Secrets

I'm not so good with secrets. I had been hiding my return to smoking from my daughter, and it has been eating me up. The constant sneaking behind her back, and also the idea that she might catch me at it, and what that would do to her.

So I decided to talk to her about it, and try to explain it in a more open way. I want to have an open dialogue with her, and in order to achieve that I need to become vulnerable to that too.

She wasn't very happy. She didn't speak to me all the way from school to home, after I told her in the car. And when we got home, later on she told me she wanted to say I am not the best mom in the world anymore. That kind of hurt, but I know it is her 7 year old way of expressing her disappointment in me.

I feel guilty, but kind of relieved that I came clean. I am scared of her ever starting, and I am trying to explain to her how addictive it is, and that it is very hard to quit, and stay away from it when you start, so it is never a good idea to start in the first place.

I wish I didn't have to smoke. I wish it didn't make my depression feel better, and I wish I could stop again. But knowing what I do now, I don't know if I can. I originally stopped for her, so it is a hard blow in that respect, but I am a more patient mother now, and with her going through a lot of stress with school, ADD, and anxiety, I need to be patient now.

So concerned

I'm feeling so concerned. DH is sitting with,what looks to be major depression coming on, and I feel so powerless to help him.

This is not a place where I would like to discuss his issues, but it is complicated and he needs urgent help.
We can only afford that early next year, but in the mean time I really think I should go to our GP, and see if she would put him on some anti depressants.

It's such a powerless feeling to see someone you love go through something like this. I am constantly worrying about him, and I just want to act in some way to make it better. I know better than most what it means to get sucked into that deep dark hole of depression, and to not have any way of getting out of it.

When it seems there is no room to breathe or move, and you are paralyzed by the depression demon. I think he has been so strong for me for so long, that now when things are going better with me, he has finally allowed himself to feel his own pain.

Now it is my turn to be strong for him, and to find ways of helping him.

I'm getting that internal itch again, which I don't want to give space to grow. If it grows it usually turns into a Manic period, and right now I don't think I am equipped to deal with one of those anymore.

Happy things are happening as well, so I try and focus on that. I just feel this need to do so much, and the ability to do none of it, which creates this imbalance, which leads to those feelings.

Generally I am still doing well. Other than the issues my poor DH is having, my daughter seems to also be going through a rough time.

I think a lot of it has to do with school. She's had 2 obviously depressive episodes in 2 days. Where the tiniest thing has made her extremely sad, and clingy, crying for almost nothing. Where I can see all I need to do is just be there for her.

I need to also talk to my GP about taking her off the Concerta during the December holidays, and seeing if we can go without it until I get her to a psychiatrist as well.

For 3 messed up individuals, we have a good family though. We love each other, and I think because of our issues we have compassion towards each other. This is our saving grace, and keeps us going.

Dealing

I haven't written in a long time. Mostly because I have been avoiding some issues and I have tried to deal with other issues, in different ways.

Things still seem better still I have been providing my brain with nicotine, and it has definitely helped my anxiety issues.

I've been spending a lot of time on studying. I signed up for a couple of course on Coursera. Think Again: How to reason and argue, and Introduction to Philosophy. They are running concurrently right now, so I am neglecting the philosophy one, but I am enjoying having something constructive to do to alleviate my boredom.

I'm currently having some issues with my daughters teacher at school, that have been upsetting to me.

She doesn't seem to be very supportive of her, and have also done some things that are totally unacceptable to me.

A while back my daughter had a conversation with a friend at home about where plants came from, and it touched on evolution. She then had a similar conversation at school and the teacher told her she's not allowed to talk about it. Which I Do Not understand as evolution is in the curriculum, and they are eventually going to study it in science.

I ignored it though, because the year is almost done and I wanted to rather keep the peace.

Then 2 days before Halloween, the teacher had a discussion in class, and according to my daughter she said that Halloween was the devil's birthday. I was so upset I sent her an angry email the moment I found out.
She denied it, but my daughter said she was lying, and I can't imagine that she would just make that up. We have never even discussed the existence of the devil.

Then last night my daughter told me that the teacher regularly threatens kids in the class, with sending them to the principal, where they will be spanked. Spanking in schools are against the law, so this will never happen, and I have a huge problem with controlling kids with fear.

I was quite upset to hear this, but haven't said anything to the teacher. I did tell my daughter that no one is allowed to spank her EVER. Which seemed to make her feel a bit better. I'm just so sad that she's had such a crappy year in Grade one.

I'm now starting to doubt everything this woman has had to say about my child. I really feel that some of my daughter's performance issues can be attributed to this woman's attitude towards her.

I also believe she has a huge problem with our Secular Humanism, and non religion, and me being quite adamant about it.

I'm just hoping next year will be better, as my poor child is already showing signs of anxiety, and does not enjoy school at all. I'm sure this can change if she is in the right class, with a decent teacher.

