All posts tagged Depression

Its that deep dark funk that sometimes total envelopes your life.

Depression and Medication …. its a fun game of tag you are it …

I have been patting myself on the back lately as I seem to be on a good level emotional keel.

2011 was a year with a slow slide downwards, and then an eventual bottom out, that left me weeping and clinging to the edge of sanity with torn and bloodied fingernails. I’d love to regale you with tales of how I conquered that shit, but that bitch kicked my arse and then came back to poke me in the eye!!!

In 2011, I built a close and totally dependent relationship with a psychiatrist who seemed to understand how to help me. We worked through a few options of medication until we found the “most right for today” option.

I arrived in his office when I was shaking and jibbering, so he did have rather broken person to fix. I was convinced that there was not enough medication in the universe that would possibly help me. But I was wrong. Not the first time, not the last time.

The right medication is pretty unbelievable. I was in an absolute state, and many of my symptoms had stopped being psychological, and had become physical symptoms. I had neck and back pain that felt like spasms. I had also been clenching my jaw so hard for so long that my face ached. I had clenched my jaw so tightly that I had cracked one of my molars.

Depression and medication is a bit of a challenge.

Medication, at some point, makes you feel like you have got a handle on life and that you might try to nurture a pot plant. At least for some part of the day.

The problem with this buoyant feeling and the twinkle in your eye, is that it makes you feel like you are “alright” and just might be coping. So the first thing that you do is toss your meds – ‘cos who needs those when you are feeling so damn good!!

Once you are feeling good, with such a good handle on not having an emotional vomit every time you go out for dinner, well then the nest step is to cancel those Dr Psychologist appointments.

First, they are not free. Secondly, it is an hour of you sitting on a couch talking about shit that you really would rather not think about, And thirdly, at some point your medical aid runs out and you are coughing up a few thousand, to chat to someone, about shit you don’t want to think about any more, because you feel so damn even keeled!!

So you cancel the crap out of those weekly appointments. Because now you have the coping mechanisms that only drugs and therapy can make you think you have.

Flush with the extra hours available in your week, and the chance of maybe a few rand saved, you face your new life with a whole new outlook.

Depression, anxiety disorder, panic disorder is no picnic. I know “depression” is a term that gets bandied around fairly freely – and I am definitely not the one to judge whether someone is having a bad day or is diagnosed with depression.

So here I sit. Feeling not so bad.

I have cut back on some of my medication. I take a slow release SEROQUEL XR, and an IVEDAL sleeping tablet at night. I used to take another set of medication during the day, but as time went by I realised I could cope without it, and cut back, as I felt the Seroquel was working well for me on it’s own.

I could probably sleep by myself. I could probably. But right now I am reasoning “why take the risk when what I am taking have little to no side effects, and what I am taking works?”

I have cancelled my Dr CBT, and I am feeling all pretty “hey check at me, nearly got this LIFE shit sorted…”

But around the edges, I start to realise that cracks are starting to reveal themselves. Not big hulking sink-the-titanic cracks, but hair-line fractures.

It’s time I book another “just checking in” session with my psychiatrist and more importantly make an appointment with DR CBT.

And such is the “always there” black dog …… even when you think he has gone away.

On a non-related note, do you know the collective noun for a group of cats, is a pounce of cats? I love that – my favourite collective noun is a “Murder of Crows” more … I do love collective nouns. This last paragraph has no relation at all to the last post, but this is sort of how my brain works.

7 Comments

by reluctantmom on February 6, 2013 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged Black Dog of Depression, Depression, Depression and Anxiety, Medication for Depression, Struggling with depression

Posted by reluctantmom on February 6, 2013

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2013/02/06/depression-and-medication-its-a-fun-game-of-tag-you-are-it/

Bad Blogger … go sit in the naughty corner ….

I have been a very bad blogger. I have not been very good at posting for the last few weeks.

It really is not for a lack of writing. I realised I have 105 “draft posts” that I have not posted for varying reasons, so clearly I have stuff to say.

I feel a bit like I am losing my voice – my ability to express myself – right now I am feeling very much like this image – but with better cuticle and nail care!

It is very frustrating as part of how I process “stuff”is by getting it out, and ideally getting it out on this blog.

Right now I am feeling very “idea and thought” constipated – all these thoughts, ideas, frustrations, moments of joy, moments of anger, and well … frustrations are bottled up and not getting out.

Clearly I need a purge. Usually I will look for the most inappropriate time or occasion to do this …..

I was busy writing a post about how I have been fortunate enough not to have MY BLACK DOG OF DEPRESSION back in some time. I was all “hey check me out, no worries…. har har har….” Yes, well, who is laughing now? Not me in the event I was being a bit vague.

I have honestly not missed the whooshing sound of his tail, and the pitter patter of his feet at night. As much as I try to picture him as this loping large black Labrador, I really think he is a m-fuker and can do without him.

I am starting to think that I might have “announced” it a bit prematurely, and maybe the inability to speak, to say what I feel, what I am thinking is probably a sign of a dip in the not too distant future.

It might just be an overdose on all the chaos and madness that is associated with this time of year.

Anyway, look out for some vague really makes-no-sense posts coming up … apologise if it all appears a bit nonsensical.

2 Comments

by reluctantmom on January 1, 2013 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged Depression, Depression and Anxiety, Living with a Black Dog of Depression

Posted by reluctantmom on January 1, 2013

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2013/01/01/bad-blogger-go-sit-in-the-naughty-corner/

Depression in children … whose parents have depression ….

Once we have got past the party in a cellophane wrapper that Depression and Anxiety Disorder is, it really is something I would be reluctant to wish on nearly just about everyone.

It’s not like a broken leg where you have a cast and the cool kids sign, and in 6 – 8 weeks you can take it off and that is you good to go.

Unfortunately it is bit like diarrhea.

It strikes you usually in the middle of the night. You spend quite a bit of time in the bathroom wondering if you will survive this.

When the sun rises you still have shit coming out of every orifice, and it is such an unattractive process you really do not want to post it on your status update. You do not want everyone to know that you are making skid marks in your panties, and more importantly you have no idea where you got this bug from, and how long it is going to hang around for. So instead you make jokes about “feeling a bit off colour” …..

So enough about me and the simile that is depression and diarrhea.

I really “fear” for my children. I worry that they will not inherent my good hair and nail genes, but instead will be the proud new owners of full scale depression and anxiety disorder.

Can I prevent it in some way? Sadly no. Can I worry and stress about it? Worry is my middle name. Actually it is Lucille, but you know what I mean.

I worry about all of them. I worry about Connor the most, he is so sensitive and has always been an “old soul” – he got really upset when he found out about what happened to Jesus around Easter time.

Connor was at a Roman Catholic school when he was young. Great school, they were quite into Hail Marys and Our Fathers though. I was willing to over look my discrepancies with the trinity because I liked the school.

The first year Connor was there they taught the usual run up to Easter. I fetch Connor from school and he is sobbing. Like crocodile tears with snot.

He gets in the car and goes: “Why, why, why did they kill Jesus?!” and bursts in to tears.

That really was one of the first, of several signs that Connor just took too much from a situation.

Connor gets very upset if we are upset. Not because he is in trouble, but he gets upset if we are upset.

If we are sad, Connor is desperately sad.

It is like his boundaries of what are his feelings versus the feelings that belong to another person are a bit hazy. Sound familiar?

The reason I am raising this issue today is that Connor has been struggling with stomach cramps for a few days.

Stomach cramps and me, have a very close relationship. I have so much buscopan, levispas, bevispan, and anything else you can get on a script or if you cry loud enough at an all-night pharmacy – doubling over and crying like a 3 year old, can sometimes prove quite effective.

I started my IBS relationship in about 1994.

It was there before, but 1994 was my first big person job, and with my first big person job came IBS for 3 – 7 days per month. For years I thought it was menstruation cycle link — fraid not.

Connor’s complaining about cramping makes me worry he has the first signs of IBS. I worry he has the first signs of IBS. I worry that IBS is a pre-cursor for signs of depression.

My (other/too many to number) concern is that taking Connor to a psyciatrist/psychologist to have been assessed for depression/anxiety disorder, will add as a catalyst to depression … I know that sounds unreasonable, but there it is.

10 Comments

by reluctantmom on October 16, 2012 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged Anxiety, Children with Depression, Depression, Depression and Anxiety, Depression and Anxiety Disorder, Panic and Anxiety Disorder

Posted by reluctantmom on October 16, 2012

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2012/10/16/depression-in-children-whose-parents-have-depression/

Chemist homework – done …..

