A week on... Citalopram
Yawning, tiredness, nausea, feeling "flighty", sweating and headaches... blurg.
Showing posts with label the darkness is all around. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the darkness is all around. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Anxiety and Depression
I suffered from anxiety and depression throughout my tweens, teens and early 20s. Bulimia, self harm, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts and attempts, drug and alcohol misuse... but as I moved towards my late 20s, I felt I could walk the tightrope well and manage myself and my actions ok. Particularly bulimia and self harm were controlled.
Then my Dad died and it triggered last great depression (2005/2006). In the intervening years there have been periods of darkness and anxiety and tears. Getting married and having children were big life changes to do without the support of my parents.
After I gave birth in 2013 I had a feeling something was wrong - certainly not depression as such but a lack of any clear emotions... after some investigation that turned out to be a hormonal imbalance so I came of the pill, periods returned and also my feelings.
Since then my anxiety and depression have been on the slow burn, increasing here and there. The usual coping mechanisms (exercise, mindfulness and self care including attempting to sleep and eat well) aren't keeping it at bay or I'm not able to do them... I've come to a tipping point. Anxiety means I worry constantly so I wake in the night or cancel social engagements or don't leave the house at all, my immune system is low so I catch every illness going and don't recover quickly, the negative thoughts are pushing me to 'control' my eating and punishments (cutting or making myself sick which I don't want to do - I know they don't 'fix' you). I want these thoughts and anxiety back under my control so I went to the doctor yesterday and elected to take Citalopram, a SSRI which can help to restore the balance of serotonin in the brain.
We'll see how it goes.
I suffered from anxiety and depression throughout my tweens, teens and early 20s. Bulimia, self harm, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts and attempts, drug and alcohol misuse... but as I moved towards my late 20s, I felt I could walk the tightrope well and manage myself and my actions ok. Particularly bulimia and self harm were controlled.
Then my Dad died and it triggered last great depression (2005/2006). In the intervening years there have been periods of darkness and anxiety and tears. Getting married and having children were big life changes to do without the support of my parents.
After I gave birth in 2013 I had a feeling something was wrong - certainly not depression as such but a lack of any clear emotions... after some investigation that turned out to be a hormonal imbalance so I came of the pill, periods returned and also my feelings.
Since then my anxiety and depression have been on the slow burn, increasing here and there. The usual coping mechanisms (exercise, mindfulness and self care including attempting to sleep and eat well) aren't keeping it at bay or I'm not able to do them... I've come to a tipping point. Anxiety means I worry constantly so I wake in the night or cancel social engagements or don't leave the house at all, my immune system is low so I catch every illness going and don't recover quickly, the negative thoughts are pushing me to 'control' my eating and punishments (cutting or making myself sick which I don't want to do - I know they don't 'fix' you). I want these thoughts and anxiety back under my control so I went to the doctor yesterday and elected to take Citalopram, a SSRI which can help to restore the balance of serotonin in the brain.
We'll see how it goes.
Monday, November 30, 2015
10 years of grief
It wasn't exactly a sudden death. We had been given time.
We grew up with a father who was a drinker, social at first, then solitary. Alcoholism takes over slowly and grows like mould. I didn't have the best childhood but certainly not the worst. Despite the alcoholism, I knew we were loved. I should be thankful that we had 10 years of a sober Dad and 10 years of knowing that he would die early... hepatitides and cirrhosis of the liver but we ignored the fact. Ignored when he could no longer process salt. Ignored it still when his belly grew large and had to be drained. Tried to ignore the blood. Once he got to the ICU at Conquest Hospital it was time to accept that things weren't looking good. An ambulance journey to the liver ward in King's College Hospital, London where I joined my mum and my brother... waiting. Morphine given he uttered his last words "into the arms of morpheus" and slept for a whole weekend before he finally died.
Time is taken up with funeral planning and arrangements and making sure you let everyone in the family know. After the funeral my grief became overwhelming and despite the support of my family and partner, grief counselling and anti depressants the urge to wipe myself off the face of the earth became all encompassing. After a year of suicidal thoughts and only darkness I began to look forward to taking steps into the small shaft of light that had appeared in the corner of my eye - we moved, I got a new job, we tried to spend time doing happy things.
During this time my mum started shrinking... she was a big woman with a big personality and she just... got smaller. She, we, her doctor all assumed it was grief but two years later she managed to get some tests done. Cancer of the oesophagus which despite chemo (that was a shit Christmas!) spread like wildfire through her body. 6 months later she was dead too.
My parents missed watching me get married, have children, grow up (28 - 38 has been a long decade!). I miss them every day with all my heart.
So, grief does evolve and change over time but there are times when it hits you like a train. Sometimes you can plan for these - anniversaries, birthdays, Christmas - you know that they are going to be hard. Other times like when my little girl lifts her eyebrow in a particular way my dad did or when my little boy laughs like my mum did, my heart could explode from the love and pain it causes.