What a relief

I'm not sure how many people are going to understand this. And to be honest I don't really care. Anyone who has read my blog for the last two years, and who knows me would know that I have been having a hell of a battle against depression, anxiety and plain despondency.

Yes I have been hit hard by life, the universe and everything, but somehow I was struggling with no skills to handle the knocks.

Now I have found something that has instantly improved some of my most urgent problems.
Gone are my concentration issues, my bad memory, my despondency. Away with anxiety, and now I have something to look forward to everyday.

Can it be. All just because I finally accepted and embraced the fact that I have started smoking again. No more tranquilizers needed. I woke up with a smile, I have this joy in my heart. the depression has waned, and I don't know if it will come back, I don't know if this is only temporary. But I have realized once again that my brain just needs nicotine to function well.

Maybe if I had never started smoking in the first place I'd not have this problem, who knows. But I am for once so so happy. I am facing some very daunting challenges right now, but now I can see them as challenges, and not the end of the world. I had another session with my therapist, and even he said he'd rather see me smoking again than become dependent on tranquilizers, where I was heading. Not that they even worked. A smoke worked much more effectively.

Even my dad, before I told him I'd started again, immediately noticed this huge difference in me. So when I told him he admitted that he also thinks it is just gonna be something I need to accept. It's not ideal. But there are worse things. I'm hiding it from my daughter as much as I can though.

She already has a lot of anxiety about my husband who smokes, and I don't want to add to that.

So be happy for me. I am happy again. I sincerely hope it lasts. Trying to keep it to the minimum to cut costs, but immediately I have lost my carb cravings, so maybe now I can lose some weight, and come off some expensive drugs for blood pressure.

I have noticed that I can't drink any alcohol because it immediately messes with my blood pressure, whereas the smoking doesn't noticeably affect it.

I'm looking forward to life again. I'm inspired again. I'm happy again.

I've calmed down

I've calmed down a bit since yesterday 

I'm not myself yet. Depression is setting in again, and I'm not feeling well at all. As usual I am turning to writing to get through this. I'm turning to sharing as it feels like that is the only way to dilute these horrid feelings.

I just don't want to be touched, or looked at, or talked to, or anything

I'm unhappy that I left a message for my Psychologist yesterday that I need to see him urgently, and he didn't get back to me. Now I am in frozen mode so it is so much harder for me to ask for help. I did send an sms this morning, so thats gonna be as much as I can beg for his attention right now.

I don't know where the money will come from, but I need the therapy right now. I'm shattering.

Anxiety is the devil here, and my unsubstantial self esteem. Non existent for the moment. How sad is that.

I'm calmer though. I'm not freaking out right now. I'm trying to stick my head in the sand right now, to just carry on.

Weapons grade Plutonium

I had a really good therapy session today. I printed out this article, I've posted before http://parrishmiller.com/narcissists.html on narcissistic mothers, and highlighted the things I experienced specifically. My therapist was really impressed that I did "homework" and said this is the biggest jump in progress we've made since I started. 

It was because at last someone put in words everything I had been through. From what he scanned I have a quite severe narcissistic mother, and had a, his words "weapons grade plutonium", experience. So it is going to take a LOT of very HARD work to get out of that hole. And some Weapons Grade Plutonium therapy as well. 

My mission now is to keep telling myself " I am not who she said I was" and "I am worth it" and to slowly get my self confidence from somewhere. Without the self confidence I've been struggling with job hunting, constantly feeling "not good enough" to apply for a certain position.

I've also felt parralised, and like I am going into a depression AGAIN, but he said it could be part of the grieving process, since reading this article, and for the first time recognising and acknowledging what was done to me. 

Sorry for going on and on about it, but it has been a HUGE jump in my consciousness for me. To feel horrible and pathetic my whole life, and to then realise why I feel that way, and to know it is not my fault. I was damaged.

Welcome back to me

It's been a while, I know. Last post was 21 November 2012. So nothing in Dec or January, but they flew by so quickly.

Towards the end of last year I was just way too depressed to drag everyone down with me. I really started saying I'm ok and I'm fine and I'm good to everyone, while things were going crappy.

Things are still going crappy, but at least I've lifted out of the depression again. I'm seeing my psychologist again and we're working on my terrible memetics (coined by Richard Dawkins). It is basically the internal meme's we carry around about ourselves. The truths we have accepted that have been passed on to us by our parents and society, just as hereditary as genetics. You can wiki for a more complete explanation.

So there is a lot of work to be done, and once again we have limited sessions. Only 13, of which we've already used 2. We've changed to two weekly sessions in order to stretch them out a bit.

I'm also seeing my psychiatrist on Monday and I'm considering asking him to add anti depressants to my meds. I do really badly on them alone, but maybe with the other meds they'll be good.

Next post I'll tell you about my job interview during December.

I leave you with a song. It's been a while since I posted one, and this is what I am using as my theme song for the moment. Things are even tougher financially at the moment, but I can't dwell on that. I need to just carry on, and do what I can.

