Is there really an answer?

I was browsing through the news websites this morning when I came across this article.

Do you REALLY need antidepressants?

It was quite interesting but unfortunately brief.  Scientists have been analysing brain activity of people who are suffering from depression to determine whether medication or CBT is going to help.

I had a conversation with my doctor the other day asking him about other alternatives to taking medication.  He assured me that if there were anything that was more effective than taking antidepressants then he'd prescribe that.

They say that keeping active, taking exercise, etc helps to heal the mind. Surely on that basis I could get away with not taking my medication?

I'm lucky enough to be able to afford to stay off work. I don't have a job. I have the freedom to do what I need to do to support my recovery.  Why should medication be used to mask any negative feelings people have about their lives? I personally really like my life, I have nothing to hide from and don't want to change anything. I only want to start working towards getting better by volunteering and eventually going back to work.

I'm seeing the doctor on Tuesday and I'm going to have a serious conversation with him about coming off the medication. Who knows....he may just agree. More likely though he'll tell me that it's important to stay on the medication. I do trust my doctor. He's guided me through this whole illness.  Does he necessarily know best over all of the other experts discussing different theories?

My guess is no one truly knows what the most effective solution is.  This modern illness is not good, not healthy. No one really knows what causes it and how to cure it. We can only take a stab in the dark.

sr
x

Liberation comes

I've just come back to a well needed holiday in The Lake District. It was beautiful.  There's something about the power of nature that just restores you.  It seems to energise you and make you feel at peace with yourself.

The size of the hills, the constant water flow; I don't know, it just makes you feel insignificant. To me, that's comforting. It makes me realise how unimportant I am to the functioning of the world as a whole and that no matter what I do, everything will be ok.

I guess it's a kind of strange logic.  Reading back what I've just written almost seems depressing in itself.  It's not though.  I'm not making any self-depreciating remarks or wallowing in self-pity.  Yes, I do have the responsibility to make the most of my life, contribute what I can and enjoy my time on this earth.  Also, though, I don't matter. I don't need to take a great lump of responsibility because no matter what I do, whether it be good or bad, the world won't end.

It's my duty to do the very best I can with my life, but if I don't? It's not really a major problem.

Philosophical? Yes. Liberating? Definately.

sr xx

Food for thought

I've asked a couple of friends to take a look at my blog and see what they think and I've asked them to tell anyone they think it will be relevant.

A very dear friend of mine, who I've been friends with for pretty much 15 years made a very good point to me.  He said that I don't seem to admit in my blog that I am feeling depressed.  I suppose, generally, I do fight against the diagnosis of depression and I try to avoid thinking of myself as depressed because it's a scary thought and just seems so official.

So speculating on this, I need to think about the symptoms of depression and how/when I am feeling 'depressed.' The NHS website seems to have quite a comprehensive list of the symptoms.

Psychological symptoms include:

• continuous low mood or sadness
• feeling hopeless and helpless
• having low self-esteem
• feeling tearful
• feeling guilt-ridden
• feeling irritable and intolerant of others
• having no motivation or interest in things
• finding it difficult to make decisions
• not getting any enjoyment out of life
• feeling anxious or worried
• having suicidal thoughts or thoughts of harming yourself

Physical symptoms include:

• moving or speaking more slowly than usual
• change in appetite or weight (usually decreased, but sometimes increased)  
• unexplained aches and pains
• lack of energy
• disturbed sleep (for example, finding it hard to fall asleep at night or waking up very early in the morning)

Social symptoms include:

• not doing well at work
• taking part in fewer social activities and avoiding contact with friends
• neglecting your hobbies and interests
• having difficulties in your home and family life

So here they are. My opinions?  I have felt very flat at times. This list actually describes very much how I was feeling when I was first signed off. Now though, now I'm better, I'm able to write, so even though I'm still officially suffering from clinical depression, what's the reality?

Psychologically I do still feel low at times and the thought of getting my life back does feel hopeless. I am beginning to feel more confident in myself but that seems to have come about now I actually have the foresight of writing things on the calendar so I don't always have to defer to my partner when arranging activities. Even last week I double booked myself on two days! I feel massive guilt about letting people down, but this has come about since I was signed off work. Decision making, trying to choose coleslaw in the supermarket was impossible in January, but on daily, simple decisions such as what to cook for dinner, I can do this again.  Motivation and lack of interest comes and goes, it's improved. And enjoyment, I'm beginning to appreciate the little things in life.

I won't carry on with listing every single thing and rating myself against it. I can do that in my own time, there's no point boring you with it.

