I had a really good November. I won NaNoWriMo with a few days to spare, I was fairly creative and felt quite upbeat, even though I was averaging only 3 hours sleep a day.
We are 5 days into December and I spent the best part of two days in bed. Tuesday I wanted to beat peoples heads in with a sledgehammer so figured it was best to stay out of people's way. There wasn't any person in particular, just a general thing. Wednesday I just felt like I couldn't deal with anything. Others were being all stressy around me and it really didn't help. Monday was only slightly better, and I at least made it to choir practice. I didn't make it to the first Xmas singing thing.. that was Wednesday. Sunday I had a beadie thing, which was ok.
Today is Thursday and I have actually been up and relatively active since 8:30am. It is almost 5pm as I type this. I went out and did a bit of shopping with my man, did some cleaning in our room and did some dishes. And I had a shower and got dressed. In terms of December so far, today is what I would call a really good day.
I was hoping I would keep the momentum of October and November going, but it hasn't happened so far. I'm not going to throw the whole month away. I've had a few bad days, and each day is a fresh day.
At the back of my mind is the knowledge that I won't see my therapist until well into the new year and I think that I am feeling almost abandoned. That could suggest I rely a bit too much on my therapist. And that scares me. What if I have to stop seeing him? What if I have to start with a new therapist and go through all the back story again? It may not be healthy to be so attached to a therapist, but he has helped me so much over the last few years. I seriously wonder if I would still be here if it wasn't for him. I could well be in a mental institution otherwise.
Anyway, onwards we go.
Showing posts with label coping mechanisms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coping mechanisms. Show all posts
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Life, and all that jazz
So I have been a terrible blogger this month, and whilst it isn't entirely true, I will blame NaNoWriMo for my slackness.
I went to see my therapist yesterday and things are looking very positive, even though I have had a really busy month with a lot of emotional stuff going on. I have managed to be the one in control, instead of the depression/anxiety/PTSD being in control. This is huge for me and marks the second month in a row of this being the case. Considering I have been out of control for over 3 years I really cannot state how freaking huge this is.
Onward and upwards.
I went to see my therapist yesterday and things are looking very positive, even though I have had a really busy month with a lot of emotional stuff going on. I have managed to be the one in control, instead of the depression/anxiety/PTSD being in control. This is huge for me and marks the second month in a row of this being the case. Considering I have been out of control for over 3 years I really cannot state how freaking huge this is.
Onward and upwards.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Halfway
We are halfway through November, and that means halfway through NaNoWriMo, which is the main reason I am not really blogging here. I have passed the 30,000 word mark, so I am really pleased with myself.
I have also been really creative this month, which is nice too.
Today hasn't been such a good day though. I'm still in my pjs at 10:30pm and I didn't get out of bed until after the kids got home from school. I'd still be there frankly, if not for my partner. I really didn't want to deal with life today.
I have had a couple of days where I have gotten up early, with the kids, and then wanted to go back to bed but have fought against it, but today bed won the battle.
Anyway, it is only one day. Tomorrow is a new day.
I have also been really creative this month, which is nice too.
Today hasn't been such a good day though. I'm still in my pjs at 10:30pm and I didn't get out of bed until after the kids got home from school. I'd still be there frankly, if not for my partner. I really didn't want to deal with life today.
I have had a couple of days where I have gotten up early, with the kids, and then wanted to go back to bed but have fought against it, but today bed won the battle.
Anyway, it is only one day. Tomorrow is a new day.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Vent or Attack
Today's blog post will be about something that everyone does and has had done to them. Venting. Or are you really attacking your ventee? So let's talk about the difference.
Venting: the offloading of thoughts and feelings about a particular event/experience to a voluntary listener.
Attacking: the offloading of thoughts and feelings about a particular event/experience onto a voluntary listener.
There doesn't seem to be a huge difference, but there is. One is going to make you feel better and give the listener a better understanding of you as a person. The other is going to make you feel powerful and make the listener hate you.
Often when you vent it is hugely emotional. And the way you use language will determine how those emotions are seen by others.