Medication Pro's and con's

This is not a medical blog and I very rarely post any real facts. It's all just opinion and my point of view.
After a long journey to find the right dose of medication I was extremely happy when it happened. I'm on 1mg Fluanxol, and 200mg Epitec.

I've felt quite stable on it, but I had also been seeing a psychologist. Those who've been the meds and psychologist route knows how well it can make you feel to be able to unload every week. To get a good dose of reality check, mixed with pep talk, and some really hard self exploration.

So I want to say meds came first and then came therapy, but I'm not sure. My psychologist is very skeptical of my bipolar diagnosis, and I don't blame him. The Psychologist who saw me before meds is quite convinced about the diagnosis, so a bit of a catch 22 situation.

For the 10 weeks I saw my psychologist I was pretty stable. Had some little lows and one little high, but pretty much stable. I felt okay. I managed to snap out of any moods relatively quickly, I think. My concentration has been getting better. My productivity has been getting better. I have improved in a lot of ways that have little to do with strictly mood, and I'm not sure what the effects of psycho therapy has on actual physical concentration issues.

So all in all one has to say that the medication has had a positive effect, and an actual chemical issue has been, if not solved, at least improved.

The test of Bipolar II in many cases seems to be "If the meds work, then we know for sure" It seems it is a very slippery one to diagnose, especially when, like me, one is on the lower end of the scale. The problem is even the lower end of the scale has a big influence on your life, happiness, and ability to lead a satisfying existence. It influences your relationships and it contaminates every thought.

The problem is I am experiencing some apathy. I've always despised apathy. I just can't seem get out of it, and it is becoming more noticeable  Great when it means I don't go into a really low down down deep depression, but it doesn't seem to be able to completely prevent that. It just prevents me from experiencing Joy and Excitement, and steals my happiness.

I constantly feel just subnormal. If normal was 5, and hypo manic was 10, and deep depression was 0 I feel like I'm on 4, most of the time. I can go up to 7 and I can go down to 3. But it would be an angry 7, I don't seem to be able to do a happy 7. But I am stuck on 4, and have been for some time.

The question I need to ask is: " Is it the medication, or is it my crappy life and history?" My psychologist is convinced it is the second, but like I discussed above, there is proof or at least soft signs, that the medication is there, and is doing some good. Might it not also be that the medication could be having some negative effect. Or is this what normal feels like. Is my natural mood pessimism?

I have heard Bipolar sufferers complain about that exact effect of the medication. I now have to figure things out on my own because my medical aid doesn't pay for more psych visits till next year, and I can't afford any visits either.

I'm trying to take some positive steps to improve my situation. I need to fix some of the big obvious crappy life issues, in order to find some success and happiness. I have worked hard to grow my experience and knowledge, so it might be time to give up on being self employed, and look for an actual paying job. I feel slightly more able to deal with other people,in a work situation, so I am hopeful that this will be a possibility. Unless of course my current workload increases sufficiently to provide for us financially.

These are the thoughts I struggle with at the moment. The apathy is making it more difficult to write as well, so I might be slower with that for a while. I find at least I can fake some enthusiasm with most people, but not myself. I probably just come across as really relaxed, but I can't describe this as relaxation. Inner anxious dialogue is still there. I just don't feel it.

Boundaries

I don't have very strong ones.

For a long time I had no idea of what boundaries really are. I think if you know me, especially online and have read here, you know my boundaries are very soft.

Wikipedia explains them as follows:

Personal boundaries are guidelines, rules or limits that a person creates to identify for him- or herself what are reasonable, safe and permissible ways for other people to behave around him or her and how he or she will respond when someone steps outside those limits.^[1] They are built out of a mix of beliefs, opinions, attitudes, past experiences and social learning.^[2]Personal boundaries define you as an individual, outlining your likes and dislikes, and setting the distances you allow others to approach.^[3] They include physical, mental, psychological and spiritual boundaries, involving beliefs, emotions, intuitions and self-esteem.^[4] Jacques Lacan considered them to be layered in a hierarchy, reflecting “all the successive envelopes of the biological and social status of the person”^[5] from the most primitive to the most advanced.

 After my little breakdown this week and a chat with my psychologist yesterday it once again came to my attention that my boundaries need some enforcing.

I had to deal with a difficult client, who refused to pay me, even though I did absolutely nothing wrong, followed every letter of the law, and tried my best to prepare them for a large bill.

I took it extremely badly and ended up feeling worthless, desolate, and hopeless. For the first time in a very long while I had suicidal thoughts, I felt absolutely useless. I only realised yesterday in therapy that there is absolutely no correlation between a client projecting their own crap onto me, and my abilities.

That's very blurry to me. I take any kind of rejection extremely personally, and half my emotional blocks have been because of that. I hurt so easily.

So now to figure out where it comes from and how to repair my crappy sense of self. No self esteem is so unattractive, and yet I can recognise and discuss it intellectually and still fail to apply it.

