When I wake up in the morning, I feel so sick with dread that I have to take anti-emetics immediately. I then feel stuck to the loo, and I sit there wondering how the hell I’m going to get to work. After about five or ten minutes, I order myself to get into the shower, and then I order myself through the rest of the getting-ready-for-work routine. If I find myself worrying about the journey in, it means I’m not concentrating hard enough on getting ready, so it’s back to it. It’s a difficult hour, but eventually I get in the car, and not too long after, I’m safe at my desk.
The working day is secretly spent measuring my fluid intake, and calculating an optimal toilet-visit schedule in anticipation of the journey home. I don’t feel hungry, because anxiety has stolen my appetite, but my stomach still rumbles, and I order myself to eat, walk, keep my body ticking over. It’s hard to juggle all of this with actual work I need to do, but the time does pass, and I eventually make it home.
Evenings are free – time spent feeling relieved that my time out of the house is over, and I’m safe for another twelve hours. I can watch TV, play games, drink plenty, and eat properly. Mirtazapine knocks me out pretty effectively at bed time, and then we start again.
What do you do when every day is difficult like this? You celebrate the little things, and take it one day at a time. Yes! I completed another day! Hey, I lasted through that meeting – well done MQ! It sounds phoney, but if you do it relentlessly enough you can absorb some of it – I’ve been in a reasonable mood all day, despite feeling yesterday like I was falling to pieces. That in itself is a bit of a victory.
I’d forgotten how this feels. I guess I was doing much better than I thought. This low mood feels almost unbearable, to the point that I’m completely restless and agitated, but there’s a quiet voice in the back of my head saying ‘it’s no big deal. You used to feel like this everyday.’
Misery. Anger at the misery – how is this fair? What did I do?! The uncomfortable feeling that you’re dealing with the equivalent of a car accident, and yet for the rest of the world it’s business as usual. That said, I don’t want people to know. Far from it. But I’d like the sky to change colour. Or for all the cars in the world to suddenly stop. That would do it.
Days become trials. Time passes too slowly, and I stare at spreadsheets with glazed eyes, unreasonably incredulous that I have to do work. I’m falling apart in here!
Guess who’s back.
I’m back because I’m not okay. My journey isn’t over – if I ever thought that, it was wishful thinking.
Last night I dreamt that I committed suicide. I dodged various people around me on a beach, ran into the sea, and swam away, fast enough and far enough that I wouldn’t have the energy to make it back.
I don’t think that’s normal.
What’s changed? Physically, nothing. Medically, nothing. I haven’t done anything *stupid*, but I notice I’m thinking about it more. My mood is volatile – it takes only the smallest of negative triggers for me to feel like throwing something.
I’m not a physical kind of person. To anyone else, I look fine. Sitting at my desk, doing my job, same old same old. Inside, it’s like I’m fizzing. I can’t really talk to anyone about it – if I try, I can’t find the words, and then I’m so overwhelmed that I stop trying out of frustration.
I guess that’s why I’m back. This blog always helped me find the words.
This is a snapshot of the mood chart my psychiatrist has me fill out on a daily basis, covering the last year. And look…my depression scores are the lowest they’ve been in an incredibly long time.
I don’t really know what to say, except that I am so, so pleased. It makes me think – healthy times have crept in without it being a statement. I didn’t really notice until I saw the chart. And I won’t put any pressure on it. I can’t force this good state of mind to be constant, and if I try I’ll probably kill it, so I’m just going to see what happens.
I submitted my dissertation this afternoon. 10,000 words, 42 pages, nicely bound…job done, only a few months after I should have done it! Still, I beat my the deadline granted by my medical-circumstances extension, and that means I have an extra week for exam revision. Whooooooo.
Submitting today = reward = off to the coast tomorrow!!
Happy Thursday folks
I’m delighted to announced that I think I’ve broken a record – for the first time in about two years, I’ve actually had five days straight without feeling particularly ‘down’. No miserable moods, no self-harming, no emotions I couldn’t handle.
Now I’m aware that usually when I make a positive post on this blog, I’ll crash soon afterwards and the next one will be depressive and angry…here’s hoping for an end to that pattern!
It hasn’t been the easiest five days, and that makes me all the more proud that I’ve made this achievement; over the last couple of days I’ve felt hints of a downward slope mood-wise, and somehow I’ve managed to stop them in their tracks. It’s strange to sit at a desk, feel that first tug of frustration or sadness, see the day descending into me abandoning work and killing hours until it’s time to sleep…and then remind myself that that won’t get me anywhere, and actually act on that.
A little voice in my brain is whispering the word ‘recovery’, but that’s too exciting/a potential set-up to crash for me to address right now.
Whatever this is, and whatever it means, I’m welcoming it with open arms.
I got an extension on my dissertation, no problem. I didn’t have to argue my corner at all; even though this wasn’t my regular GP, she knew me well enough that she immediately started writing a medical letter to the university giving me an extra two weeks.
So that’s great, but now I’m feeling guilty because I haven’t done any work today, and I didn’t do any yesterday. This extension is not an excuse to take longer than I would otherwise on this dissertation. And I’m not using it as one, at least not deliberately anyway, but I am a bit disappointed with myself. I think I was hoping it would motivate me to really get a move on.
The burn on my hand blistered over in a couple of places and burst today, which has been pretty painful. A couple of raw patches of skin have me worried about infections, so I went out and bought some fancy-looking blister plasters and antiseptic wipes etc. I hope they work; the back of my hand is a bad place to have a serious scar (well, comparatively at least).
Mood wise…I’d still describe myself as detached, although not quite on the same peaceful level as yesterday. There’s work-related anxiety trying to poke its way back in, but it isn’t too strong. If I can get through tomorrow I’m hopeful I’ll be okay until Wednesday, as my brother is joining me in this house I’m looking after for a few days. Beyond that we’ll see, but I’m not going to worry yet.