The first thing to remember is not to use 'you' phrases, unless you are looking for a fight. As soon as start using 'you' phrases you are making the vent personal to the listener. And since vents are not usually full of positive feelings, the listener is going to feel attacked. So stick to 'I' phrases. Keep it to how it makes you feel, not how the situation or other people make you feel. For example 'I feel sad', not 'You make me feel sad.' or 'I feel like no one understands' not 'you don't understand'. They may not understand but they aren't going to be interested in learning more if you are attacking them.
Secondly, remember that the person listening to you is doing you a favour. They don't have to listen to you offload, unless they are a counsellor and that is their job. And that is not to say that you can attack your counsellor either. If you want to stay on good terms with this person who chooses to let you vent to them, then respect them.
Thirdly, avoid generalisation. Saying something like 'all women are bitches' is not going to do you any favours and if the listener happens to be a woman you just called her a bitch. And this leads to the fourth thing to remember.
Fourthly, be specific. Vague venting about 'something' is just bitching. If you have a real issue you should be able to define it. What exactly is it that makes you feel the way you do? 'People are being mean to me' is a vague statement. Which people? What exactly are they doing that makes you feel they are being mean? Without specifics it is very hard to find solutions to issues.
And lastly, be clear that you are venting. Many people when hearing a person offload their feelings try to find a solution, especially many males. Right from the start make it clear that you are venting and that you aren't looking for solutions or answers, you just need to get it off your chest and clear your head. And be sure to thank the listener for giving you their time.
By doing these things you will find that venting becomes cathartic and really does help you to define your feelings and helps you figure out for yourself where to go from here. It can also help strengthen relationships and lead to a deeper understanding.
Happy Venting
Venting: the offloading of thoughts and feelings about a particular event/experience to a voluntary listener.
Attacking: the offloading of thoughts and feelings about a particular event/experience onto a voluntary listener.
There doesn't seem to be a huge difference, but there is. One is going to make you feel better and give the listener a better understanding of you as a person. The other is going to make you feel powerful and make the listener hate you.
Often when you vent it is hugely emotional. And the way you use language will determine how those emotions are seen by others.
The first thing to remember is not to use 'you' phrases, unless you are looking for a fight. As soon as start using 'you' phrases you are making the vent personal to the listener. And since vents are not usually full of positive feelings, the listener is going to feel attacked. So stick to 'I' phrases. Keep it to how it makes you feel, not how the situation or other people make you feel. For example 'I feel sad', not 'You make me feel sad.' or 'I feel like no one understands' not 'you don't understand'. They may not understand but they aren't going to be interested in learning more if you are attacking them.
Secondly, remember that the person listening to you is doing you a favour. They don't have to listen to you offload, unless they are a counsellor and that is their job. And that is not to say that you can attack your counsellor either. If you want to stay on good terms with this person who chooses to let you vent to them, then respect them.
Thirdly, avoid generalisation. Saying something like 'all women are bitches' is not going to do you any favours and if the listener happens to be a woman you just called her a bitch. And this leads to the fourth thing to remember.
Fourthly, be specific. Vague venting about 'something' is just bitching. If you have a real issue you should be able to define it. What exactly is it that makes you feel the way you do? 'People are being mean to me' is a vague statement. Which people? What exactly are they doing that makes you feel they are being mean? Without specifics it is very hard to find solutions to issues.
And lastly, be clear that you are venting. Many people when hearing a person offload their feelings try to find a solution, especially many males. Right from the start make it clear that you are venting and that you aren't looking for solutions or answers, you just need to get it off your chest and clear your head. And be sure to thank the listener for giving you their time.
By doing these things you will find that venting becomes cathartic and really does help you to define your feelings and helps you figure out for yourself where to go from here. It can also help strengthen relationships and lead to a deeper understanding.
Happy Venting
Monday, November 4, 2013
Celebrating with Sorrow
Yesterday would have been the 39th birthday of my best friend, my soul sister. For the benefit of this 'anonymous' blog I will call her Izzy.
Izzy was my friend for many years, we were very different, but came from similar backgrounds. She saw me being abused, and was abused herself by Griff. She was the only one who truly knew what I was going through, and she stuck by me through it all. She had issues of her own at home, and I supported her through it all as well.
As we got older our lives began to diverge. She had a baby a few days after she turned 15, got involved with a rough crowd and ended up addicted to heroin. It was this drug that took her life just over 3 years ago. This was the point at which my own life fell in a hole. I have struggled so much to accept that she is gone. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her.