I don't have many psych visits left that the medical aid will pay for, and there is no way I can afford any more visits on my own, so I am very scared that I'm going to just revert to old behaviour and thoughts when I don't get my weekly dose of reason. My psychologist is very honest and I have learnt to trust him, even though that's hard for me, and I still hold back sometimes. It feels like we are making progress.

I don't like to see the hurt and pathetic little lost child part of me, but recognising and fixing that is what will bring the healing in all aspects of my life.

Bad Place

I'm just in a bad place right now. I haven't written much. I have one or two posts saved that are incomplete. Dealing with some issues while in the mids of Tax due dates and end of financial year stuff.

Lots of work, very little money. Lots of stress, lots of depression. Can't remember if I ever did the post about having had to go on Anti depressants after stopping smoking... blah blah lots of stuff about nicotine possibly masking depression etc. Well.. I had to go off them again as they made me slightly psychotic. It was a little bit of fun though.... that "Fuck the world" feeling, but it was a lot of scary as well, because I am a mom and responsible for more than just me.

So I am on nothing right now, getting through a very stressful period while I wait for an appointment at a psychiatrist so we can get the hang of my chemical issues once and for all.

Unfortunately there are no pills for sorting out my "surrounded by assholes" issues, and I need to make some hard decisions about my life. Fuck....

Anyhow feeling very blah, and crap and moody and pissed off, and just all around unpleasant to be around at the moment. And I have lost trust in my own judgement. How stupid is that. GAWD they should just lock me up with a straight jacket on.

One thing is for sure. At times like these one really gets a very good idea of who are the good people who surround you and who aren't. So that's me signing off for now. Till I get some answers, and manage to make some slightly less embarrassing sense.

PS. Oh and I found out I could have either Arthritis...or Fybromyalgia Yay...not. More blood tests end of March and rheumatologist end of May

Stopped Smoking

I smoked my very last cigarette on 12 October 2011. After 18 years of smoking I am once again a non smoker. I had so many reasons to stop, the greatest being that I want to live as long as possible in order to see my daughter grow and have a happy life. To be a part of her life for as long as possible.

I'm sure I will come back to the many reasons and the how around stopping at a later stage, but for today I want to briefly discuss my physical reaction to nicotine withdrawal, and what you may experience, or can expect.

I'll try to avoid the obvious but the first 3 days were pretty hard. I survived on gum, stubbornness, coffee and water. I ate a lot as well.

I felt hazy unfocused, and my mind was all over the place. For three days it felt like I was walking in a dream world still half asleep, except every time someone would talk to me when it felt like I could just bite their heads off. I kept wanting to scream " LEAVE ME ALONE".

For almost the whole of 18 years I used smoking as a way to wake up in the mornings.

So I increased my caffeine consumption and chewed a lot of gum. I guess I was luckier than some that drinking coffee didn't make the craving worse but seemed to cheat my mind into believing I had a smoke with the coffee, while I didn't really.

Occasionally I just went to sit outside in my normal smoking spot and breathed deeply, this helped a bit when it got really bad.

Because I had often sat there reading while smoking it also helped to just sit there and read. It was hilarious how easily I could fool my body into thinking it was getting it's "fix"

The hardest part other than waking up without a smoke, was stopping eating. for 18 years my body thought it was only finished eating after having a smoke. Once again I was lucky that I could replace my "end of meal que" with a cup of coffee. I did myself a favour and bought decaff for the first time ever, as I didn't want to have to struggle with an unbreakable caffeine addiction later.

For anyone doing this, all I can say is take it one minute at a time. Find ways to beat your own mind games, and persevere. it gets so much easier.

Next time I will go into the connections I discovered between smoking and depression, and how I ended up back on Anti Depressants after 5 years off them.

....this is for Robin and Lynette who had their first smoke free day today 

Going Down Down Down

For the longest time I have been okay. For the longest time the little downs where fine, and easy to get out of. Since beginning of April I had this gut feeling that something was just off.

Something just not quite right.

I just went on with life, facing each little mishap as it happened, and trying to keep looking on the bright side.

Now I have to admit though. I'm already over the edge. I'm on the slippery slope down. I'm still trying to stop it. Trying to climb back out, but I just don't know if it's worth the energy.

Maybe I should just embrace this darkness, and hope it passes quickly. Is fighting it not just delaying the inevitable?

Every little mishap now seems to make the cement of my darkness just a little bit more sticky. I'm getting stuck in this quagmire. It's still around my feet, but I hate this feeling of a tightening band of dread and fear around my middle.

It's been there for a month, in lesser proportions and now it's just getting darker and darker and harder to breathe.

Every little thing that goes wrong right now is just so much harder to bounce back from. I hate this feeling. I guess it wouldn't be clinical depression if it was easy to get out of.

I just don't like it.

Will try and convince myself of all the things I know so well, because as soon as you sink into the cement or mud, it's so hard to believe that positive actions help for negative emotions.

So will force myself to do what I need in order to escape this. Just forgive me if I seem a bit dull, If I struggle to concentrate, when I react to the smallest mishap with paranoia. When I feel dread even though the sun is shining and the day is bright.