Just reading over it though, it makes me realise how far I've come. I don't think I should class myself as mentally ill any more. I don't suppose really I'm clinically depressed any more. I can cope with my life as it is at the moment. It'll be very interesting to see if I can maintain this if I were to go back to a full time job tomorrow.  The doctor said to me, ages ago, that I will get to the point where I'm functioning well around the house and will be feeling 'normal' when going about my every day life.  He warned me that feeling well again doesn't necessarily mean I'm no longer depressed as I may well not be able to cope with anything more challenging than pottering around and amusing myself for the day.

Here's the question then. If I feel well on a normal day. No longer anxious, sleeping better (albeit the tablets are what's making me sleep!) and my apetite seems to be moving back to something that can be considered normal.  How do you know when to take the plunge back to normal life? How do you then escape from the diagnosis? How to you prove that you are able to work again.

It's like being in purgatory.  I'm ready to move on from this, move forward but I'm stuck in a no-mans-land inbetween being sick and being well.

Definately food for though,

sr x

A job's a job

Well here we are, it's the 24th of the month. The last day of the month will be my final day officially as a teacher.  I haven't stepped foot in a classroom since the beginning of December but officially I'm still a teacher as currently I still have a contract with the school.

That is all about to change.

In some way I am resentful that this condition has robbed me of a job I love but in other ways I am pretty philosophical about it. I can always go back in to the job, or, this is a golden opportunity to persue another avenue.

I am able to anything that I set my mind to and that openended possibility, although daunting, is rather exciting.

I am going in on Saturday to clear out my classroom. It's rather final. A new chapter in my life is about to begin and I'm keen to see where this path is going to lead.

sr x

Shadow makes an appearance

That shadow that lurks.....it's on the back of my mind. It's like a rain cloud on the horizon. It's back.

This is my third day and I'm beginning to despair.

I need to be free of this shadow that hangs over me.

I'm struggling to write this. I keep zoning out. I keep wanting to stop. I simply want to curl up in bed.

Tomorrow will be better, hopefully this afternoon will be better.  I have to keep telling myself this. I have to work hard to keep up the desire to fight.

Sometimes it just feels too much effort. Today is one of those days.

I get angry and frustrated with myself. Why is this happening to me?

The doctor reminds me that some people can get depression due to genetic reasons. I like my life. I am happy with the direction things are going. I wouldn't change anything. So what is it that has made me feel so empty and low?

The easy answer would be to change the things you don't like for things that you do like. But honestly and genuinely I would change nothing.

Tomorrow, I promise, will be better.

sr

The joy of pets

I've been thinking about this for a little while. I was signed off work early December and on 30th December we took a drive to a farm to choose a puppy.

I spent the previous day trawling the internet for adverts for puppies for sale. I duly booked 5 appointments to look at a range of golden, chocolate and black labrador puppies. Having done that in the morning, I took one more quick look in the afternoon and up popped a little of collie x shepherd puppies. I rang and booked an appointment there and then.

Travelling to the first place, I knew that we wouldn't be taking a puppy home that day and that there were lots of things to consider before taking on such a huge responsibility. We had previously discussed getting a puppy and knew we would eventually, it was just a the question about whether the timing was right that we had to settle.

The first place we visited was a working farm. Each time the farmer needed a new working dog he bred a litter and kept the last puppy to stay on the farm.  I fell in love with them straight away. The choice was simple. One dog, after playing and fussing, sat by us and just wouldn't move. We had to take him there and then. We met the mum and dad, aunties, uncles, nan etc. His whole family was on the farm!

Anyway, let's fast forward a little. We were blessed with the most adorable looking puppy.

 



I can't quite decide how much he has helped or hindered my recovery. Each day it was just me and him. At times it was massively overwhelming. He needed to be supervised constantly and house trained.  There were days when I was in floods of tears because I just didn't think he'd be housetrained or yet again he'd pulled the curtains, bitten the sofa, upset the birds and jumped up at the fish tank.

Slowly but surely we've worked through the initial stages of training a puppy. I am now doubly blessed with a caring, loyal, (mostly) obedient and beautiful 7 month old puppy. He seems to have this uncanny understanding of my illness. He knows when I'm having a bad day and will either leave me be or give me lots of cuddles. He gets me out and about. There is some sort of secret club of dog owners. When you have a dog so many people talk to you!

I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't be at this stage of my recovery if it wasn't for him. I'm always being told that exercise helps. I definately get that. He has given me focus, motivation to get up at 7 each morning and a reason to carry on.

The times that he's reduced me to tears seem to pale in significance now. I know he was awful at times. My illness made coping so much more difficult.

But here we are. I have no regrets. He's pushed me forward and for that I am eternally grateful. I will treasure him and give him the best life I possibly can. The bond we have is immense. Right now he is sat at my feet; he is my shadow. In time, he will replace the black, lurking shadow that is my depression.

sr x

Making a plan of action

I feel proud. I've done well. Six months in to recovery and I'm now ready to take the next step forward.