And I have regrets. Things I wish I had done or said. But I know I cannot change any of that and for my own benefit I have to accept that she has died. She still lives in my heart and my mind, but I can never again hug her and have some random conversation. And that hurts. A lot.
So yesterday I decided that her birthday deserves to be acknowledged. She deserves to be remembered and not pushed aside because of her passing. I baked a cake and celebrated her birthday with my family.
Izzy might be gone, but she is not forgotten and she never will be.
Izzy was my friend for many years, we were very different, but came from similar backgrounds. She saw me being abused, and was abused herself by Griff. She was the only one who truly knew what I was going through, and she stuck by me through it all. She had issues of her own at home, and I supported her through it all as well.
As we got older our lives began to diverge. She had a baby a few days after she turned 15, got involved with a rough crowd and ended up addicted to heroin. It was this drug that took her life just over 3 years ago. This was the point at which my own life fell in a hole. I have struggled so much to accept that she is gone. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her.
And I have regrets. Things I wish I had done or said. But I know I cannot change any of that and for my own benefit I have to accept that she has died. She still lives in my heart and my mind, but I can never again hug her and have some random conversation. And that hurts. A lot.
So yesterday I decided that her birthday deserves to be acknowledged. She deserves to be remembered and not pushed aside because of her passing. I baked a cake and celebrated her birthday with my family.
Izzy might be gone, but she is not forgotten and she never will be.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Oct 31 2013
October draws to a close and November looms. For the second year I am attempting NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writers Month. It is a personal challenge to write a 50,000 word book in 30 days. I completed it last year, and have high hopes to do so again.
Last year I wrote a pretty smutty romance, but this year I'm thinking of trying to write something with a bit more depth. The main thing with NaNo is not to get hung up on rewriting or reworking sections, just let the words flow. To successfully complete it you need to write around 2000 words a day, which doesn't sound like much until you try to do it!
I am hoping that November is on the whole positive, as October was. If I was to take my mood for the last two day as a barometer then it will be a pretty shit month, but I'm not going to do that. I may have spent the best part of the last two days in bed, but that doesn't mean it has to be like that for the whole month.
Part of dealing with mental illness is not letting the bad days colour the good days. You have to accept that you've had a bad day or two, but that that is ok. Tomorrow is a new day. The next hour is a new hour. The next minute is a new minute.
So bring on November.
Last year I wrote a pretty smutty romance, but this year I'm thinking of trying to write something with a bit more depth. The main thing with NaNo is not to get hung up on rewriting or reworking sections, just let the words flow. To successfully complete it you need to write around 2000 words a day, which doesn't sound like much until you try to do it!
I am hoping that November is on the whole positive, as October was. If I was to take my mood for the last two day as a barometer then it will be a pretty shit month, but I'm not going to do that. I may have spent the best part of the last two days in bed, but that doesn't mean it has to be like that for the whole month.
Part of dealing with mental illness is not letting the bad days colour the good days. You have to accept that you've had a bad day or two, but that that is ok. Tomorrow is a new day. The next hour is a new hour. The next minute is a new minute.
So bring on November.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Oct 28 2013
Today was counselling day. This is like a spring cleaning day. I offload a month or so's worth of accumulated stuff, epiphanies, thoughts, feelings etc. I really think I'm getting a handle on things. It's not great, it's not even close to 'normal' but it's progress and that is the most important thing.
Today I am feeling positive, even if nature has decided to hurl all it's assorted weapons at me in the last three weeks.. flu, gastro and monthlies. Oh it is sooooo much fun! And I want to stay positive today, so there is no deep and meaningful, no spewing forth of 'stuff'. Just a 'hello, I'm here' and a smile.
Today I am feeling positive, even if nature has decided to hurl all it's assorted weapons at me in the last three weeks.. flu, gastro and monthlies. Oh it is sooooo much fun! And I want to stay positive today, so there is no deep and meaningful, no spewing forth of 'stuff'. Just a 'hello, I'm here' and a smile.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Friday, October 18, 2013
Thursday, October 17, 2013
17 Oct 2013
I didn't blog yesterday.
Something happened and there was a rush of relief, then some anger, then more relief, then .. well it has been a bit up and down.