My day is a bit rainy. I know intellectually my mind must be playing tricks on me. Emotionally it feels like something is so very wrong. Something is going so very wrong. Something bad is just waiting to happen.

I don't want to feel this, because I don't want to create it. But I can't deny it. My whole body is feeling it. Like all my nerves are raw, and the roof is gonna cave in just now. I guess I have a bad feeling, and I don't know if it's just me or something more.

Crash Boom Bang

The sound of me hitting Low. I could not stay awake yesterday. Firstly I can never sleep soundly past 8 on a weekend morning. That's the time my 3 year old wakes up at the latest, and she never allows me to sleep later, so when I first dragged one eyelid from the other at 12pm on Sunday I knew something was wrong.

Physically it is impossible for me to sleep that deeply that long. I wrote it off to having a few drinks the night before, but I did not feel hungover in the slightest, I just felt physically drained. I still do.

I dragged myself to the couch downstairs, attempted to keep my eyes open, and failed miserably. 4 drinks don't do this to me. I spent most of the day in and out of naps on the couch. I attempted to force myself to get up and play with Caitlin but my neck could barely keep my head up. Luckily I seem to have a very patient, and forgiving husband, who kept Caitlin busy and also completed the household tasks.

Eventually he made dinner, we ate. I tried to force myself to bath Caitlin but I couldn't even walk up the stairs. I had to get her out of the bath and dress her, and it was excruciating. I almost fell asleep with her on her bed. Eventually I dragged myself out of there, forced myself to shower and pack her lunch, and fell on my own bed exhausted.

I read a bit and fell asleep at the normal bed time for me. I had a bad night though, tossing and turning. So by this morning I felt like I hadn't slept at all.

I even had a low blood pressure episode when I got up this morning, but managed to get everything done I had to. I feel slightly better than yesterday, but still physically drained.

Now in order for this to be a Bipolar kind of Low, that means I was coming down from up high.

Since last week Wednesday I have been very frustrated and angry, so was that a hypo manic episode? I've been googling symptoms, and irritability is one of them. I just thought it was my hormones.

Saturday I was doing a bit of the "life of the party" thing and I did have a little warning bell go off in my head, but I still thought, nah I'm fine. So I guess maybe it was. It would have to be for me to hit such a physical low, wouldn't it?

Mentally I'm okay, just tired. Thoughts dragging and not really willing to do much. Late Sat night I went out with a friend. The 4 drinks didn't affect me much, physically, but mentally I also started dragging, so maybe it was a combination of factors.

Alcohol is a central nervous system depressant, but it very rarely kicks me in a low by itself.

So now I'm just hoping it passes swiftly and I get to go back to a nice level normal.

History of Depression: Part 2- Breakdown and Treatment

In General as a whole, and to my ability to remember, which is not great, my childhood was not bad.

I remember afternoons filled with exploration and games, of naughty stuff, of adventure, of fantasy and of Joy.

Things where not perfect at home but they where not as bad as some, and better than others.

Most of my Angst peaked during my teenage years, and continued from there. Sometimes I wish I could speak to that confused, self conscious and lost child.

After I was married, and after some stressful events, I had a huge fight with my husband one evening. I remember a lot of shouting, running outside sitting crying on the step. I don’t remember who phoned my mom and dad. It could have been me. It could have been my husband.

When they got there I was lying on the couch, in the dark, in tears. Having drank alcohol to just calm down, I was very much unresponsive, and uncommunicative. No one really knew what to do with me, as I didn’t know what to do with myself.

My mother told me this is the last straw; I would have to get help. I couldn’t go on like this. My inability to deal with my emotions, and this dangerous depression that had haunted me through out my life, was starting to steal me away. She cared. I think in many ways, even though she has her faults, my mother just didn’t know what to do with me most of my life. I know she tried her best, and I know she loves me.

My mother paid for me to see a psychologist. The Psychologist was so great and after two sessions told me she thinks I need to go to Psychiatrist for a diagnosis, and knowing I can’t afford it she recommended Tygerberg Hospital.

She organised a referral to Tygerberg Hospital Psychiatric department. I had to wait more than a month for the appointment, but the thing was I was taking an active step in trying to help myself. I continued seeing the psychologist while I waited for my appointment.

It wasn’t easy and it was incredibly scary. I bullied myself through it all, forcing myself to just ignore all my fears and phobias. By that time I was very much withdrawn, and unable to do simple things like going to the shop by myself.

Arno was very supportive, and I know my parents also tried to help me. I had recently resigned from a very stressful job, and was working as tutor for my aunt’s children in the afternoons, and even she was really supportive.

All the support and encouragement made me feel accountable to them, and also forced me to commit to getting help.

After tons of questionnaires, a 2 hour session with the psychiatrist, blood tests etc, I received my diagnosis. Severe Depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Social Phobia

I was also given the option of continuing my psychological and psychiatric treatment through Tygerberg, which is a government teaching hospital and therefore much cheaper. I was put on 2 Anti Depressants, Tryptanol and Aropax.