{I just gave myself a gold star, because actually I deserve it}

I really do not want to confess that I have spent at least 3 therapy sessions discussing why I cannot go to the pharmacist to explain that he made an error filling my script and I had experienced a bit of a downhill slide.

{understatement on the bit}

My CBT doctor gave me a home work assignment last time and encouraged me to go to the pharmacist and explain he made an error.

We spoke for ages about why it was so difficult for me {I feel at fault, even though it was not my fault, I still do.}

We spoke about what was the worst that could happen if I spoke to the pharmacist. {I would feel embarrassed that I had done something wrong. I would feel bad that I was making him feel bad. I was scared he would make it appear that it was my fault … you know because everything always is}

We spoke about the ability to see a situation for what it is. Facing your fears and appreciating that your perception of something is not always what actually happens/happened/is going to happen – your video feed of a situation is really laced with your own {warped} self-doubt.

Yesterday I went to the pharmacist because I had Dr CBT today.

The idea was to talk to him, and then say “It’s done, I confronted him, look how I roll – word to my hommies!” {or something of that ilk}

I bought wet wipes and vitamins the size of suppositories I will never use. I don’t buy vitamins. I do not buy wet wipes that cost R45.00

I did not speak the pharmacist, because I felt too embarrassed to. I bought my bizarre assortement of items, and left the store.

I had an appointment with Dr CBT today and we discussed the pharmacist, and several other issues. I did feel a bit embarrassed/annoyed that we were rehashing the pharmacist thing.

The vision I conjure up, the perception that it is all going to go so very badly. My coping mechanisms that I employ to deal with situations where I think I am going to be uncomfortable, then the anxiety and stress those coping mechanisms create. {repeat cycle ad nauseam}

The issue is not whether I actually confront the pharmacist, the issue is why I won’t and how it is an illustration of what I do in my day-to-day life. Over and over again.

I avoid situations – at all costs – as I am scared of feeling bad. I am terrified of embarrassing myself, drawing attention to myself.

I am scared of how the other person will react. I am anxious to avoid the uncomfortable feelings that I imagine will occur.

The result is often that by the time I arrive at a place/space/situation – I am so stressed and anxious about feeling stressed and anxious and worrying I am going to say or do something that will embarrass or draw attention to me. It is often a bit crippling.

My “coping mechanism” is to do something, or say something, that I know is inappropriate or not “socially acceptable.” Then I can say to myself “there, done it, now you are embarrassed, people think you are an arse, now get on with your day already!!”

Works. Not well. But works. {basically the theory of “Out yourself before someone else does.”}

I did not say it was a healthy coping mechanism, I just indicated it was one I employed.

Anyone after Dr CBT appointment I was feeling quite wired, and wanted to just get this pharmacist confrontation over and done with.

I went in and waited at the counter. When the pharmacist approached me, I explained I would like to talk to him for a few minutes.

{sweating bullets, thinking everyone is looking at me, feeling embarrassed and highly anxious – and overcoming an overriding need/urge to run screaming out of the pharmacy}

He said, of course. Finished what he was doing and he led me into a separate little office.

I explained that I had been given the incorrect script in November and it had been repeated over three months, with the result that November, December and January were a bit more shaky than they needed to be. He has swapped out the medication I was prescribed for a generic and then got the grammage wrong, so I was on the wrong stuff, and too low a level.

He apologised profusely, and then I had a bit of a cry. And then he gave me a bit of a hug. Strange pharmacist giving me a bit of a cuddle in the private pharmacy room – nope nothing strange going on here, move along, move along!

I explained to Pharmacist that I was getting better as the medication had been adjusted. Mr Therapist writes out script, Pharmacist fills it, I put it in my mouth with a sip of water. That is pretty much how it goes, I do not check and am {wasn’t – am now} not aware of what I am on or the grammage.

When the script had been filled, I had queried it twice, but I was made to feel {or I made myself feel} that I was being silly and should just take the pills, so I did.

He was so great about it – and said that if I wanted to scream at him, it was fine, I should.

He was really kind, really sorry, really apologetic, and really understood how I felt – probably helped he was holding my latest script, and based on the cocktail of drugs on the list he was quickly able to assess that “stability” was not my middle name. It is Lucille actually.

Nothing in this situation was horrible or bad. Not ONE of the bad/world is ending outcomes that I had imagined and been ruminating over for the last few weeks had occurred.

I don’t feel all sorts of wonderful, but I feel good {well a bit good} and have a real sense of achievement — I realise it is a bit silly and is difficult to explain to someone else. Who is sane.

I decided to buy myself a cow-patch straw basket that was for sale at the Chemist, it was my reward for being brave!

10 Comments

by reluctantmom on March 27, 2012 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged Anxiety, Depression, Pharmacist, Stress and anxiety

Posted by reluctantmom on March 27, 2012

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2012/03/27/chemist-homework-done/

The Mindful Way through Depression …..

I am not big on reading self-help books on depression or anxiety. Partly because I think most of them are shite, and secondly because my filter system between other people’s issues and mine gets a bit hazy, and too much seeps over to my corner of the garden.

If I had to immerse myself in a book about someone and their issues, it would only be a matter of time before I started exhibiting the same issues.

I am funny like that.

That being said, on Saturday I stopped at The Book Lounge in Roeland Street, primarily to get a gift for the lovely Julie Hall, but whilst there I decided to spend my children’s inheritance on books. For me.

This book titled: “The Mindful Way through Depression – Freeing yourself from Chronic Unhappiness” by Mark Williams, John Teasdale, Zindel, and Jon Kabat-Zimm jumped off the shelf at me.

I have no idea why, the cover looks like something from a really bad Jodi Picoult novel, and it is titled SELF HELP/PSYCHOLOGY – which would normally have me running for the hills – or at the very least rolling my eyes in sarcasm and prejudgement.

I picked the book up, parked my rather large rump on the leather couch and read a few pages. I did it with a slightly raised eyebrow as I was expecting the usual “decide to be happy and you will be” bullshit.

I am pessimistic that way, go figure.

The part where I knew I was hooked was the example mentioned on page 20

You are walking down a familiar street … You see someone you know on the other side of the street … You smile and wave. The person makes no response … just doesn’t seem to notice you … walks right past without any sign of recognizing your existence.

Question:

How does this make you feel?

What thoughts or images go through your head?

The example illustrates the ABC model of emotions. The A is the facts of the situation. B is the interpretation we give to the situation, while C is our reaction.

Logically one can work through this exercise and come up with the possibility that the person on the other side of the road was listening to his iphone and you could not see the earphones, and he did not see you. Or maybe he was really distracted as he was thinking about a fight with his wife earlier in that day, and did not hear me, or notice me.

That is logic. All of those are possibilities.

Me = immediate hot flush to my face, shoulders and chest and I start to feel this gnawing feeling that the person did not “not see me” he did. But he ignored me because I had slighted him or I had upset him, or I done something to offend him. But I had done something to upset/annoy/alienate him, and now he was angry at me. Why do I do this to people? What the hell is wrong with me?

{you can see I get totally lost in the interpretation of a situation, and tend to see the bubonic plague and the big bad wolf in everything}

Today is Monday night, and I still feel bad that the guy on the other side of the street did not acknowledge me.

Please let me bring you back to the fact that this did not happen to me, it was merely an example in an introduction of a book. But since Saturday I have been running through the ways I could have offended this person. This imaginary person. On a street I have never walked on. A greeting I never made, because it is fiction.

Crikey moses!! Does this give you some idea of how warped General Anxiety Disorder is and how really ‘out to lunch’ my thought process is?

I am going to sit here and sip my wine, and wonder whether my script can be filled yet, and whilst I wait think a bit more about the “guy on the other side of the street and what I have done to hurt his feelings…”

10 Comments

by reluctantmom on March 27, 2012 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged Anxiety, anxiety attack, Depression, General Anxiety Disorder

Posted by reluctantmom on March 27, 2012

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2012/03/27/the-mindful-way-through-depression/

Still gabbing on about the Chemist ….

I tend to have absolute faith in doctors and chemists. (dentists too actually….)

I like to see them as these infallible creatures who are able to dispense information, wisdom and good health. When I sit in the doctor’s chair, my brain leaves me, my IQ drops and I am a sponge to what ever they say. I am the patient, they are the miraculous healer!

I hand the responsibility of my health over to the person sitting on the other side of the desk, with an MD certificate. Doctors (and chemists) are almost godlike in my eyes – not to be questioned, to be thanked with a small, yet gracious, bow or curtsy.

Yesterday’s realisation that they are actually fallible, and make mistakes, unfortunately does shake the foundations of my belief system a bit.

Granted all I have to show is that I had three months of feeling “not quite right…” but it could have been worse.

