Friday, 31 October 2008

All Hallows Eve...

My favourite holiday.

I'm not going Trick or Treating*, but I am getting dressed up for a party tonight. I made my mask all by myself, and I'm very proud. I'm going as a leopard. So, every leopard print item of clothing I own, plus my very fit mask and a tail [from Topshop!?!].

Will attempt to post pictures [stolen from someone who owns a camera].

I'm not going to be around for a few days. I'm going to my boyfriends place 'Oop North for the weekend, but I should be coming back on Sunday or Tuesday, havn't decided yet.


*Small Brother is no longer small enough to use as a cover for my teenage trick or treating. Damn! I used him as my decoy up until last year, but as he has just started secondary school I think he would be, quite frankly, mortified to be seen with his 19 year old sister when she is dressed as a leopard.

Thursday, 30 October 2008

There's got to be some Zopiclone somewhere...

I mean, come on, I'm a walking pharmacy.I tend to hoard, and that extends to medications, and there MUST be some Zopiclone in my room. I've had barely any sleep this week, although I've hardly left my bed. It takes hours to fall asleep, and then I get less than an hour before I'm up again. Repeat several times, and you wake up more exhausted than when you started. I'm really anxious. I don't know why.

I saw my counsellor today. It's been two weeks since I last saw her, and so I should be more relaxed, less agitated. Instead I'm petrified I'm going to get carted off to MY HOSPITAL. She said I need to go somewhere to be looked after. Not necessarily an inpatient admission, maybe stay with family? Pffffttttt. My family? My mum would hit the roof if she knew I was still on the medication, my father chooses to ignore it, and the only person who really understood me decided to commit suicide. Thanks, Grandad. I NEED YOU.

Well, lets have a quick looksy at the family tree. You have lil GG, Mummy, Daddy. Mummy is rather barking, as was her father and all his siblings - BPAD or recurrent depression, and their kids are almost exclusively BPAD/PD's/addicts/depressives. Mummy hasn't [to my knowledge] been formally diagnosed, but then she believes that mental illness ISN'T REAL. So, I'm training to be a not-a-real-illness nurse. Goody.
Daddy and both his brothers have been on anti-depressants for varying lengths of time. Paternal grandmother has suffered with it for years, and now is "emotionally numb". Her words, not mine, when she called me to warn me not to end up like her.
Her father/step-father [hasn't been clarified, as Great Grandmother really liked getting married] committed suicide when she was a young child. Her older sister found him with his head in the oven.

Confused yet? Yeah, me too.

So how did GG end up in the gutter? I can't sleep, so you might as well get a brief picture. It goes something like;
Bullied at primary school - "Your dad doesn't live with you, you must have done something wrong". Ain't kids nice? Leave school on verge of nervous breakdown, self harming, and find secondary school slightly more pleasant. Well. I used to hide in the library.
Aged 12, stop eating. Starvation is my new form of self harm, but it is quickly stopped when I collapse in school.
Aged 14, have first major depressive episode. Lasts approximately 6 months, and triggered by being evicted from the house I grew up in. Mum throws things at me whenever she gets stressed out. I learn to dodge quickly. Increase the self harm, and discover joys of alcohol to "drown my sorrows".
Aged 15, arguments with Mum, second depressive episode. Self harming is discovered, and the household is subtly changed by the presence of razorblades with little safety bars, and blunt knives. Mum fails to understand that this isn't about her, and continually asks "why are you doing this to me?".
Aged 16, have been thrown out of home and college in quick succession. Have a termination. Third depressive episode. Characterised by lots of drinking, self destructive behaviour, and trying to throw myself under buses. Fortunately I have some very good friends, who tend to pick GG up and carry her kicking and screaming onto aforementioned bus.
Aged 17, bit more sorted, living with my Nan and back at college. Very homesick. Then - BAM! Fourth depressive episode, resulting in me staying in bed for 3 months and promptly failing my exams. Discover that Citalopram is NOT for me.
Aged 18, living in a house with friends, until the dishwasher sets it on fire. Stay with aunt and uncle, hold things together until I snap, spend a night walking on and off of the train tracks, then shimmy on down to A&E. Fifth depressive episode. Declared not suicidal, and sent home with a prescription for Prozac. Go to stay with boyfriend until I'm more "with it". Then have a possibly manic episode, which I remember barely anything of, except that when my mood settled, I had been fired from my job and started training as a Mental Health nurse. Irony!
Since then the Prozac has sufficed, although it's been gradually increased as the effects have decreased. I've had sessions with a psychologist, and I see a counsellor on a weekly basis.
Now, the Prozac has stopped working, and I'm close to how I was when I ended up at A&E. However,I don't have the motivation to get dressed, let alone get dead, so hopefully my mood will improve before my energy levels do?