I went back to my expensive Psychologist for my last session with her. One of the first things she told me was “How do you feel about your diagnosis?”

All I felt was relief and validation. There was a name for what I was experiencing, and there was a way forward.

I started treatment at Tygerberg. Had to go once a week, and the psychologists and Psychiatrist would rotate every 3 months (as they where students) so that brought its own challenges. But after a month I was asked if I would be interested in group therapy.

My initial reaction was, “no ways”. I was asked to try it once though, and immediately I was hooked.

Group therapy offered something that one on one could not. I got to basically connect with others in the same and worse position than me. I got the opportunity to be honest about my experiences, and what I felt, and had a commitment to these other people in the same boat as me, to be honest, as they where. And to give honest feedback on every issue talked about. I got to see my own issues and other’s from differing points of view. I also had much more consistency in treatment as the group, nor the therapists (3) in it, often changed.

After about a year I stopped my one on one sessions and just continued with group. After another while I had to go back to one on one, but was offered an opportunity to go into treatment with a slightly more senior psychologist who did not have to rotate every 3 months. The funny thing? She was in the children’s section, and in the exact same office I had gone to all those years ago as a child.

After about 2 years I stopped all therapy, continued with 6 month visits to the Psychiatrist and staid on Aropax. I was already of the Tryptanol at this stage, but got it occasionally in case I couldn’t sleep.

I was doing really well on the medication. I was happy, energetic. I was mostly on a Bipolar high. Hypo manic. I didn’t realise this neither did the psychiatrists. This was my fault though because as before I managed to easily manipulate the tests they gave me. I had set my mind on the diagnosis being the only one I wanted to work with. I had met many people struggling with Bipolar in group therapy, and I was Not going to be one of those. I made up my mind you see. So I never really talked about the edginess. That was written off as anxiety disorder, which came with depression, didn’t it? Ok I couldn’t quite figure out why mine where never really anxiety attacks. My social phobia also disappeared and the OCD was not really OCD as such. It only influenced my thoughts, and never my actions. And for 2 years it was quite okay. It was a huge change from the constant dark molasses of depression which held me down and weighed me down.

It was fun. I remember about a week after I started on the double dose of AD’s my brother asked me to go with him in his car one morning. We put the radio loud and I was Giggling, glowing, talking a 100 miles a minute. He asked me “Are you on drugs” and I said YES. I LOVE these anti-depressants.

At that stage of my life, being ready for a party 24/7 was okay. It was good. It was fun; I needed all the energy I had to deal with another stressful job, as well as marriage.

I loved it.

Then it turned dark.

2004

I had 2 miscarriages. The first, I wasn’t aware that I was pregnant. I had no idea. I had a week away with my husband, visiting my party animal friend In July in Richards’s bay. I drank, I smoked, and I got stoned. I slept so much. I was constantly tired and constantly hungry, but I never once even considered the possibility that I might be pregnant.

My cycle was a mess, and I decided to make an appointment with a Gynaecologist. That’s when he told me, “You appear to be pregnant but there is no foetus”

Two weeks of hell on earth followed, where I went through every imaginable emotion, until eventually I was booked in for a D&C. There was no hope. This pregnancy was not meant to be, and I was stuck with all the feelings of Guilt about my conduct, which probably caused this.

I went to the psychiatrist after this, discussed it, and said all the right things. I refused to be one of those women who fell apart because of a miscarriage so I carried on.

December 2004 I found out I was pregnant again. This time it was planned and we where overjoyed. I was ecstatic, so was my husband, the whole family. I could only get an appointment with my gynae for 2 months later, but I didn’t mind too much. I knew nothing.

So on the day of my now Sister in Law’s kitchen tea, I drove myself to my mother’s house, for the surprise event. On the way I started getting cramps. I thought maybe my stomach was upset. I went to the bathroom at my mom’s house and there was blood.

I immediately burst into tears; no one else had arrived yet, so I quietly told my mom something is wrong I need to go to the doctor. I drove myself back home, sobbing all the way. When my surprised husband opened the front door, I told him I am loosing our baby.

The rest of it was even more dramatic than the first one, and involved my gynaecologist basically leaving me to bleed, at home for 3 days before managing to see me. (I never once thought of just going to the E.R.) At that time I had already spontaneously miscarried, and I was not in a good state.

For a while all was fine. I was sad. I was down, but after another consultation with my Psychiatrist (a diff one every time) I had decided, even 2 can’t get me down. I will not go back into therapy I could handle this.

Then I lost my mind

I was edgy. I was anxious. I needed a fix. I needed excitement. I was bored. I was tired of boredom. I had to Do SOMETHING. NOW.

I discovered a MSN Backgammon site on the internet (which has since been closed) this was a community of internet depravity. I discovered Cybersex; I discovered the godlike powers a woman has online. I discovered the dark side of the internet, and submersed myself into it.