I had the benefit of having a few months of intensive “psyche care” last year, so I knew that I had something to fall back on as things start to shake slightly off their center axis over here.

But, for someone else that situation might not have been that supportive. Their breaking point might have come earlier.

I don’t feel an overriding urge to go to my chemist and stand there and throw my toys. This does not take away from the fact that I feel angry that I have had to do this slide and this crumble, when in fact I did not have to go through this. I could have continued on my road to the “unicorns and zen gardens” but instead did a little detour through Hades.

I do feel I want to take my little tupperware dish and go and explain to him the situation, so possibly he uses this as a “ah hah” moment to take more care going forward.

The part that makes it difficult is that I start to think “I am sure this was my error….” or “Chemists are much too important to worry about my trivial little issue…” or “I am sure it is nothing, I will just leave it …..”

I know I should go to the Chemist and show him that he did muck up … but it makes me feel uncomfortable, and I start to feel guilty that somehoe this was my fault <>

For now I will take my “new” stuff and wait for the cracks and tears to heal up ….

6 Comments

by reluctantmom on February 24, 2012 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged Depression, Depression and Anxiety

Posted by reluctantmom on February 24, 2012

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2012/02/24/still-gabbing-on-about-the-chemist/

Crazy people need the right meds …. really

No secret that I have some challenges and I have a script. The script is meant to help me help myself, I guess.

I see a psychologist every week. We do cognitive behavioral therapy and we slowly work through the way I see the world.

It is all very well to have a quirky outlook on the world, but sometimes it helps to have someone assist you in how you process the information you have got coming in. Sometimes a chicken crossing a road, is not always just a chicken crossing the road. On the hand the chicken crossing the road is not a plot against you. It’s just a chicken crossing the road.

December was December. January seemed to start way too soon. Was up and running too fast. I have been feeling edgy, anxious and a bit “funny” and it has started to climb. I thought it was a December thing, then a January thing, but now I am wondering it if is February thing.

I started wondering if I am heading for another little “break” and I am not quite ready to go down the rabbit hole so soon, after coming back from the last little trip.

I knew I was not feeling great, I just did not know why. I was taking my meds. I was doing my therapy. I was doing the work.

I made an appointment with my Pill Doctor – first appointment I could get was for today (I booked this in January already.)

I keep my medication in a little tupperware dish. It keeps everything together, makes it easy to slip in to my bag, or to put in my cupboard away from the kids. Works well.

I take it with to doctor’s appointments, as if anyone asks, I can open it and say, I take two of these, one of these, and one of these.

They always ask, and I never know the names. Tupperware in bag a better idea that you think.

Today was no exception. Pill Doctor obviously knows my script, as he wrote it. But he started asking to find out whether I was experiencing side effects, and just to touch base on what I was on.

So I go: “I am taking one of these in the morning…”

Dr Pill Doctor: “That’s wrong, you should be taking three Zoloft, not one of the Serdep….”

Me: “When I received this from my chemist I thought it was wrong, so I called back and asked him, and he confirmed that he had given me the correct stuff and the correct dose. I even took the box back to him and asked again. He again said that it is correct at one a day of Serdep – I said the grammage did not seem right, but he said it was!”

Dr Pill Doctor: “I am sorry it is wrong, the script I gave and that you were on since June is Zoloft and three of them a day…. so you are on 1/3 of what you are normally on, and have been on since June last year ……”

Moer, I am annoyed/angry/pissed off.

Clearly a taking-your-meds-101 error!

I have been “struggling” since December, and kept wondering what the hang is going on here. I was desperate to get an appointment with Dr Pill Doctor as I thought maybe he could order a set of blood/hormone tests as clearly there was really something wrong.

Before June 2011 I felt like shit, after clinic and meds and August 2011, I was definitely feeling better. Things were stabilising and I felt like i was getting a better grip on what was going on.

November I saw Pill Doctor we agreed to keep script the same, took script to Chemist. Chemist said that I should swap the Zoloft for the Serdep. And that is where it went all a bit very wrong.

Chemist put me on to 50mg and I was on 150mg before. When I queried it he said that it was correct. But being me, who feels awkward to put my hand up and say “er, that is wrong…” telling my Chemist that I think he made an error, was not exactly easy. When he told me twice that he had not made an error, even though I still felt that something not quite right, but I decided that I am clearly wrong, so I nodded, went home, and took my pill.

The problem is that I have not been feeling “quite right.” My anxiety and stress has started to climb, and I have been looking around for what could possibly be the problem.

I have been convinced that “the slide” is starting again.

I find out today that my chemist is actually an idiot and cannot read a script. My Pill Doctor wrote the new script out and wrote on it in fairly legible copy DO NOT USE SUBSTITUTES!!

I am glad that my medication has been adjusted and hopefully in about 4 – 6 weeks I will start to feel a bit better, and get back on to the right road.

I am so chipped off that I have been feeling this amount of “breaking” for the last 4 – 6 weeks which has been totally unnecessary and could have gone horribly wrong.

I am so angry that when I said that something was not right, my chemist did not take the time to go back and recheck the script and what he had given me.

I am sure I will see the happy side soon.

17 Comments

by reluctantmom on February 23, 2012 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged Depression, Medication for Depression, Panic and Anxiety, Reluctant Mom

Posted by reluctantmom on February 23, 2012

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2012/02/23/crazy-people-need-the-right-meds-really/

Sometimes a picture says what you think …..

I really am a fan of blunt cards and the way they say exactly what I am thinking. In the most politically incorrect manner possible.

Before you start clicking your tongue in judgement and wondering whether you should compose a quick note to me drawing my attention to the joys of motherhood, and what I may missing, please don’t — really please don’t. Not this week.

I love my kids – I know at times with the amount of emotional vomitting I do, you are starting to wonder at which point do you actually call Child Services.

I have realised I just don’t enjoy being a mother all the time. The job is hard, it is thankless, it is monotonous, it does not pay particularly well, and it stretches your patience level more than your IQ level. I know we are all programmed to say how much we doggone love it, and that it is the best job in the world, but seriously I have no idea which spin doctor is selling that sh&t to us, and more importantly why we are eating it up.

I am having some concerns it is possibly men who would rather go to the office than clean shit of tiles, and also previously disgruntled moms who figured if they had a shit time of it, there is no way they are telling in the event you find a way to get out of it and rob them of the happiness of watching you have a nervous break down.

I have no idea how this conspiracy was started. But I appear to be as much of a “victim” as the rest of you chumps.

I know that I need to just keep my head down until it passes and I am all unicorns and fairy dust, until then, not so much. But that being said this Blunt Card so perfectly tells you what I want to say – or say as a whisper to myself 1/2 the day at the moment.

6 Comments

by reluctantmom on February 9, 2012 • Permalink

Posted in Motherhood Struggles - Imagined or otherwise

Tagged blunt cards, Depression, joys of motherhood, motherhood, motherhood rant, Reluctant Mom

Posted by reluctantmom on February 9, 2012

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2012/02/09/sometimes-a-picture-captures-a-moment-in-time/

It starts again ….

That creeping sensation that things are not quite as they should be.

The whispers of self-doubt.

The gnawing sensation that everyone is plotting against me.

The hiss that people are talking about me. Incessantly. Always in the negative.

The worry that I am doing something wrong. Everything wrong. About to be “caught out” for doing something wrong I have not even done. At all. Ever.

The sounds of whispers and innuendos and recrimination.

Small sounds reverberate in my eardrums as echos. My children’s chewing that sounds like the brass frkn band going off tune next to me.

The mental arguing and cross-questioning and “should I” or “what if…” and “maybe you need to go and fix that….”

Unfortunately it has all started again. It was so lovely when it was gone. It was so lovely.

It started as a quiet whisper in the darkness, but now it is turning into screaming in the day. It might just be because I am feeling exhausted. Tired to the bone.

Not ideal considering “yearly holidays” has just finished and I am in negative leave. I could climb in to bed, pull the covers over my head and sleep for a week.

On the upside it is not depression. Yip, fkn hooray for that. Talk about seeing the silver lining.

But it is the mania - the creeping sensation of the full-blown anxiety as it’s bleeding fingers start to linger around the edges - the exaggerated sense of anxiety - every nerve ending hot like a poker – at the same time my brain starts to shut down because it can’t deal with multiple stimuli.

Yesterday. True Story. I forgot how to fill the kettle with water. I was trying to make tea and coffee, and I knew I should fill the kettle, but I looked at the kettle and thought “fk how do I get water in there….” and the I opted to boil the kettle and hope there was enough to fill two cups.