Paul Lee Foxall
29/05/1948 - 05/12/05
"As they pulled you out of the oxygen tent you asked for the latest party"
David Bowie, Diamond Dogs
Thursday, October 02, 2008
I'm short of inspiration. I'm running on empty. I cannot create. I'm tired. I cannot think in a straight line. I'm worried about the future. I'm Esther crawling between the mattress and the padded bedstead.
It wasn't exactly a sudden death. We had been given time.
We grew up with a father who was a drinker, social at first, then solitary. Alcoholism takes over slowly and grows like mould. I didn't have the best childhood but certainly not the worst. Despite the alcoholism, I knew we were loved. I should be thankful that we had 10 years of a sober Dad and 10 years of knowing that he would die early... hepatitides and cirrhosis of the liver but we ignored the fact. Ignored when he could no longer process salt. Ignored it still when his belly grew large and had to be drained. Tried to ignore the blood. Once he got to the ICU at Conquest Hospital it was time to accept that things weren't looking good. An ambulance journey to the liver ward in King's College Hospital, London where I joined my mum and my brother... waiting. Morphine given he uttered his last words "into the arms of morpheus" and slept for a whole weekend before he finally died.
Time is taken up with funeral planning and arrangements and making sure you let everyone in the family know. After the funeral my grief became overwhelming and despite the support of my family and partner, grief counselling and anti depressants the urge to wipe myself off the face of the earth became all encompassing. After a year of suicidal thoughts and only darkness I began to look forward to taking steps into the small shaft of light that had appeared in the corner of my eye - we moved, I got a new job, we tried to spend time doing happy things.
During this time my mum started shrinking... she was a big woman with a big personality and she just... got smaller. She, we, her doctor all assumed it was grief but two years later she managed to get some tests done. Cancer of the oesophagus which despite chemo (that was a shit Christmas!) spread like wildfire through her body. 6 months later she was dead too.
My parents missed watching me get married, have children, grow up (28 - 38 has been a long decade!). I miss them every day with all my heart.
So, grief does evolve and change over time but there are times when it hits you like a train. Sometimes you can plan for these - anniversaries, birthdays, Christmas - you know that they are going to be hard. Other times like when my little girl lifts her eyebrow in a particular way my dad did or when my little boy laughs like my mum did, my heart could explode from the love and pain it causes.
Paul Lee Foxall
29/05/1948 - 05/12/05
"As they pulled you out of the oxygen tent you asked for the latest party"
David Bowie, Diamond Dogs
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
I'm barely able to function. Everything is taking twice as long as it should. I feel as though I'm walking in syrup. My throat keeps contracting so I can't breathe. I'm scared. I sob on public transport. I can't sleep. When I do finally get to sleep, I can't wake up. I'm angry. I feel like screaming. I laugh. I'm manic. I stamp my foot and shout "it's not fucking fair".
Apparently these are all natural reactions to death.
I just miss my dad so fucking much.
Jan Maloney
17/08/52 - 07/07/08
I'm barely able to function. Everything is taking twice as long as it should. I feel as though I'm walking in syrup. My throat keeps contracting so I can't breathe. I'm scared. I sob on public transport. I can't sleep. When I do finally get to sleep, I can't wake up. I'm angry. I feel like screaming. I laugh. I'm manic. I stamp my foot and shout "it's not fucking fair".
Apparently these are all natural reactions to death.
I just miss my dad so fucking much.
17/08/52 - 07/07/08
I'm short of inspiration. I'm running on empty. I cannot create. I'm tired. I cannot think in a straight line. I'm worried about the future. I'm Esther crawling between the mattress and the padded bedstead.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
Thinking about Mother's Day
Trying to keep busy and keep my mind off that word...mum. A whole hole you've left. Tears are often pricking at my lids. My anger at the universe in unrivaled. Those questions all begin with why... I was already so heartbroken by Lee dying that I almost haven't felt your death quite as deeply - I feel ashamed almost. Did I not love you as dearly as I loved him? This seems unlikely. I have strong feelings, throat constricting, breathing difficult. Grief is so difficult because it fills every part of your life. A memory at every step. A recall. Sometimes happy following soon by sorrow. I can't cope with the up and down so I don't dare to think of what I'm putting my lover, my friends and my remaining family through. I'm the matriarch of my family but I'm not a mother. My womb's emptiness seems like an insult. The universe's last laugh. Mum is in every shop window, in every magazine. 'Why don't you treat your mother to this, to that'. There are people who are mother figures but why should I put that much pressure on another person. I have so much need inside that it would drown another. Even Jan couldn't cope with my needs at times; so much they are. I have the freedom too - there are good sides to being parentless. The first time I visited my granddad in the home - I wouldn't have been able to watch my parents there decaying over years. I'm glad I don't have to. The hospices were relatively quick. 6 months after we heard the word cancer. 6 months to die but more just wasting away. We thought it was the grief from loosing Lee. I'm only sorry I didn't listen sooner; too wrapped up in my own grief.
