No mean feat for someone who appeared hell-bent on starving herself to death a short time ago. I remember the incredible lithium hunger so well, I would be drop-down-dead starving almost all day, it never went away. I can’t help but think introducing a drug that messes with my metabolism would be self-sabotage at this stage.

Lithium is a mood-stabiliser, yes it helps prevent extremes of mood but it also has a tendency to cancel out all the ones in between as well. I functioned on lithium but I was without thoughts, ideas, feelings or reactions. I was empty; I am in danger of straying into the less rational reasons for not taking lithium so I will direct you to this post written by a much loved friend on the subject, she explains it better than I ever could.

So those are my experience-based, rational, understandable reasons for being reluctant to take lithium again. If I have the words and the courage I will try and explain the other reasons. I would appreciate anyone reading to let me know that they nodded and said “uh-huh” throughout this next bit as opposed to laughing aloud or further questioning my sanity, I have awareness that my beliefs are a little skew-whiff but this does not stop me believing them.

I often joke about being “poisoned by the medical profession” in fact during my first consultation with the Awesome Psychiatrist I made him promise not to poison me, I make it sound funny- I am deadly serious. I believe the medical profession want to poison me and make me something/somebody I am not. This belief  has some basis in fact, after my diagnosis there was a tendency to attach pathological labels to all my past behaviour. All the things I did, all the things I achieved were painted with bipolar, taken away from me, turned in to symptoms as opposed to qualities.  I believe that the psychiatric profession do not like me being who I am (or perhaps rather who I can be when not hooped-up on mentalism?) I am tempted to self-censor here as I know that what I’m about to say merely supports my diagnosis but I will go ahead. The psychiatric profession want me to be the same as everyone else, they want me to conform, be normal, be boring. I haven’t quite made up my mind if “they” (ie- everyone else other than me in the whole world) feel envious, threatened or just don’t like me, either way I know they want to drug the Zoë out of me.

The way I feel about this is paradoxical to my general feelings of self-loathing and I can’t really explain that other than perhaps by referring to that shameful symptom of bipolar- grandiosity. It is my understanding that grandiosity is a symptom of a manic state though and high or low I feel exactly the same way about lithium and exactly the same way about what “they” want to do to me. Even when I am crushingly low I would rather be dead than take lithium.

Simply thinking about taking lithium again makes me panic, it gives me the fear I shake and sweat, my heart races and I start scurrying around inside my own head. I have got as far as allowing the Awesome Psychiatrist to start the process, I am still in control, at this stage I have no intention of taking it.

I believe that in voluntarily taking those tablets I would essentially be killing a part of me. This sounds like a standard case of “missing the highs” and maybe it is, it feels much scarier and final than that though.

Lithium mutes the Zoë in me, it leaves behind a fat, trembling body inhabited by functioning parts, things get done but we don’t “do stuff” (“stuff” being a handy catch-all word to describe the stuff  Zoë does). Having re-read that (very long) sentence I am aware I am possibly making little sense, except perhaps to myself. It’s 3am I should probably stop and have a milky drink.

I don’t know what to do about this situation, I clearly cannot continue the way I am, I am just not safe- in either mood state and I accept that I am unwell (though I am willing to argue as to just how unwell I am). However I know that if I take lithium, the author of this blog will die and I suspect she’ll take the twitter account holder with her, I will still exist in some form but I won’t be living.

Read Full Post »

I Always Hated The Pantomime

Posted in bipolar, depression, diagnosis, driving, Fab Psychologist, Fantastic CPN, friends, high, hospital, insomnia, lithium, mania, manic, mental illness, NHS, psychiatrist, social worker, suicide, therapy, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on September 2, 2011 | 12 Comments »

Again so much I could write here, I’d have no idea where to start with an account of the time since I last blogged. Those of you who know me will know there is an awful lot I could write about. To sum up, in handy list format-

The stupid car is 157 miles away

I’ve been in two different hospitals in two different countries in a week

I didn’t get sectioned (three times)

I don’t think I am very well

I could recount all the gory details but to be honest I don’t remember that much of them, there are “highlights”, again in handy list format-

 Having to get all my appointments with my entire team rearranged as I had “discharged myself” from mental health services.

 Almost puking my own skeleton up during a 20 hour Parvolex infusion (a fitting punishment for my abject stupidity).

 Meeting my newest psychiatrist and being told a hot milky drink was the cure for that chronic, severe insomnia I talked about.

other hot milky drinks are available

The Fantastic CPN becoming the “ninja CPN” after she appeared, unseen, unexpectedly, unannounced and played the pivotal role in ensuring my most recent “episode” didn’t end in disaster.

9 hours or so in A&E (157 miles away) practising my dinosaur impressions, pacing, being stalked by security and getting into completely unwinnable, protracted arguments with mental health professionals.

I have been a monstrous consumer of resources of late, again a list-

      Ambulances

      Doctors

      Nurses

      Police

      Social workers

      Psychiatrists

      CPNs (both ninja and non-ninja)

      Hospital beds

So I haven’t exactly covered myself in glory recently. If I do a little CBT reframing of the past week or so I can come up with the following list-

 I’m still alive (in all honesty undecided if this is a positive but feel obliged to say it)

I didn’t get detained under the Mental Health Act or the Mental Health (care and treatment) (Scotland) Act.

I was again reminded that a lot of people care very much about me and will go to great lengths to help me. (thank you all for everything)

 The children appear well and happy (though I am aware I am raising the next generation of mental health service users).

So what’s next? In all honesty I don’t know, there are a lot of unknowns at the moment. I could make some predictions based on my knowledge to date but for fear of any of them becoming self-fulfilling prophecies I’ll resist.