By the time the water was boiled and I poured the water in to two cups, my brain went: “Hey the kettle comes of the thingy-me-bob, you just pick the kettle up and direct it at the tap thing …. and tah-dah….water in the kettle” But I could not work that out earlier.

When you cannot mentally work out how to fill the kettle with water, it is time to call in medical supervision or at the very least a priest and an intervention or exorcism going.

Fk!

5 Comments

by reluctantmom on January 10, 2012 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged Depression, generalised anxiety disorder, Living with a Black Dog of Depression

Posted by reluctantmom on January 10, 2012

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2012/01/10/it-starts-again/

Having my black dog at heel instead of pulling me along ….

Depression is somethings difficult to explain without it sounding …. a bit er ………. depressing.

It really is not the thing you can put a fun spin on,. I try to make light of it, but people inevitably look at you more strangely than they did before.

At that point I down the glass of wine I am drinking (real or imaginary), and then you change the conversation as you offer to fill their glasses with more wine (real or imaginary).

Claire sent this link to me, and it is really exactly how depression is.

Depression and it’s little friend Generalised Anxiety Disorder <I have a social and sensory-sensitivity thrown in> is a total jedi-mind-fk. It does not come with a cool light sabre and that heavy breathing guy in a slightly too big head mask.

Everyone tells you to “just be happy” or “snap out of it” or “you will get over it.” All I want to do is get the shovel out of the garage, and hit the person in the head. Then go and lie back on my bed, and stare into the vacant distanc, or close my eyes and wish for sleep to come.

Even when everyone is dancing around and so frkn happy, I sit there and smile and really I want to curl up in a ball somewhere, or at the least hold my breath until I pass out.

Social situations push me further than I want to go. But I seldom opt out of social things, as the remedy is not to sit in a room, and rock yourself to sleep, but the solution is to put my self into social situations and remind myself that “I can do this, I can do this ….”

I think most people who suffer from depression can win an Oscar for faking-happy. I tend to have to fake interest/happiness/contentment/mild interest when in reality I just want to somewhere and die.

To add to it, no one says {okay you are depressed, it’s okay that you do not feel the same as other people} so as a child/young teenager/young adult you decide that if everyone is smiling, what you need to do to fit in is to smile …. like a bit of a douche bag, as you really are just mimicking behaviour.

Seems the correct thing to do, right?

I have suffered/struggled/ignored depression for several years.

It just is. I can’t blame things. I am just made this way. I think there were contributing factors, but to be honest no matter how things had occurred, I probably would have ended up in the same place.

My happiest moments are often tainted because I am smiling, but in reality I am not happy at all. I knew I should be. The problem was that “should” never equalled actually “feeling happy.” I do try though. Gawd only knows I try. But it never seems quite enough. <Excuse me while I leave the room to self-flagelate.>

The last few years have had some okay years and some shocker years. 2011 has been a corker, and really no one deserves a shag-and-a-medal more than Kennith for his trouble this year. He has so stood there and taken it like standing up like no one’s business.

I am not writing this post, because I can click my heels together and screamed, I am cured. But right now, with my respite from the {hole that is depression} it is wonderful to see things in life’s full Technicolor … even if it is just for a little bit.

<…in the last two days, I have started to get this gnawing sensation, that things are starting to creep back … that the edges of my pages are starting to crumble … just that little bit …. it really terrifies me…>

Illustrations are from “I had a Black Dog” from the uber fabulous Matthew Johnstone – you can purchase his books through Kalahari (delivery free until the 30 November 2011).

3 Comments

by reluctantmom on November 29, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged anxiety disorder, Depression, generalised anxiety disorder, Going Insane, I had a Black Dog, Matthew Johnstone, Reluctant Mom, Social Phobia

Posted by reluctantmom on November 29, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/11/29/having-my-black-dog-on-heel-instead-of-pulling-me-along/

Mommy you are really looking happy ….

Yesterday when I fetched Connor from school, he said: “Mommy you are really looking happy.”

Me: ”Thanks for noticing my boy, I am feeling happy … but why do you say it?”

Connor: “You just look happy. I don’t know why. Are you happy about something?”

Me: ”No my boy, I am feeling happy that is all, nothing really, just feeling happy.”

And that really is it. <<I can’t tell you how thrilled I was that he noticed…>>

I am not better, but I am on the mend.

My head is less filled with the negative/kill myself/kill all of you/oh my gawd I am being targeted thinking.

My head is actually quiet. I do realise it sounds a bit “insane” to say “the voices in my head are quiet.” But they are. This constant internalised conversations that go on and on … all day … all night are quiet.

I can just sit. And sit. In silence. Because there is no noise in my head.

I feel remarkably happy. Not “skip and sing the sound of music” happy, but definitely lighter, more free, and my head is just not as busy as it was before.

I sit and I smile. Just because I do.

I feel a definite sense of creativity.

There are little projects that I have started, and feel motivated to do. I sit in my garden on the old wooden chair, I dusted off and positioned amongst the lavender. I listen to the bees buzzing, I sip my wine, I feel the coolness of the glass in my hand, and I just feel a sense of calm. Of peace. Of silence. Of not internally screaming.

I am not sure whether it is working with Dr CBT, the medication, Dr Pill-Pusher, the fact that I am sleeping, or the time that I hid away from life in the clinic.

I have no idea what to attribute it to.

I feel a sense of happiness. A genuine happiness that I have not felt in what feels like forever. I smile when I see my children and I see Kennith, just because they make my glad inside.

It’s a nice feeling.

It is also a strange feeling I don’t know what to do with it. I just sit with it right now. And smile a bit.

<stay away black dog, for fuck sake say away, you are not wanted here!!!>

12 Comments

by reluctantmom on November 18, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged anxiety disorder, Depression, Going Insane, Happy Family, Living with a Black Dog, Living with a Black Dog of Depression

Posted by reluctantmom on November 18, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/11/18/mommy-you-are-really-looking-happy/

Sun on my face, wine in my glass …..

In my little journey of ying meets yang, and get a clue, I had a moment yesterday.

The kids were eating dinner, I poured myself a glass of wine, and went to sit in my back yard.

I need to explain that my backyard, is about the size of a large postage stamp. It has been the bane of my life since we moved in to our house.

I hate gardening and I hate attempting to be good at it. The backyard quickly turned into a wind-blown, sandy and really annoying area. Just ugly.

I am fine to shut the backdoor and not give it a second thought, but our house/property is built on levels, with the result that the kitchen looks directly into the backyard – it’s almost on eye level. So I was assaulted by ugly all the time.

Nearly every day – either whilst putting the kettle on or off, I would grit my teeth and it irritated the crap out of me, to stare into this sand trap and then I would get angry.

Then Alice introduced to me to Roderick. And my life changed.

Roderick is fabulous. Roderick appears to know loads about gardens and plants.

His most significant skill is his ability to remain amiable when a husband and wife are giving him totally contradicting instructions. He handles this with such grace, he makes me snort.

Anyway. I blew my children’s education on lavender, jasmine, thyme, rosemary and petunias and Roderick has kindly planted them for me.

He helped plant some tomatoe plants (which I am not convinced are weeds that we have lovingly tied to thin sticks, as these plants do not smell anything like tomatoe plants, and more importantly have not sprouted one frkn tomato yet!) and he comes and lovingly assists the garden to see that it is quietly ticking over.

He reminds me when to get compost, or worm poison, or which plants I need to replant.

He makes cuttings of existing plants and plants areas I had not even known exist. He created a fabulous garden in an area I thought was “dead area” that now has rosemary, petunias and some other stuff that smells great, but I have no idea what it is.

He has stopped rolling his eyes every time I explain I have bought more plants, and then he arrives and the plants are all “lavender.”

He appears to understand my little lavender fetish. Or doesn’t and prefers not to judge me any more.

My back garden has become my secret garden. Though it is hardly a secret. But it has rapidly become my happy place.

My makes- me-mile place. I love sitting there.

Yesterday I sat on the step, and surveyed my stamp sized garden, wine glass in hand.

I smelt the smell of lavender, and the sweet smell of jasmine. I sat there with the late afternoon sun on my face.

I heard the birds singing. I was just still. I was there.

Here is the part that was incredible. The noise/internal conversation/the constant heckling inside my head was quiet. It had been for a few days, I just had not noticed until that moment.

I could hear the birds, and I was not scheming/self-flagellation/future worst case scenario dissecting/constant dialogue about what I had said/done/felt/thought …… all of it was quiet.

I can’t explain it really well, without making me sound a bit like Jack from the Shining. The value of just having quiet in my head and my thoughts, which are not negative or self-hatred.

It was a lovely moment …..and I really love my little garden.