I told my husband that I think we should have an open relationship, and I dragged him kicking and screaming into the mess with me.

At the same time I started taking Guitar lessons again, I joined a few bands/jamming sessions. I drank to excess. I was a Dark Angel of Party. I was permanently on some kind of adrenaline rush. I got argumentative, harsh, cruel, and wallowed in darkness.

This was not the darkness of depression. It was the centre of self destruction, which can be even darker than depression, and 20 times more dangerous. With depression I had the darkness, but no will to do anything, even to myself. With the despair I now had I had energy galore, and a will to push myself into area’s I had never explored before.

This episode of my life culminated in a severe fight with Arno, where I took a whole pack of Tryptanol, and when he phoned the ambulance I told him I didn’t take it, I was lying. Luckily he didn’t listen to me.

The night in hospital was a nightmare. It was worse to tell my parents the next day, as I was working for my dad, and had to take the day off.

I was embarrassed. It was a wake up call though. I had to take a step back and look at my self destruction and stop it.

It took a long time for me to work through what the issues where. I didn’t go back into therapy, but I did discuss it with my psychiatrist, still avoiding the “manic” factors, as I just didn’t recognise it yet.

Later in 2005 I was pregnant again. It was a tough pregnancy and filled with fear of loosing my baby, but she was safely delivered 24 July 2006.

She was enough reason for me to find healthy ways to deal with my feelings.
The last few years I’ve spent figuring out how to deal with them in a healthy way. I’m still in that journey. There’s no quick fix. I did go off the Aropax, 2 days after I came home with Caitlin.

I went through what I recon was probably PND. I had some lows that I managed to work through with the help of a lot of friends.

Last year I even contemplated going into therapy again. This is still an option. But since I read up on Bipolar II, and realised I am a fit, even up to the usual wrongful diagnoses of depression and anxiety disorder with OCD, I discovered more tools to ease my way ,tools to better help me understand my “chemical romance” with my body.

I guess there is a lot I glossed over, but this is about how much I want to immerse myself in that darkness. I’ve moved on. I move on every day. I’m sure I will get back to some things from time to time.

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Update - 01/02/2011

I've decided to leave this post unedited. It is very painful to re-read as I am a very different person now from what I was then. This happened though, and these were my thoughts about it last year when I typed this out.

I've now come to different realisations which I will share soon enough. Especially the big one. I am not bipolar or depressed. Not really. I allow myself those as an escape from responsibility. This applies to me, Myself. There are many people who do experience these horrible conditions and will need therapy and medication for the rest of their lives.

For me it was a necessary learning phase. Something I had to experience and get through. I'm over it now

History with Mental Illness. Part 1: Childhood

I’m trying to force myself to do the things I am promising to do. I said I’d do a post about my history with Depression, no matter how little I like to dwell on that issue.

I’m doing this as I believe everyone asks themselves the question at one time or another. “Is this feeling normal?” “Am I normal?” “Is there something wrong with me?”

Those are some of the things I have been asking since I was a child. I started reading self improvement articles in magazines around the time I was 10, because I knew something wasn’t quite right.

Obviously my environment was slightly dysfunctional as is about 80% of Families.

So my first documented, recognised episode came when I was in Std 4 (Grade 6) age about 11, I think.

My home-room teacher was on Maternity leave, and her replacement did not like me at all. To be honest I don’t remember much about what was said or done to me, if anything, but my perception was of feeling threatened to the extreme.

I was an extremely shy child, quiet and good in every expected way, maybe slightly dreamy and unfocused. I always did my homework, was never disruptive in class.

Somehow I did upset this teacher, and her, me, like I said I can’t remember the details of the Why.

So one Monday when my mother dropped me off at school, on her way to work I lost it. I was hysterical; I refused to go to school. She forced me out of the car, and drove away, and I ran after her. She probably didn’t know how to handle this, and took her only option (She had to get to work, kids don’t get this) so she kept driving.

What did I do? I went into the class to my teacher, face a mess of tears, and still ever so obviously upset and uncontrollably crying, and told her I need to go home I feel sick.

There’s very little of what happened that day that I still remember feeling, but being unable to stop crying is the most prevalent feeling still. I just could not stop and I did NOT want to be at school. I wanted to crawl into a dark hole. I wanted my room, my stuff, my safety. I felt embarrassed by my actions, I felt scared of what my mother would do to me. Being unable to stop crying and the horror of having to go to school that day was stronger than anything else.

The teacher phoned my mom and she picked me up again. I don’t remember the consequences of my actions. I have no idea what happened after this or the next time I went to school.

This event has stayed with me though because it led up to my mother taking me to a child psychologist.
I don’t know if she told me what was going on, but I was clever enough to know this was a head doctor and if I don’t tell him what he wants to know, what “normal” people would say and do, then I would probably be put in an insane asylum. I just didn’t want anyone to know I was crazy, as I felt I was.