I hate what this illness has done to my confidence. I don't understand things that I used to. I'm more emotionally fragile and my cognitive functions are basically impaired. It's my memory that's probably the most annoying. Probably that or the fact that I don't seem to think things through any more.

It's odd.

Anyway....

Now it's time to get back to normal.

The other half said something interesting the other day. He said he didn't want to start feeling like he's providing for me and I'm sitting on my bum all day doing nothing.  He has a valid point. If he'd have said that 4 weeks ago I would have disagreed. As it stands today, I need to start doing more.

Here's the plan that we've hashed out.

1. I take over all housework (treat it like a part time job).
2. Do some volunteering, share housework.
3. Do some volunteering, I do all housework.
4. Part time volunteering, part time work, share housework.
5. Full time work, share housework.

It'll be a chronological sequence taking as long as I need for each step to build myself back up to full time work.

This thing is a bit of an unknown entity. I don't know anyone who has been this ill with depression and the doctor said I will get to a point where I'm coping with my daily routine but won't yet be ready for more.  This will be a good way to test the bounaries and keep moving my recovery forwards.

I'm happy with this as I know I'll be making progress and my partner will be happy because he knows I'm still working to help myself!

Now let's just see how it goes!

sr x

Picking up the pieces

For the first couple of weeks I was ill, I stayed at home. I wasn't quite wallowing in self-pity but I can't really identify what I was doing. I wasn't eating and certainly wasn't sleeping. I wasn't watching TV, playing computer games or doing housework. I don't think I was really doing anything.

I'd target myself to do a little something each day. Even at that point, though, emptying the dishwasher felt harder than climbing Mount Everest. The most simple of tasks felt so massively overwhelming and through sheer stubborness I would manage to get dressed and showered.

It got to the point where my partner, who I've lived with for 3 years, rang my mum and basically told her to come and get me. He told her that I couldn't be left on my own and needed more care than he was able to give me.  He knew that by being out at work from 6.30 am until 8.00pm at night (including commute) he was unable to make sure I was ok.

I feel sad that it got to the point that he felt I needed supervision. What he must have thought. The worry he must have gone through.

I can't dwell on this though. It's not productive. I spent a couple of weeks at my mum's, basically the two weeks leading up to Christmas. My step-dad is retired and he basically told me when to eat, drink and shower. I could do what I was told but apart from that I would simply would sit in a daze.

Fast-forward six months and I'm beginning to pull myself together. I'm picking up the tatters and am feeling optimistic about the future. I no longer class myself as 'ill' and am definately feeling more myself.

This morning I moved all of our kitchen items from the living room back in to the kitchen. I've managed to cope with the upheaval of workmen refitting the kitchen.  We had planned for me to stay with mum during the work but through some inner strength, lots of stubbornness anxd plenty of support from friends and family, I was able to stay home and 'supervise' the majority of the work.

I've gone from not even being able to empty the dishwasher to sorting out the entire contents of my kitchen cupboards.

I'm proud.

The effort has, so far, been worth it.

And it has been a lot of effort to get this far! I'll keep working hard and who knows where I'll be in six months time!

sr x

Slow going

I guess it's about time to start filling you in about my story.

I was signed off work in December after getting to a point where I said to a friend 'I just can't do it any more'. He drove me straight to the doctors as soon as I said that.  His actions right then, I believe, are the single reason why I ended up asking for help and realising there was a problem.

I think the standard cliche applies; 'things like this never happen to people like me'.

I've thought it, said it, felt it. I still feel an element of failure for having to give up my career but I am beginning to realise that I am not to blame.

I didn't manage to see the doctor that Monday but had a phone call from the duty doctor about an hour after I turned up in the doctor's waiting room. The doctor asked a few questions; how am I eating, sleeping, feeling etc. He told me to take the rest of the week off to get some rest and come in to see him at the end of the week.

The relief was immense. At the time though, I still didn't realise or acknowledge how ill I truely was.

Looking back, it is so obvious that I was at breaking point and really, truely unwell. How did no-one see it?  I do hope I'd be able to identify it if I ever relapse again.

And now, nearly six months on, I'm completely different. So much stronger, more alert.  I'm both eating and sleeping and am now beginning to feel more like myself. It's been a long journey. I'm still fragile. The slightest hint of something unexpected sends me in to a spiral. The illness is forever snapping at my heels, waiting to drag me down, engulf me, at the slightest hiccup.   Only a few weeks ago I was inconsolable because I went to the supermarket to buy pasties and they didn't have any!

This shadow lurks constantly. I will learn to box it up, hide it away. But will this shadow ever cease to exist within me?

sr x