Wednesday, 29 October 2008

It is recommended that you do not consume alcohol whilst taking your medication.


Well. The "no drinking or smoking" plan has not worked out very well.

Lovely Prozac makes alcohol MUCH more effective, so a couple of Vodka and Diet Cokes are having quite an effect.

And I've had two cigarettes.

And a few pulls on a joint.


None of the above is going to have a positive impact on my long-term mental state. However, they've kept me from self harming and purging, for this evening at least.

Lesser of two evils?

Tuesday, 28 October 2008

That Brick Wall.

I feel like I've run head first into a solid wall. Like I've pushed and pushed and then BAM!

This is going to be poorly written, but I'm not very "with it" right now.
I went to work yesterday, first time I've gone since Tuesday. And today? I'm back in bed.

I haven't bathed, washed my hair or cooked in over a week.
My laundry bin is overflowing, my guinea pigs are quite frankly being neglected, and I'm living off the occasional forced down bowl of cereal.

Welcome to my world, eh?
So, next time my Connexions PA asks me, how does my illness affect my everyday life, well, I think I'll direct her straight to this post.

I have a splitting headache, I'm dehydrated but that means I have to get out of bed less to use the toilet, so I don't care, and I'm repulsive.

I want to die quietly and apologetically, because this existence isn't helping anyone.

Monday, 20 October 2008

I Love My Job

Today I got offered an interview to become a Veterinary Nurse, my idea of heaven. I turned it down because I love my job. I love looking after these amazing people, I love every second of it, even the ones that make me want to cry.
I can do this.

Sunday, 12 October 2008

Sooner Or Later, You Will Fall

Work was going very well, I was starting to gain a bit of self confidence. I managed most of last week, and was supposed to work today instead of Friday because I was going to a wedding with Viking. Friday went well, Saturday night I felt like things were falling apart because he was going back to Leeds, and this morning - I couldn't get up for work. I miss him so much. When he isn't here, my reason for getting out of bed, for eating, for breathing, is just gone. I need to live for myself and not for someone else, but I can't do that until I like myself.
I managed to eventually clean out the guinea pigs, chuck in some oven chips and watch some Russell Brand to up the comedy value in my pathetic life. From that, I realised that the answer to my problems is a loyal and sincere addiction to heroin. Sorry. I mean to stop beating myself up?


Friday, 3 October 2008

Prozac, My Knight In Shining Armour

My increased Fluoxetine dose [60mg] is having an effect.
I was starting to lose faith, but now... I have breathing space. I have a little bit more control over the depression. I have an interest in doing things. Staying in bed isn't quite so appealing.

Knights in shining armour come in all shapes and sizes. This one is special, because it puts me back on my feet, and back in control.

I'm going to the Condom Motorcycle Rally this weekend, on Mersea Island. I've missed the last few rallies, but I'm definitely up for this one. I've done my hair [big chunky dreads - maybe a bit too big but fuck it - they make a good pillow when you're camping]. Boyfriend is in Leeds, so will be going with some friends. I've never pulled at rallies anyway - the idea of one night of very drunk and probably very crap sex in a tent just doesn't appeal.

The weight is coming back on at an alarming rate, but this weekend I aim to dance the night away so I might shift some of it. It's kind of saddening to gain it back so quickly when it was hard work to lose it.