Trying to keep busy and keep my mind off that word...mum. A whole hole you've left. Tears are often pricking at my lids. My anger at the universe in unrivaled. Those questions all begin with why... I was already so heartbroken by Lee dying that I almost haven't felt your death quite as deeply - I feel ashamed almost. Did I not love you as dearly as I loved him? This seems unlikely. I have strong feelings, throat constricting, breathing difficult. Grief is so difficult because it fills every part of your life. A memory at every step. A recall. Sometimes happy following soon by sorrow. I can't cope with the up and down so I don't dare to think of what I'm putting my lover, my friends and my remaining family through. I'm the matriarch of my family but I'm not a mother. My womb's emptiness seems like an insult. The universe's last laugh. Mum is in every shop window, in every magazine. 'Why don't you treat your mother to this, to that'. There are people who are mother figures but why should I put that much pressure on another person. I have so much need inside that it would drown another. Even Jan couldn't cope with my needs at times; so much they are. I have the freedom too - there are good sides to being parentless. The first time I visited my granddad in the home - I wouldn't have been able to watch my parents there decaying over years. I'm glad I don't have to. The hospices were relatively quick. 6 months after we heard the word cancer. 6 months to die but more just wasting away. We thought it was the grief from loosing Lee. I'm only sorry I didn't listen sooner; too wrapped up in my own grief.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Boo's Booze
I doing OK on the booze front - only 1 pint so far. Yesterday, on a night out where I'd usually have consumed around 5 or 6.
Tonight is a test though as a big night out for Alice who's moving to Manchester.
Generally, as not on tour or doing festivals I have consumed a mere portion of what I'd usually do in an average summer.
Life plods on. I had a dream last night that Jan wasn't dead and it was all a big mistake. She appeared from the sea on a blue sailing boat while I was walking along a beach. Her and a friend had just been lost. I awoke to emptiness, a list of mundane tasks and a constant nagging panic just a or two breath away.
I doing OK on the booze front - only 1 pint so far. Yesterday, on a night out where I'd usually have consumed around 5 or 6.
Tonight is a test though as a big night out for Alice who's moving to Manchester.
Generally, as not on tour or doing festivals I have consumed a mere portion of what I'd usually do in an average summer.
Life plods on. I had a dream last night that Jan wasn't dead and it was all a big mistake. She appeared from the sea on a blue sailing boat while I was walking along a beach. Her and a friend had just been lost. I awoke to emptiness, a list of mundane tasks and a constant nagging panic just a or two breath away.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Doris
I remember you coming back to live in London and dancing me around the front room.
I remember when you caught me smoking you made me sit on a stool in the shop and smoke the rest of your B&H.
I remember you laughing because I was so scared of the eels in the fish shop down the road.
I remember you buying me the biggest ice cream I've ever seen when we went on holiday.
I remember Grandad, Dash and me hiding those morning choc ices from you.
As you said to me on recent occasions in pure understatement; your dying yesterday is a bit of blow.
I remember you coming back to live in London and dancing me around the front room.
I remember when you caught me smoking you made me sit on a stool in the shop and smoke the rest of your B&H.
I remember you laughing because I was so scared of the eels in the fish shop down the road.
I remember you buying me the biggest ice cream I've ever seen when we went on holiday.
I remember Grandad, Dash and me hiding those morning choc ices from you.
As you said to me on recent occasions in pure understatement; your dying yesterday is a bit of blow.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Life...
Life in the recent months has been played out at extremes. The ups and downs are roller coaster like and I have an almost constant about to *vomit in my hand* feeling.
Downs
Life in the recent months has been played out at extremes. The ups and downs are roller coaster like and I have an almost constant about to *vomit in my hand* feeling.
Downs
- My mum has terminal cancer. There are no words I can use to explain how I feel. I do hate the word terminal...
- I've had a miscarriage. Yes, they are common. Yes, it was a "silly" time to get pregnant. It doesn't stop the doom laden thoughts about a future of miscarriages and an inability to have children.
- The weather. The cold, driving rain. Great when you have a warm, cosy home and hot chocolate to get back to.
- The lack of heating in our rented flat. It is beautiful but goddamn it's cold.
- The lack of a decent shower. Mornings are good when you wake up with a hot, enlivening shower. The shower dribbles and is scorching or freezing. I hate it. It is evil.
- A lovely new job with lovely people. 3 days a week so I have time for the freelance stuff too.
- We've bought a house on the same road as Lornie and Will. A 4 bedroom Edwardian end of terrace that we can (hopefully) grow a family in. It has a good sized garden and there are plans afoot for vegetables a plenty. Fingers crossed we should have the keys by February.
- Egypt cruise (Nile and then El Gouna) booked for December '08.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Tomorrow marks the 2 year anniversary of Lee dying. Ashes will be scattered by Exeter catacombs and a candle will be lit. Words of loss whispered.
For those left behind, we have a fresh task set by the universe - cancer's such a big word, carrying so much weight with it. I pulled out an angel card and it said strength and that's all I can do - just try to be as strong as possible.
Poison apples indeed.
For those left behind, we have a fresh task set by the universe - cancer's such a big word, carrying so much weight with it. I pulled out an angel card and it said strength and that's all I can do - just try to be as strong as possible.
Poison apples indeed.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
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