So when he asked me questions I told him everything I thought would be the “right” answers. I’m not quite sure how I managed to know what the “right” answers where, but for instance, when he asked if I really liked spending every break in the library, or if I would rather play with friends outside, I told him I like playing outside, but sometimes my friends aren’t there.

This was Bullshit; I didn’t like the other kids. I got teased mercilessly, I felt self conscious, and I felt different. It felt like I was an alien, mixed in with humans. I knew none of the rules, and I couldn’t please anyone, even though I tried. I had been asking questions about my school work, that the teachers couldn’t answer.

I always seem to notice discrepancies, and I guess they felt threatened that I wouldn’t just shut up and conform. This was done quietly though. I was a “Good” Child in school.

I loved the library. I could read comics all break long, I could read books, I could explore everything I wanted. The Library teacher also loved me, so I felt safe there.

So almost everything the psychologist asked I answered non truthfully. His diagnosis, there was nothing wrong with me, it was probably a normal childhood stage, I would outgrow it.

So obviously I started thinking, if the lies I told meant I was normal, would that mean if I told the truth, that I was not? See too clever for my own good.

Well this was my first look into the world of psychologists. It took me many years to return, more successfully to the world of Therapy. By that time, though, I was forced to get help as I was at the point of no return

Life before and after

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Update 26 Jan 2011

I don't think I am Bipolar anymore. I think I have strange up's and downs, and I am probably chemically depressed, but I think people who are seriously suffering under bipolar disorder might be offended by my self diagnosis. For if I am it is very slightly.

I also think I have been handling it well, but might do better if I admitted more of my weaknesses to myself. That's a discussion for a different day though

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Life before I discovered I was Bipolar consisted of normal periods with some very low Depressing lows. Where I was stuck in the dark oily depths of downriver. I knew it was depression. I knew it would pass. I was kind to myself, having been through the therapy and medication route. I had the skills to get through it. I made myself move along and then magically I would wake up one morning, hear a song, talk to a friend, and the darkness was gone.

A lot like the weather in Cape Town, I could never predict the dark times.

I could try and avoid it by not pondering too much on whatever was going on in my life that triggered it, or wallowing in it. Usually the darkness got shattered by overwhelming Joy and Happiness. By the thrill of Life. By periods of Immense Love, Gratitude, and feelings of "I can conquer all" I thought that was good. I wanted that. I still do. I LOVE it. I love the sparkle, the dance, the energy. I love waking up with a song in my mind and a outlook of pure ecstasy at the smallest thing.

I didn't like when the happy energetic medium turned to a flood of frustrated wants and needs, impossible to identify and even harder to satisfy. When I'm sitting wide awake and ready for a party at 1am, and everyone is sleeping. When I am all energised with no where to go. No where to get rid of the itch. Where something, anything exciting had to happen or be created by me in that exact moment.

In between there was calm and there was Joy, but no itch. No frazzle, no frustration, no darkness.

Then the Sunflower Fairy opened my eyes. I never realised what this was. I attributed it to being Libran. To being an old soul. To being spiritually advance as well as lacking. To being.

When I was diagnosed with Depression ( severe), Social Phobia ( not too bad), OCD ( Very specific and never quite fit) I was also medicated ( WOW what a high. LOVED it)
I also did Group Therapy ( So glad I'm not as Messed up as THOSE people)

I did this dance of meds and therapy for 2 years, until I felt able and willing to go it alone. Left therapy. Stayed on the meds. But only up to a point. Then I weaned myself.

Knowing what I do now, I guess going off the Anti-depressant/ Anti-Anxiety meds probably saved my life.

I had done most of my most scarily self destructive things while on Anti=Depressants, and while being on a BiP high. I know it now, didn't know it then.

After my 2nd Suicide attempt I told the dr. I am not depressed. I did it to get attention. He believed me. Maybe I should have told him I did it to do SOMETHING, ANYTHING I was shouting. I need a THRILL. I need to be seen, I need to be heard. I need to EXPLODE. I was intoxicated at the time. Oh how glorious is alcohol. Lifts me right up into BiP high. quite effectively, the only times it doesn't it just puts me to sleep.

So Now I guess it's life after realising the truth about my brain chemicals. And now I see everything quite clearly. For awhile there, just the knowledge of what was going on in my head has been enough to lift me a fraction above normal. I can do this. I can fight this. I am not too bad. I am a responsible adult. I am a mother. My child needs me to beat this.

But it's quite difficult living with the physical symptoms and knowing it can last awhile. I've been very much upriver for the last few weeks. With one or two physical down days. And then this week. I'm physically drained. I feel like a heavy stone thrown in a river. There's no buoyancy at all. I've sunk. I'm right at the bottom. Mentally I am Not depressed. But physically I am tired, drained, and struggling to function.

I hope to get past this within the next week. I need a bit of up. I like Up. Not too high. Not frazzled. Just not so physically tired.

Welcome to my Journey. I need to put it in words in order to figure out myself. I'm trying to find me, keep me and not loose me again. I did that one for a couple of years.

I'm finding me.

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Update