7 Comments

by reluctantmom on November 3, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in Depression

Tagged anxiety disorder, Depression, generalised anxiety disorder, panic disorder, social anxiety

Posted by reluctantmom on November 3, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/11/03/sun-on-my-face-wine-in-my-glass/

Somedays I wish I could sort out all the sh*t on my 12 things list ……

I struggle with life a bit. Who am I kidding? I struggle with life a lot.

And this year has been a bit epic for me. So many things did not go as planned, so many things got totally out of control. Mainly in my head. Then in my life.

I seem to have got a handle on my obsessive compulsive stroke panic and anxiety stuff - which had totally overtaken my life this year.

Can you say freak out?

I can’t say whether it was an “attack” or a series of “attacks” or an “episode.” It has been pretty hellish. Like a roller coaster, but without the aid of tracks and a seat belt.

Either way it left me shattered and clinging on to reality though clenched teeth, and bleeding finger nails.

Now? I am not best, but I am better than I was. My grasp is tentative at best, but I really do feel as if I am at least aiming in the right direction.

I am seeing a psychologist who specialises in cognitive behavioural therapy. I also see a psychiatrist who keeps me medicated up to my gills. I believe this will reduce as my coping mechanism kicks in.

CBT is really hard work.

It is much easier to lie on the couch and blame my mother and life, but CBT really holds a mirror/magnifying glass up to your stuff and makes you questions every aspect.

It doesn’t deal with the “past” it deals with “today” and what you are doing “today” and how you can alter your thought processes about “today.”

It is not a quick fix. It is not as simplem as I am suggesting here. Dr CBT is pretty good, and I try to see him every week.

The longer the gaps between my visits, the further I notice I drift off into the abyss. Yes, a somewhat co-dependant relationship if there ever was one.

It is a bit alarming as you drill down to the root cause of stuff, and sometimes you realise, that actually you are a bit sad and stupid, when you sort of thought you were a bit awesome.

There are many things I need to let go or change – and these are some of them:

1. Internet and Social Media Dependence. I have spent much too much time trying to find validation in cyberspace, when in reality, I need to find it with me first before I can even think of standing in cyberspace. I have been the instigator, and in some cases the victim of so much crap. It makes me all shaky and sweaty just thinking about it. Having bad judgement and trying to operate in cyber space has not been a great combination. <palm slap with hand>. Right now I am pretty much off most/all social media, and lurk around only really on my blog.

2. It is not always my responsibility. I can live life without it being “if I do not do it, no one will” mentality or “it happened because I did or did not do something”. So what if no one does it? So what if you stand back and let it happen? So what? Leave it. It is not always your problem to fix it. You cannot fix the world. Right now you are stuggling to button your shirt, leave the world’s probelms to someone else.

3. I am not as important as I think I am. When I walk in to a room, people do not actually stop what they are doing and look at me and make a judgement. Really I am not that important to them. No one gives a shit. Even those who do make a judgement – really does it matter, and really in a group how many people are there that truly judge you negatively? And how many people think about the stuff I do or say as much as I think they do. Trust me, hardly anyone. No one gives a fig. Except you.

4. Name the emotion and deal with it individually. I paint my fears with a big brush. I paint all my crap with a big brush. Much easier to have a blanket description and then sit and tremble in the corner. I can’t do that because it makes me feel anxious. I don’t want do that because I am afraid. Does it really make you feel anxious only, or are there other emotions there? Well, actually yes, I am nervous, I am a bit anxious, I am scared and I am afraid. Okay, so that is four different emotions, let’s work through each of those instead of thinking that it is all anxiety. Makes it easier if you break something down to work through it. See what each emotion is about, and deal with it. A bit like eating an elephant ……

5. Stop putting pressure on yourself to always feel a certain way. I feel I am meant to always enjoy being with my children. So when I am with them, and I am not enjoying it, then I feel guilty and I start a bit of self-flagellation because I should love it. And that is pretty much the cycle for a lot of things. I need to stop telling myself I “should feel anything” and just feel it as it is, and accept it. Not just about my kids, about so many aspects of my life. Stop dictating to yourself you are meant to be or feel a certain way. Who decides this? Why are you dictating to yourself. Stop!

6. You cannot change anyone, so deal with it. It drive me crazy when so-and-so does such-and-such. It drives me totally off my rocker. Ask yourself, can you change them? Generally the answer is no. If they do it all the time, then accept that it is the way they do things. Having a shit fit every time, is only making you more insane. Does it really matter that so-and-so does such-and-such? Really? Like in the bigger scheme of things? Probably not so much. Well, then do not get so worked up by it, as you cannot change it and you have no influence.

7. If you don’t like something or don’t want to do something, why do you force yourself to do it? Well that one is sort of self-explanatory.

8. What is the worst that can happen? Really if you say something and someone feels bad, can you control how they feel or what they think? No, so why constantly bereit yourself. So what if it happens that way, so what? Is it really that bad? No. Do you consciously set out to hurt people? No. Can you control what people feel or think? No. Then stop sitting there taking responsibility for it.

9. Spend more time in the present and less time in the “what if it does happen” future and “oh god it happened like this last time, I am sure it will happen like this now” past. Just BE. Just BE. You are missing out on so much running around in your head. Sit in the sun, sip your wine, smell the lavendar. That is all. Feel the sun on your face.

10. Stop having this insane dialogue with yourself over every possible issue. It’s done. It’s over. You do not have to relive the conversation over and over again and persecute yourself. You can’t go back. You can’t do it differently.

11. Why judge yourself in the worse possible light? You cannot actually be as sh*t as you think you are. Really, you can’t. More people like you and more people understand you than you think. Stop being so harsh on yourself.

12. Just let life live. Don’t plan so much. Don’t run it over and over in your head so much. Stop with the fkn lists. Don’t try to predict so much. Don’t try to work in every possible eventuality. It’s life, it happens, and then you adjust. It just is.

13. Drink less wi…….. actually no, stop at 12. 13 is such an unlucky number.

8 Comments

by reluctantmom on October 27, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in Depression, Therapy and Therapists

Tagged anxiety disorder, cognitive beharioural therapy, Depression, Going Insane, Going Mad, Therapy

Posted by reluctantmom on October 27, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/10/27/somedays-i-wish-i-could-sort-out-all-the-sht-on-my-12-things-list/

So how are you? And other polite conversations …..

As is customary, most people start a conversation with how are you.

The problem is I battle to reply in the customary: “I am fine, how are you?”

I am not “fine” so tend to say: “I am okay, not great, but okay. Better than I was a month or two ago….. but okay.”

And then the person looks awkward, and I shuffle my feet. And then I drawl “Any the wayyyyy ….. ” to sort of act as an ice-breaker.

Never works. But I repeat this action none the less.

I am still seeing my psychologist guy. I am not making a great deal of progress. I start these things with such gusto, and then I realise that they are so much work, and then my shine reduces slightly. And I slump on the couch a bit more.

At the moment I feel part of things, but not. I do not seem to have the resources to take part whole heartedly in anything. At the moment breathing; going to work, attempting to appear vaguely “normal” takes all my energy.

So I feel pretty much like the “third person” to my life at the moment.

Not ideal. No, sadly not.

My medication is probably not “quite right” but I am also reluctant to mess around with them right now. There is just too much going on, and I do not want to atttempt and adjustment right now.

My physical symtoms include: a little shake (of my hands) that gets worse as the day progresses; I yawn so much that my jaw gets sore; I am not “lie on the bed and sleep” tired, but I just cannot stop yawning and feeling fatigued; I feel like I am over there, but the other me is over here, so it is a bit disorientating.

I take some stuff to make me go to sleep at night. I take some stuff to keep me asleep at night. Works well.

The problem is if our house got hit with a tornado, I would go quietly in my sleep.

Kennith has been less happy with the fact that if the kids wake up, I am so dead to the world, that he always has to deal with it. I think he is also concerned that in the event of a fire, he will be carrying three children, and a semi-conscious wife out the door.

My appetite has gone for a bit of a ball. I am seriously just not that interested in food.

I do love food though. I am even partial to a bit of McDonalds which is actually the perfect meal. By the time my brain has clicked that I am eating, the meal is finished.

So pretty much it is over before my brain can tell me that it is does not want food. Works well. Or doesn’t.

Any the wayyyyy (see how that works) …….. so it is not all great, but it is okay. Kennith is presently winning awards for “the most patient and enduring spouse.”

The mania of extreme panic and anxiety has passed — to a large degree (and I use the term mania very loosely as I am not manic).

I am still a bit wired, so I find when I do something that requires concentration for any length of time, I walk away feeling very frazzled and more shaky.

The small things are not as overwhelming as they were.

I spend less time doubting myself, and in obsessive destructive behaviour or thought processes.