I am considering re-starting Lithium therapy, this decision deserves its own post and it will get one. I had that MRI I was agonising over in my previous post, no results yet but am now also awaiting an appointment with a neurologist, these tests are mainly to rule things out, just a case (no doubt previously unheard of) of a psychiatrist being thorough. I have an appointment with the Fab Psychologist on the 13th of September, I will agonise over that nearer the time.

So yeah, I’m still here and again if rapid-cycling was an Olympic sport, I could be a real contender for the gold.

So a short post, covering a short time where an awful lot has happened, there’s a lot missing, follow me on twitter for the minute by minute account of the pantomime that is my life.

Read Full Post »

DSM VI Mentalism Criteria

Posted in alcohol, anhedonia, Anxiety, blogging, crying, depression, DSM, DSM VI, Eating Disorder, emotions, health, insight, insomnia, medication, mental illness, recovery, sleep, suicide, tea, Twitter, work, tagged , , , , , , , on July 29, 2011 | 14 Comments »

Told you I’d chucked the blogging rule book! Here is today’s product of my mind, the inspiration for this comes mainly from the person who suggested after my last “extreme” episode that next time I “just didn’t do it” and I realised I was clearly investing far too much time and energy in this whole being mental business. The other bit of inspiration comes from those conversations with you all and the repeated question within our community- mental or normal? I thought I’d clear things up a bit.

Please do not use this extract of DSM VI as a stand-alone tool for self-diagnosis, for best results you should also consult the RMRS©.

DSM-VI Mentalism Criteria

Mentalism (termed Mentalism by the Zoë Psychiatric Association) is defined as a maladaptive pattern of living leading to clinically significant impairment or distress, as manifested by three (or more) of the following, occurring any time in the same lifetime:

1. Tolerance, as defined by either of the following:

(a) A need for markedly increased amounts of paranoia, obsessive behaviours, fear, insomnia, inappropriate laughter, social anxiety, generalised anxiety, deliberate self-harm, drinking white wine and lemonade from the same glass, emotional lability, restricting food intake, sterilising food before consumption, foregoing basic self-care, avoiding contact with real people, amnesia, becoming melty when faced with basic tasks, lack of control over household administration, self-induced vomiting, mysophobia, purchasing of large amounts of stationery, having “head music”, hearing voices, wearing protective eye-wear when conditions do not necessitate it,  responding to aforementioned voices,  fear of abandonment, fear of attachment, anhedonia, continuous wearing of pyjamas, bingeing, over-dependence on caffeine, use of “Wineclone”© or “Winesthetic”©, only having contact with others whose name begins with @, fear of telephones, fear of the postman, crying, suicidal ideation, hypnophobia, ironing sheets, filling rooms with balloons, blogging, losing all track of time and frequent contact with health professionals to achieve mentalism or the desired effect

or

(b) Markedly diminished effect with continued use of the same amount of the behaviours.

2. Withdrawal, as manifested by any of the following:

(a) Sorting paperwork, getting affairs in order, washing and dressing daily, only visiting GP with a physical ailment, ability to have “one glass of wine with dinner”, meeting friends for lunch, having visitors, using a telephone, going out, only hearing music when you’re listening to music, only hearing voices when actual people speak to you, sleeping all night, having or thinking about getting a job.

or

(b) The same (or closely related) behaviours are repeated to relieve or avoid withdrawal symptoms.

3. The behaviours are often demonstrated in larger amounts or over a longer period than intended.

4. There is a persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to cut down or control the behaviours.

5. A great deal of time is spent in activities necessary to ingrain the behaviours, use the behaviours, or recover from their effects.

6. Important social, occupational, or recreational activities are given up or reduced because of behaviours.

7. The mentalism is continued despite knowledge of having a persistent physical or psychological problem that is likely to have been caused or exacerbated by the mentalism (for example, current repeated hand-washing despite recognition of sore, dry skin or continued isolation in spite of loneliness).  DSM-VI criteria for mentalism include several specifiers, one of which outlines whether mentalism is with physiologic dependence (evidence of tolerance or withdrawal) or without physiologic dependence (no evidence of tolerance or withdrawal). In addition, remission categories are classified into four subtypes: (1) full, (2) early partial, (3) sustained, and (4) sustained partial; on the basis of whether any of the criteria for mentalism have been met and over what time frame. The remission category can also be used for patients receiving drug therapy (such as every mood-stabiliser, anti-psychotic and anti-depressant on the market with the odd dose of benzodiazepines thrown in) or for those living in a controlled, mentalist free environment.

Wineclone© copyright owned and controlled by @mnicsleepteachr

Winesthetic© copyright owned and controlled by @Zoe_Smith

 


Read Full Post »

Lunatics Lexicon

Posted in Anxiety, art, bipolar, book, crying, depression, diagnosis, emotions, friends, high, hospital, illness, insight, labels, love, Magic Invisibility Sunglasses, mania, manic, medication, mental illness, mother, parenting, Pernicious butterflies, psychiatrist, suicide, tea, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 19, 2011 | 87 Comments »

There is so much preamble I could put here, but I’m not going to. I’m so relieved that I got this project out of my head and onto paper before “that” feeling was gone, it’s taken almost 23 hours of almost solid work. So lots of colouring in, very little sleep, very sore hands, some scanning, lots of little niggling imperfections but here is is, my latest project. Please leave comments- I will reply- probably up until around Thursday or Friday when I will no doubt slide into my pit of black sludge again………

All images and in fact everything on this blog subject to copyright, don’t steal my shit.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »