A Review of Me, Myself and Blogging

Do you think the people at My Therapy are going to be celebrating their success this weekend? "Look at all the people who have signed up - our online diagnostic tool is BRILLLIIIAAAANNNNNNTTTTTTT!"

Such a shame.

I think tools like this are good for two things -
a. A bit of a laugh
b. Double-checking that yes, you are still a MENTAL.

So... I took their survey, and according to my, possibly unrealiable answers, have been diagnosed with;

- Bipolar II (Depressive)
I was diagnosed during my one-before-last episode as having "severe recurrent depression on the Bipolar spectrum", so this sort-of-fits.

- Schizophreniform Disorder
This was based on my rather unusual ideas during episodes of high and low mood, and around food. I'm also a bit paranoid in social situations, but I think that is more to do with low self-esteem. I have been monitored for "emerging psychotic symptoms", but think I can safely say this isn't a correct diagnosis.

- Agoraphobia without History of Panic Disorder
I think this because I don't go out when I am depressed. Which I think is a pretty common experience. So, incorrect, again.

Overall, not too inaccurate, considering it is a computer. It might be on par with one Consultant I had the misfortune to be allocated too!


In other news, I'm questioning whether to continue blogging. It served a purpose during my last-but-one severe episode of depression, but I spend much more time readng blogs than I do writing mine. I'm not sure yet, but I am considering a hiatus.

I've also got a new hobby, or rather, revived an old one.
I've started part-loaning a pony, a couple of days a week. He is lovely, safe and has already started increasing my confidence greatly. It is also another reason to say "NO" to the eating disordered thoughts, as well as any suicidal ones.

I'm going to try and blog more often over the next few weeks, and then decide whether it is helpful or useful for me now. I can't promise anything, as I'm tied up with two essays which are progressing extremely slowly. I keep trying to write something, anything, but being unable to string together a sentence.

DLA Tribunal

I had my Tribunal yesterday, for Disability Living Allowance.

The brief back story is that following November 2008, my Connexions PA said we should definitely put in an application for DLA. We got the forms, and began the process of filling them out in late February 2009, once I was well enough to complete them. They were sent in early March 2009.

I was declined for both Care and Mobility in May. My Psychiatrist's junior doctor had filled in form, which I felt was contradictory. It stated that I had no history of self-harm or self-neglect. Connexions PA and myself sent a letter contending this, I appealed, and it was looked at and declined again.

Tribunal was originally booked for November 2009 (I think). I wasn't too well, but made the effort to go. We were just leaving when they phoned and informed us that my GP's notes had failed to arrive, so it was postponed.

My GP notes were re-requested. I ended up collecting them myself on Tuesday, and Connexions PA faxed them to the Tribunal service, as they kept forgetting to do them.

So, the Tribunal finally went ahead, and it was horrible.
I had the three people who form the panel. There was another lady who I think was something to do with the decision making service (I was so nervous, I can't remember).

We were in there for over an hour. I'm pretty sure that isn't normal practice. I feel like they enjoyed grilling me. I hate talking about my low periods, when the depression really takes over. I hate admitting that I became paranoid, and had delusions. I hate reading how close I was to being prescribed anti-psychotics or even being hospitalised. I hate realising how unwell I was, describing some of the humiliating things I did. Not bathing for weeks or going out in my pajamas with a coat over the top, because dressing was too much effort.

Afterwards they said they would write to me. They said everyone was getting their decisions in the post that day, because of this lady coming to oversee things. However, whilst I was waiting for my expenses for the train ticket, a woman went in and came out less than five minutes later with her decision.

I knew I wasn't getting anything, and the letter this morning confirmed it. I was only hoping for Lower Rate Care. I feel like a fraud.

Rock On The [Long] Weekend

I may have mentioned this before [I'm too lazy to check], but my Mum and step-dad have a caravan in a tiny little hamlet somewhere in Essex. We'll call it Doris Bay. It has two caravan sites, two pubs, one marina and one post office, which is owned by a charming World of Warcraft addict and his Thai bride.

I was there last weekend, and I'm going again tomorrow evening, until Monday. My Mum has used the money my Nan left her to "upgrade" her caravan - that is, the new one is two feet wider, two feet longer and VERY pink. It was owned by the "only gays on the campsite" until last weekend, when my Mum purchased it. We have lots of work to do - cleaning it top-to-bottom, replacing the bedroom carpets and making part of the plot into a driveway area for my step-dad's speedboat.

I'm rather sad to be saying goodbye to the old 'van, after four summers there, but my step-dad is about to fall through the bathroom floor, and having a real bed as opposed to an 18 inch wide bunk will be a improvement. I say real bed, I mean 2 foot 6 by 5 foot 6 - leaving me about an inch short, but still an improvement.

The village is full of characters, and I just hope my ban from the pub has been lifted [I was drunk, and rearranged all the bins in the village]. My main concern regarding the weekend is alcohol - it tends to be a place where I drink. A couple of cans or a bottle of wine throughout the afternoon, a few pints at the pub, flaming Sambuca with my drunken uncles - staying sober has never been an option [and on that bed, who would want to?].

This week has been a bit problematic drink-wise. I returned from the caravan on Monday evening, and was extremely paranoid. In fact I was positive there was someone in my flat, and I spent almost the whole night awake, shaking, clutching my phone and struggling not to call my Mum. Tuesday night, I had friends over and got drunk. Result: They stay, and I sleep. It's safe. Last night, I went to a friend's house, had a few glasses of wine on an empty stomach, and once again, slept without too many problems.

I'm sitting here with a pint of cider and trying to decide whether to finish the bottle.
I'm also making an informed decision to start smoking again as soon as the shop opens.

Gash.
Why can't I stick to orange juice and sugar free gum?

Slight Delirium...

... Or just overly surreal dreams?
I took my first dose of Venlafaxine, and maybe it was because I was nervous about it, but I had some very odd dreams/delusions.
I'm siding with the "it was a dream" idea at the moment, but I'm pretty sure I was awake, or almost. However I managed to convince myself that there was a man in my bed [to the point I nearly called Boyfriend to apologise for cheating], that I had spoken to my friend when I got home that evening, and that my housemate had woke me at 7am for a fry up. I've been in a huff with him all day, and can't exactly explain that the reason is that I'm a bit nuts.

I'm thinking it was just dreams, my over-active mind, but the medication leaflet says that less than 1 in 10 will experience abnormal dreams, and less than 1 in 10,000 will experience delirium.

I'm going to take my second dose now, so hopefully this will settle down. While I'm experiencing it, there is to be no watching horror movies or reading serial killer books before bed time!