I spend a bunch less time on the internet.

I am still avoiding a lot of the forums and blogs I used to troll. I don’t have the energy to take on other people’s issues, and also the “urge” to interact much. So I have missed where everyone is and what everyone is doing.

I sleep at night.

Earlier this morning my friend Judith asked me: “Are you back in the saddle?”

I replied: “Well I am in the saddle, but the horse appears to have fled …. So I am sort of kicking my heels in the dust going giddy-up ….. fake it til you make it they say!”

And that is pretty much how it is with me.

So how are you?

17 Comments

by reluctantmom on October 6, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in Depression, Therapy and Therapists

Tagged anxiety disorder, cognitive beharioural therapy, Depression, Going Insane, Going Mad

Posted by reluctantmom on October 6, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/10/06/so-how-are-you-and-other-polite-conversations/

Hello ….. my name is Reluctant Mom and I am an internet addict …….

So, one of my issues (several) is that I have started slipping further into cyberspace and further out of reality.

I began to dodge real-life things so that I could spend more time on-line in blogs and on forums, and just cruising around the net.

I got really irritated with the kids because if they would just stop demanding time from me I could herd them into their beds, and spend more time on-line in blogs and on forums.

It became extremely important how people in cyberworld viewed me. CRITICALLY IMPORTANT IN FACT.

Their comments lifted me up as well as smacked me down. If I did not get recognition for it in cyberspace then it did not matter.

I would read, re-read, and re-read my comments to ensure that it sounded right in my head. It was not unusual for me to read one of my comments 12 – 18 times before pushing send/reply/publish and often changing it several times over.

Each time I read it, I would read a more critical tone into the wording. I would read the way other people would hear (read) and then I would pre-judge myself (before they did)

Any comment made or given in reply was fraught with angst. I always read the worst in to what anyone said to me or about me, or as a comment to me.

I would push the refresh button constantly on the look out for the response. I literally would hang on waiting and waiting for the response. As much as I dreaded a critical word, I would hang and wait for it.

I would be devastated when my comment would hang there in cyberspace without a reply comment. My worst feeling was being the last person to comment on a thread. I felt like I was Jane-no-mates and had killed the conversation when mine was the last comment.

This of course fed into my sense of “rejection” and “I did not matter to anyone.”

Real life and cyber life started blurring around the edges. I felt that real life was a bit too tricky to remain present in, so the blur of cyberlife became much more appealing and much easier to navigate.

In cyberworld I did not feel as awkward as I did in real life.

In cyberworld I did not feel as self-conscious as I did in real life.

In cyberworld I did not fret over my every word and action as I did in real life.

In cyberworld I did not feel so unpopular and such a misfit as I did in real life.

I felt I was knowledgeable, liked and respected in cyberlife, while in real life I was everything but.

I did not think people had ulterior motives as I felt they did in real life.

Until I did.

Sooner or later, unfortunately I followed me where ever I was.

Sooner or later, I started to feel as awkward, as self-conscious, as guilt laced, and wracked with self-doubt on blogs and on forums.

Every word uttered by everyone was judged according to what I thought of myself. It was always seen as judgemental/critical and pessimistic, no matter how “jolly” or “supportive” the writer tried to be.

Fortunately I am not a gamer or a gambler. I have no real interest in throwing large sums of hard-earned money at an imaginary world where I buy cyber-cool brands and furnish my cyber-home and purchase a cow.

I am just not that into that side of it. Fortunately.

But I will admit that my fixation on blogs and forums and Facebook and googling-random-things did get totally away with me. It became all-consuming and I totally allowed it to get away from/with me.

It allowed me to hide further away from some of my real issues. At the same time it fed into my irrational feelings and judgement about myself, and escalated the negative light in which I see myself (and several others around me.)

In short, it skewed my perception of reality.

I really missed my blog, so I have cautiously started lurking around here a bit.

I do miss several other blogs and forums that I used to read/follow religiously. Right now I just needs a bit of time to “get my shit together” before I start lurking through other people’s lives.

I apologise if I have not been by to visit. Please do not take it as a personal insult or slight on you. Right now I just need a bit of space to find myself, or at the very least not loath myself.

But onwards and upwards. Right?

17 Comments

by reluctantmom on September 21, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in Blogs and Forums, Therapy and Therapists

Tagged anxiety disorder, Depression, forum addict, forums and blogs, Going Insane, Guilt, internet addict, Moms who Blog, Worry

Posted by reluctantmom on September 21, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/09/21/hello-my-name-is-reluctant-mom-and-i-am-an-internet-addict/

Formaldehyde and other musings ….

I have recently returned from my “running away from home” episode.

Granted I did not actually leave my suburb for my medical care, so really it was not running particularly far. And to be blatantly honest Kennith dropped me off. So it was more ”being dropped off” than “running away.”

It was a bit surreal to be “around the corner” from where the rest of my life appeared to be carrying on, but with me no longer in the starring role.

Several people have asked “How have the kids been?”

Thank you for enquiring.

As much as I would love to beat my chest and milk this for all it’s worth, they have been pretty much “unscathed” “unawares” “un-rattled” by my absence.

This of course does raise all sorts of questions regarding my importance Iin my children’s lives.

Considering I was away for nearly three weeks and got a cursory “Hey mom, are you sleeping over at the house tonight?” on my return did sort of burn.

It does make me suspicious that the “apron strings” are possibly not as secure or absolute as I initially thought.

I would like to congratulate Kennith and I on having well-balanced and secure children who are able to function even if mom is “unforeseeably detained.” This may bode well as we suggest boarding school in the not too distant future, and longer holidays away from home sans children.

That is what I am taking from this experience at any rate.

I am on a fair supply of medication and combined with a very dutiful psychiatrist and psychologist I seem to be making some headway.

I am not sure in which direction, but I leave that to people I pay at an exhorbitant hourly rate to think about on my behalf.

I am gauging I am making some progress by their faint smiles and slight inclinations of their heads. I do jump to far too many conclusions which are always rather pessimistic and somewhat fatalist in nature, and often cause me undue stress.

Adding it to my “to do list” of things to work on.

On another matter …

Connor brought a dead snake home after a play date. I am not sure of this new custom, but I plan to be giving small dead animals to all the little boys who come over and play at my house from this point moving forward.

Driving yesterday Kennith asks me “How can we preserve a dead snake?”

Why I should know this piece of information say versus him, was not clear. But having a uterus and a quick wit, and I suggested formaldehyde.

The go-to-chemical for most things I would presume if it is somehow connected to death and lifeless children’s playthings.

Kennith tut-tutted me and said he was sure paraffin or thinners would work equally well. I rolled my eyes and looked out the window.

Kennith is a bit of a bargain hunter. If the “real” stuff is R25.00, he will find a way to use a R5.00 stuff and get the value out of it. Or better, purchase the R25.00 stuff and bargain the seller down to R5.00 and get
him to throw in a boerewors roll.

This principle cannot be applied to shoes, for which Kennith has an Imelda-Marcos-obsession.

No price is high a price for shoes that look practically identical to me, to the other few dozen/hundred he has already in his wardrobe.

Every time he comes home lovingly fondling a pair, trying to explain to me why this style is technically more advanced than the other 200 he has, I tend to glaze over.

But back to the dead snake.

I think Kennith googled and it seems formaldehyde is just the thing (the only chemical suitable) to preserve the dignity of a dead snake.

Interesting fact – chemists do stock it, but you need to pre-order it and it takes 2 – 3 weeks.

In the event that you want to preserve dear old gran, just remember to pre-order sufficient formaldehyde else you will be in for a nasty supply problem, and risk a smelly old person in your lounge.

Regarding the snake, I suggested I did not think it was a good idea to keep a dead snake, in a glass jar, in formaldehyde in our house, with a two-year old, who already unscrews things and regularly drinks my contact lense solution.

But I was vetoed. And we drove to a 24 hour chemist.

Fortunately the gods of the chemist were on my side, and they did not hold formaldehyde in stock, though were happy to order it. Strange much?

Hopefully by tonight the dead snake is either in our large dustbin or given a pauper’s funeral in our back garden.

But I am sort of back from the dead.

I am still very out of step with “real life” and trying to acclimatize to appear normal.

One day at a time. Right?

9 Comments

by reluctantmom on September 20, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in Depression, Family Stuff & Things, Therapy and Therapists

Tagged anxiety disorder, Depression, formaldehyde, One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest

Posted by reluctantmom on September 20, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/09/20/formaldehyde-and-other-musings/

Casual Day 2nd September 2011 – Remember!

For the first time ever SADAG (SA Depression and Anxiety Disorder Group) is participating in Casual Day in South Africa which runs on the 2 September nation-wide.