You might remember I said that one of my sons had been accused of a serious crime. Yesterday he was found not guilty on all charges. It has been almost 12 months since he was initially charged. 12 long months of doubt, and fear, and stress and a myriad of other emotions. The problem was that he didn't know if he had committed the crime. He admits to being very intoxicated at the time. And someone else took advantage of this, and used it against him by accusing him of a despicable act against another human being. They have spent the last year continuing on the farce, dragging him through the mud and putting him through hell.
My son is no angel, and you will never hear me say he is, but he didn't deserve this. He has made lots of mistakes and made life choices that I don't agree with, but he didn't deserve this. And even though he was found not guilty he will bear the scars of this for a lifetime, that someone thought so little of him as a human being that they could do this without remorse.
I truly hope he can move past this and have the life that he deserves, one filled with happiness and fulfillment.
Something happened and there was a rush of relief, then some anger, then more relief, then .. well it has been a bit up and down.
You might remember I said that one of my sons had been accused of a serious crime. Yesterday he was found not guilty on all charges. It has been almost 12 months since he was initially charged. 12 long months of doubt, and fear, and stress and a myriad of other emotions. The problem was that he didn't know if he had committed the crime. He admits to being very intoxicated at the time. And someone else took advantage of this, and used it against him by accusing him of a despicable act against another human being. They have spent the last year continuing on the farce, dragging him through the mud and putting him through hell.
My son is no angel, and you will never hear me say he is, but he didn't deserve this. He has made lots of mistakes and made life choices that I don't agree with, but he didn't deserve this. And even though he was found not guilty he will bear the scars of this for a lifetime, that someone thought so little of him as a human being that they could do this without remorse.
I truly hope he can move past this and have the life that he deserves, one filled with happiness and fulfillment.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Oct 15 2013
Not going to be blogging much today. Yesterday's blog brought up a lot of stuff and I have spent a lot of today trying to process it and take the next step forward. However I do have one thing to say.
If you know someone with depression or PTSD or any other mental illness and they make a move to socialise, even in the tiniest of ways, be sure to acknowledge them. When you are feeling low and you reach out for human contact (physical or verbal or written) and noone reaches back it makes you feel even more alone, more unhappy and tends to make you feel like it isn't worth reaching out. The more it happens the further back the sufferer drops until it is very hard for them to even make the attempt.
So if someone reaches out to you, grab hold of their hand and walk with them a while, let them know they are important, special, wanted.
If you know someone with depression or PTSD or any other mental illness and they make a move to socialise, even in the tiniest of ways, be sure to acknowledge them. When you are feeling low and you reach out for human contact (physical or verbal or written) and noone reaches back it makes you feel even more alone, more unhappy and tends to make you feel like it isn't worth reaching out. The more it happens the further back the sufferer drops until it is very hard for them to even make the attempt.
So if someone reaches out to you, grab hold of their hand and walk with them a while, let them know they are important, special, wanted.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Oct 14 2013
Bloody hell my ears are giving me the irrits!
Nevertheless, today I soldiered on (without Codral) and did some baking. I also had a shower, got dressed and let the house (under slight protest.. it wasn't in my plans for the day). But when I made my plans I didn't realise I didn't have enough eggs for my proposed baking.
I actually feel relatively good, which is nice, however I am aware of a fairly high level of dissociation.
My son, the one who allegedly committed a very serious crime, has been uncontactable for a bit. I have had two phone calls from his case manager. It would appear that he left the youth shelter he was at and is sleeping rough. It is difficult on many levels. On one level I want to 'save' him, but I know he has to want to be saved. Up until recently he was following along with his major obligations regarding his bail, but in the last week he would appear to have thrown it all out the window. On another level I know I have to step back, he is legally an adult and as far as he is concerned I have no say in his life.
It hurts to be a parent, for a lot of people. The strain and upset that familial issues cause is often a trigger for me, leading me into depressive episodes, anxiety attacks and sometimes full blown meltdowns. So far in the last couple of weeks I have avoided these things, even whilst being ill (which reduces your resistance normally) and I know that it is because I am dissociating from it in order to protect myself.