Aren’t you glad you have me reminding you of this stuff?

Companies are encouraged to let their staff wear whatever fancy and weird clothing they want to that day. The cost is R10 per person. Many companies pay for their whole staff to participate or pay 50% towards it.

The stickers are available from SADAG and allow you to come to work dressed as a cat, in pyjamas, a golfing outfit, whatever is fun for you.

The funds from this day go towards SADAG and other NGO’s for people with disabilities. Give your support or encourage your Boss, your University your Radio Station to let the whole company participate.

Click Here for more details.

I am a bit concerned/baffled/have a crease in my forehead, that depression and anxiety are batched in with disabilities ….. but we can work through my inability to process this another day……

I really liked this advertisement I saw …these guys to a great job behind the scenes, and of course need funds like any other organisation.

Go buy a sticker!! Plan your wardrobe tomorrow!!

5 Comments

by reluctantmom on September 1, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in Stuff I See

Tagged anxiety disorder, Anxiety Group, Depression, Depression and Anxiety Group, SA Depression and Anxiety Group, Stuff I see

Posted by reluctantmom on September 1, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/09/01/casual-day-2nd-september-2011-remember/

Monday mutterings ….

Kennith and I acquired a car that definitely screams “Your Sexy is Never Coming Back!”

We officially look like a family of plumbers or electricians.

The issue being we wanted 7 seats and a boot. Not two kids in the boot. Which appears to be the default design for most “big family” cars.

Problem with some of the bigger cars/soccer mom vans was they did not fit into our garage.

Crazy people who built our house, ignoring things like standard garage size and good paint.

We test drove a white VW Caddy. Decided that even though it did not drive us wild with excitement. It did appear to be very practical, and loosely within our price range.

We then explained to the friendly car salesman that we were interested in the car, but could we have it in silver.

The answer was yes, but we had to wait four months. Kennith and I cannot feasibly juggle our lives and one car.

There was an alternate to the white one. It was brown.

I realised my mental capabilities are flawed at the moment.

But seriously.

It must have been a very bad day at the VW Caddy factory when they decided that “brown” was a great colour for a car.

Brown is super for chocolate and some furniture. I have seen pants and shoes that brown works for. Tree bark is totally rocking in brown. Baby poo is better in brown, than say green.

But not for cars.

I am not sure there EVER is a time when brown is a great colour for a car. I might be wrong. Maybe I have just never seen the right shade of brown on a car.

Maybe.

We are now the proud owners of a “very hot and happening” VW Caddy. Please keep an eye out at your next robot. Or call us on our new 0800 number. We also do paving.

On another non-related story …

Wednesday I popped down to the psychiatrist for a little “how are those meds going?” visit.

The short answer was “not well.”

Things are definitely very out of control. In my head. Not on the planet in general. Though they could be.

I suggested we stop pea-shooting the charging rhino and bring out the big guns. A bazooka or an uzzi is sort of where I am pitching this. I am about done with the “wait and see” subtle approach.

Let’s get it on like Donkey Kong!

Right?

We have brought out the big guns. They include several boxes from the pharmacist.

I would love to say they are working a treat. I really would.

They have however left me shaking and mumbling under my breath, and well feeling pretty crappy all around. I must confess that sleep is no longer a problem.

So far Kennith has made me about 6 cups of tea that I never drank. He offers. I say yes. He walks to the kitchen. By the time he gets back I am mimicking a light coma.

If you challenged me in rock-paper-scissors I would get it wrong right now. I might pull out wig-wam.

Wig-wam does not beat anything.

On the upside I am definitely less panicked. Still anxious. But less panicked. Not a total win-win situation, as I have gained have several other interesting side effects which we can chat about on another post (None of them include anal leakage – have you noticed how the insert on drugs always refers to anal leakage at least once occurring in one of the control groups?).

On Friday afternoon I called my pdoc (Pdoc is short for psychiatrist. Tdoc is short of psychologist. True story.) and explained my symptoms. I really was not feeling great. Grim might be an accurate assessment.

He suggested I keep on with the meds, and I have had a bad reaction. Maybe Monday or Tuesday I would see a shift in the right direction as my body (read brain) settled down.

I explained to him that I am not a suicidal person. But Friday morning had me working out a plan. Like jotting it on the side of my box of anti-depressant type of plan.

Even I could see this was not a healthy direction. For anyone.

He suggested I wait it out. And not to worry as I was not alone.

He is off until the 12 September on holiday. Ironic?

I wished him a good holiday. And hung up. I decided a lie down and a cup of tea, was not my worst idea. I redrafted my plan on my brown box.

Let’s see how Monday and Tuesday fare.

Overall. Me = Not Great.

13 Comments

by reluctantmom on August 22, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in Depression, Therapy and Therapists

Tagged anxiety disorder, Depression, Retail Therapy, Three Children, Worry

Posted by reluctantmom on August 22, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/08/22/monday-mutterings/

Dude, seriously who stole my car keys?

I am starting to wonder/believe that maybe we create our own karma.

I refused to read The Secrets and now instead of opening myself up and attracting all the positive energy in the universe, I appear to be attracting goats and trolls.

We can philosophise another day how we create our own fate and if you send out negative thoughts, negative things will happen to you.

Listen Karma – I am depressed, I only have negative thoughts! If you can get the fkn happy fairies to come over and sprinkle happy dust on me, I will take a bit of that.

I will even snort it or put it in a vein or consider a suppository if you think that will work better and faster.

Today was yet another classic day in “the fk up that is my week.”

Busy day. I had to get two kids to a party – separate parties, in different places at the same time. I had a shoot to do this afternoon, and I really was not feeling the happiness and the enthusiasm one needs to be able to carry this off.

It also meant I had to interact with people and there would be a house full of people I do not know. Loud kids screaming and me feeling anxious and panicky. Can anyway say trigger?

I was not going to cancel, but felt quite reluctant to face it this afternoon.

I woke up – and tackled the day, because I am a bloody trooper – and because my kids wake up at 6am on a Saturday, no matter what time you put them to sleep.

I started to sense the day might not go to plan when Connor started using the blanket I was trying to cover myself with, as I sipped my first cup of tea, as a fishing net.

He took it off me and was trying to throw it across the bed to mimic the action of a fisherman casting a net. (This is while Isabelle and Georgia were fighting over a Winnie the Pooh book that neither of them have shown an interest in since ….. birth!)

I suggest to Connor that really, mommy has not had her Xanax and Zoloft yet, so maybe take this “fishing net” malarky somewhere else. (I can totally get on board with play acting fishing nets. I am such a cool mom I can roll with almost anything. But the blanket was meant to be covering me and keeping me warm. Instead I am getting gusts of ice cold air everytime the “net was cast” and the corner either flicked me in the eye or knocked my tea mug. Just not Ayoba no matter how you look at it.)

He nods at me in understanding and does it next to my bed (instead of over the bed). Throwing the blanket that WAS covering me as a fishing net to show he can “cast a net!”

I am wondering why I do not walk around with an intravenous drip of Chenin Planc. I really do not know. My own will power astounds me most days.

I swear to the universe, I am in a series of Fawlty Towers and I am officially the Spanish waiter Manuel standing around going: “Iz thiz yur bal, keh?”

Anyway.

Got Connor off to the party he was going to.

Got Georgia to her one. Granted Georgia wanted to dress in her ballet outfit. It was like minus 10. I eventually gave up and let her wear what ever the hell she wanted – I did insist she wore her pink flower gumboots, as I thought it made the outfit totally rock!!

I really am past fighting with Georgia. Really! Right now I am doing the “path of least resistance…”

I drop Georgia off at her party – which is such a fabulous little party. Her BFF Cara was turning 6. Her mom had invited 6 kids (or there abouts) and instead catered for the mommies and the almost single dad.

10am and I was served champagne and little eats. I was not going to stay, really I was going to drop and run.

Then I met Dorothy and Andrew and I probably had the most interesting conversation that I have ever had a kid’s birthday party. It felt like a cool adult party with interesting people. I could have laid down on the couch and totally abused Cara’s mom’s hospitality all day.

But I needed to run.

I had arranged to fetch them at about 13h30 as I knew I was going to be running late.

I do what I need to do at home – then I think okay, I have 20 minutes to drink some tea and I will read a chapter of my book and fly out again.

I do that.

But I fall asleep – like coma asleep.

I get woken by the father who is hosting the party Connor is at saying: “erm, when will you be fetching your kid EXACTLY!” (when he actually means “why the fk have you not fetched your child, we are sick to death of kids, and the fact that yours has hung around for an hour longer than the invite stipulated is actually rude and really annoying, but thanks for the great book you bought my son, it was fabulous and beautifully wrapped!)