I don't like dissociating, it took me a long time to break the habit when it first became apparent. At that time I had basically been dissociated almost permanently for more than 10 years. It contributed to my marriage breaking down, and before that to an inability to form good relationships. 9 years ago I first started seeing my current therapist and he was the one who pulled me back, or helped me pull myself back. Learning to manage my emotions was a hard road after not dealing with them for so long. I would make comments like 'how do you people deal with all this emotion, its so hard'. I was virtually robotic for so long it was like learning to be human again.
Learning to deal with emotions again allowed my man and I to rebuild our relationship (there were other issues as well). Not many people get a second chance, but we did.
So for a few years I was almost 'normal', to the point I stopped having therapy and things were going quite well. And then my best friend died. She had been by my side through a lot of my abuse, and was also abused by Griff as well. She was like a sister to me and the pain of her death tore me apart. Then one of my son's friends committed suicide, a former doctor committed suicide too (he was a staunch supporter of mental health issues, yet didn't deal with his own), another friend got murdered and a long time family friend died suddenly. All this happened in the space of about 6 months, as well as some other fairly unpleasant stuff.
I wasn't mentally equipped to deal with such a massive onslaught of trauma and it led to where I am now. The trauma of my childhood became tied to all this new trauma, especially because of my best friend. We had banded together to bring Griff to justice, and after she died I wanted to get justice for her as well as myself. When Griff was 'spared' I was devastated. The trauma he put us through was one of the reasons behind her death. She never learnt to deal with it and she began escaping via drugs and alcohol. At first it was just dope and a bit of ecstasy, but eventually she became addicted to heroin.
She used to joke that I was her only 'straight' friend, and nothing I could say, nor nothing she experienced with friends overdosing was ever quite enough for her to quit completely. She tried lots of times, she was even on the methodone program for a while. But in the end the demons were stronger than she was. I'm not sure she intended to kill herself, but I know at the time of her death she had just suffered a betrayal, and it may well have been the final straw.
I still haven't really come to terms with her being gone, and it has been 3 years. I see her face on my facebook page sometimes, I don't have the heart to remove her. I can think of her and smile now, but I still cry inside.
The fact that drugs took her life makes what my son is doing even harder to endure. He swears he will never touch harder drugs than dope, but I have heard that before. I truly hope he is stronger than his demons. I already have one scar on my heart that will never heal, I do not want another.
Nevertheless, today I soldiered on (without Codral) and did some baking. I also had a shower, got dressed and let the house (under slight protest.. it wasn't in my plans for the day). But when I made my plans I didn't realise I didn't have enough eggs for my proposed baking.
I actually feel relatively good, which is nice, however I am aware of a fairly high level of dissociation.
My son, the one who allegedly committed a very serious crime, has been uncontactable for a bit. I have had two phone calls from his case manager. It would appear that he left the youth shelter he was at and is sleeping rough. It is difficult on many levels. On one level I want to 'save' him, but I know he has to want to be saved. Up until recently he was following along with his major obligations regarding his bail, but in the last week he would appear to have thrown it all out the window. On another level I know I have to step back, he is legally an adult and as far as he is concerned I have no say in his life.
It hurts to be a parent, for a lot of people. The strain and upset that familial issues cause is often a trigger for me, leading me into depressive episodes, anxiety attacks and sometimes full blown meltdowns. So far in the last couple of weeks I have avoided these things, even whilst being ill (which reduces your resistance normally) and I know that it is because I am dissociating from it in order to protect myself.
I don't like dissociating, it took me a long time to break the habit when it first became apparent. At that time I had basically been dissociated almost permanently for more than 10 years. It contributed to my marriage breaking down, and before that to an inability to form good relationships. 9 years ago I first started seeing my current therapist and he was the one who pulled me back, or helped me pull myself back. Learning to manage my emotions was a hard road after not dealing with them for so long. I would make comments like 'how do you people deal with all this emotion, its so hard'. I was virtually robotic for so long it was like learning to be human again.
Learning to deal with emotions again allowed my man and I to rebuild our relationship (there were other issues as well). Not many people get a second chance, but we did.