I rush out like a lunatic.

I forget all Georgia’s sleep over stuff at home.

Fetch Connor, realise sh*t I have to go back home to fetch all Georgia’s stuff.

Fetch Georgia’s stuff, grab Georgia, throw them in the car to high tail it to my sister-in-law as I need to get to the shoot by 15h00 and it is already 14h30. Georgia is sleeping over there and Connor is going to “visit” (read lie on the couch and play his Nintendo game) until I have finished at the shoot.

Connor drops the birthday cake that he was given on the car floor. Georgia is talking about …. gawd I do not know. Connor is screaming for a tissue and acting like the “cake on the floor” is attacking his foot.

It is cake, guy, seriously calm the hang down already!

I am desperately in a rush – and keep looking at the “please fill me up with petrol light” which has stopped flashing and now just sits there wanly in red.

I am driving – but still trying to maintain the speed limit. I am highly stressed (you think?)

Drop Connor and Georgia off at SIL – Georgia is going to sleep over. I will fetch Connor after the shoot and him and I can go and have a quick dinner and do valuable mom-and-son bonding time.

(Isabelle by the way is asleep and Fortunate is babysitting, in the event you were wondering where child number 3 was in this plot.)

Throw kids out of car at SIL. Drive like a maniac to shoot address.

Realise I have forgotten my diary at home! Fkn hell – I recall the address but not the house number. I drive with growing anxiety still staring at the “little red light of petrol” and I get a small dose of good karma as birthday party people have put balloons outside their house.

Fan.frnk.tastic. Found house. Whoop-whoop things are finally going my way.

I throw myself out of the car and run in to the house looking like a rabid dog who desperately needs a vet visit, and a shot of what ever puts a family dog to sleep humanely.

It was truly a lovely party. It was a boy’s first birthday and I have never ever seen a party with this much effort put in to it.

The family was there and I think there were 60 – 80 adults. The nicest people I have probably ever met. I had so much fun, and their happiness actually rubbed off on me. Really really lovely people.

Anyway, shoot-shoot-shoot, good day, okay 17h30 I need to go.

I start to look for my car keys.

I start to frantically scratch for my car keys.

I start to throw the contents of my bag out on the lounge floor while astonished guests look on.

Party comes to a stop while everyone helps me look for my car keys.

I cannot find car keys. No idea, they could be stolen …. I could have sold them for CRACK I don’t know …. I just do not have keys for my car. Car outside their house. Connor in Durbanville. My house somewhere else.

Please mommy can I go home now. (that is what the voices are saying in my head at this point)

Total Fail.

Eventually the only option is that one of them give me a lift home.

I am slightly/very embarrassed as instead of slipping out quietly like a professional service provider, the last hour was all about me and everyone finding my keys. They were even lifting up the jumping castle as options.

I get dropped off at home.

I have now spent 2 – 3 hours searching for my spare set.

I either do not have a spare set OR I was not listening when Kennith told me where they are OR I have no idea where they are OR They are in the safe, which Kennith has a key to.

Have I mentioned Kennith is in Utah?

I find out that VW will charge me R3000.00 for one key – but I need to get the car to them. Which is tricky considering it is in Kraaifontein and my keys are on planet fuck-knows-where!

I could not get Connor home so he has had to sleep over. He has no sleep over stuff, and I was really looking forward to an hour of just him and I time.

I have torn this house apart looking for my spare key. Without success. I did however find an unopened box of Nuzak (which I accussed the pharmacist of not giving me … whoops my bad, and some Cataflam, and a flash drive I thought I had lost.

But zip on the car key front. My car is still in Kraaifontein. I have I mentioned Kennith is away and he wrote his car off on Monday?

Public Service Announcement: Go and find your spare car keys NOW. Put them in your underwear drawer at the back – now you will know where they are, no matter what happens. Tell your partner/husband/wife/neighbour/sane person that is where you keep your spare set of car keys in the event you have an epic day and can’t find them. I already checked my underwear drawer twice, it is not there.

9 Comments

by reluctantmom on August 7, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in Children's Parties, Out with the Kids

Tagged anxiety disorder, Depression, Going Insane, Going Mad, Kids Parties

Posted by reluctantmom on August 7, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/08/07/dude-seriously-who-stole-my-car-keys/

I love Epic Fail Moments … and I seem to be doing them regularly ….

Okay so what do we know about me.

1. I have three kids, I am not your run of the mill mom.

2. I work, and I work because I enjoy it and to remain sane – I do not think I could be a stay at home mom.

3. I suffer from chronic depression, anxiety and panic disorder, possibly with a light touch of OCD or even Tourette’s thrown in for good measure. I also have a social phobia – and added to that a touch of what you could call sensory sensitivity i.e. too much sound, light, noise, touch sets off a few triggers.

4. I am scary honest even when I do not want to be.

5. I drink way too much tea and wine.

6. I would walk a mile for a bag of Chuckles. (I am lying, I might walk to the end of my drive way, but it is still a very far way).

7. I abhor smiley face icons.

Great so we know that. Nothing new there. Just checking we are all on the same page.

I really do not mind who reads my blog.

Really.

Okay, I prefer it if my mom did not read my blog. But anyone else, be my guest. It is a public forum, knock yourself out.

I get countless emails and messages from “moms who struggle” to say thanks for saying what they think and feel, and for saying it out loud. I blog because it makes me feel a bit more “normal” each day – but it is nice to not be the only person who “struggles” with stuff.

I have commented that I enjoy my job, and the people are great, and blah blah blah pancakes.

But the physical closeness of people and the amount of noise has had me making regular visits to a psychiatrist and a psychologist and basically had me shut up at home because I am “afraid” of being at work.

Slightly career limiting move …. you think?

Because it is setting off panic and anxiety attacks, I can only spend so long crying in the toilets, before people start wondering if I have a bowel problem or a urinary tract infection that needs to be addressed.

Recently there was an office shift and a staff member got moved next to me. She is lovely and sweet and all of those things. If my mother sat next to me it would set me off. It unfortunately escalated “my situation” and I spent a bit more time in the toilet cubicle and started dipping a bit more frequently in my “lunch box of pharmaceutical approved medication” which is all not ideal.

I struggle if my kids are close to me, too much of them near me and I start to shake, rattle and roll. <yes, it is loads of fun to be me, I am a ton of fun at parties and get togethers>

I posted a note about this a little while ago.

You know that mantra “You never know who reads your blog!

Well, bottom line is you don’t.

And I don’t really consider it too much else I might not say anything, or I might start censoring what I say and then I might as well write for …. You Magazine.

So far, all okay.

But then someone at work reads my blog. Someone forwards it to someone else who forwarded it to someone else. All who work 2 metres from me.

And it was off ….. like …. I don’t know what goes off?

So now not only do a few dozen (I am being modest) people in cyber space know that I am a full on whack job – but now a few hundred people in my office complex know that I am full on crazy as well, and making judgements accordingly. <sigh>.

I know there should be a bright side here, but I am seriously not able to find one. I will wait for Natasha to find a way to politely comment, as sometimes she does manage to say it quite like it is and can make me snort even in the face of full on disaster.

The irony is I spoke to HR and asked her to keep it confidential, because I like to give the impression that I am mildly sane, it prevents the goats from getting afraid and scattering. Work has actually been great in understanding I am having a “bit of trouble.”

You really cannot actually write a better fail moment than this one.

I would like to say “hi” to all of you from my office who might be reading this, and really you should not be spending company resources reading non-company related material during office hours.

It is strictly prohibited and frowned upon. I can also check the URL/ISP details so know who you are. (I can’t, really, so don’t panic.)

To those who are not from my office, but know me – this is what I would call an epic fail moment, or …….. no, it’s just an epic fail moment, of which I had several this year.

On the upside I have sleeping pills. I am weighing up whether one or twenty-seven is a good number for this evening.

No, really I am fine. This is not some tragic cry for help. I am not quite throw myself off a ledge yet, but I have developed a wonderful case of catastrophe and panic going on – as we speak.

If you are crazy and you know it, and mildly to extremely embarrassed clap your hands!!

Clap clap! You know the rest of the song, so I will leave it to you …….

19 Comments

by reluctantmom on August 4, 2011 • Permalink

Posted in At the Office, Strange Days, Therapy and Therapists

Tagged anxiety disorder, Depression, Going Insane, Going Mad, Work, Worry

Posted by reluctantmom on August 4, 2011

http://reluctantmom.wordpress.com/2011/08/04/i-love-epic-fail-moments-and-i-seem-to-be-doing-them-regularly/