So for a few years I was almost 'normal', to the point I stopped having therapy and things were going quite well. And then my best friend died. She had been by my side through a lot of my abuse, and was also abused by Griff as well. She was like a sister to me and the pain of her death tore me apart. Then one of my son's friends committed suicide, a former doctor committed suicide too (he was a staunch supporter of mental health issues, yet didn't deal with his own), another friend got murdered and a long time family friend died suddenly. All this happened in the space of about 6 months, as well as some other fairly unpleasant stuff.
I wasn't mentally equipped to deal with such a massive onslaught of trauma and it led to where I am now. The trauma of my childhood became tied to all this new trauma, especially because of my best friend. We had banded together to bring Griff to justice, and after she died I wanted to get justice for her as well as myself. When Griff was 'spared' I was devastated. The trauma he put us through was one of the reasons behind her death. She never learnt to deal with it and she began escaping via drugs and alcohol. At first it was just dope and a bit of ecstasy, but eventually she became addicted to heroin.
She used to joke that I was her only 'straight' friend, and nothing I could say, nor nothing she experienced with friends overdosing was ever quite enough for her to quit completely. She tried lots of times, she was even on the methodone program for a while. But in the end the demons were stronger than she was. I'm not sure she intended to kill herself, but I know at the time of her death she had just suffered a betrayal, and it may well have been the final straw.
I still haven't really come to terms with her being gone, and it has been 3 years. I see her face on my facebook page sometimes, I don't have the heart to remove her. I can think of her and smile now, but I still cry inside.
The fact that drugs took her life makes what my son is doing even harder to endure. He swears he will never touch harder drugs than dope, but I have heard that before. I truly hope he is stronger than his demons. I already have one scar on my heart that will never heal, I do not want another.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Oct 11 2013
It is late in the day, an hour before the witching hour. I'm tired, but I know when I go to bed I won't sleep. My man is not home tonight. Sometimes you take it for granted that people are there, and it isn't until they aren't there that you realise how much you come to rely on them.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, I do realise how much I rely on my support network, which is made up of my man, my kids and my mum. My man is my rock, my go to guy when I need a hug or a shoulder. I hate it when he isn't here at night. I have enough issues with sleep without the anxiety that comes from him not being here.
When you feel anxious things are multiplied or exaggerated. The sound of the wind in the trees becomes something to fear. Leaves blowing across the ground sound like footsteps. Moths fluttering against the window screens sounds like knives cutting. The creak of the house settling is someone breaking in. And my kids look to me to be brave and in control and inside I am freaking out.
This is where my mastery of dissociating comes in. On the outside I look perfectly calm, in control, confident. On the inside I am a screaming mass of goo.
Some would say that it is 'faking it until you make it', but it isn't. It is putting on a mask for the sake those who are innocent. Whilst my older kids know about my illness, and to a certain extent the cause of it, my youngest child has no idea. She is protected from it by those around her. We strive to maintain as much of her innocence as we can. There will be plenty of time for her to be a grown up later on.
The older kids know varying amounts, mainly due to their personalities. We try not to burden them, but they also need to be aware of things like triggers. My illness isn't their fault, but it does impact their lives. My oldest kids knew me before my PTSD became debilitating (delayed onset is normal with PTSD). They remember when mummy used to do most of the cooking, cleaning, washing, ran a business, created every day, studied and was basically superwoman. I am a very different person now. It is a good day if I cook dinner, or bake bread, or do washing, or create, or get out of bed before noon, or get dressed etc.
I really hope that they see that I am taking steps to deal with my illness. I take my meds, I get regular therapy, I make the most of good days. I hope they see that mental illness doesn't make you a bad person, or a lazy person. I hope they grow up with compassion towards those with mental illness, and that if they ever find themselves suffering that they know that help is available, that there are things you can do.
On a bright note, I got out of bed today, got dressed and made bread. :)
Unfortunately, or fortunately, I do realise how much I rely on my support network, which is made up of my man, my kids and my mum. My man is my rock, my go to guy when I need a hug or a shoulder. I hate it when he isn't here at night. I have enough issues with sleep without the anxiety that comes from him not being here.
When you feel anxious things are multiplied or exaggerated. The sound of the wind in the trees becomes something to fear. Leaves blowing across the ground sound like footsteps. Moths fluttering against the window screens sounds like knives cutting. The creak of the house settling is someone breaking in. And my kids look to me to be brave and in control and inside I am freaking out.
This is where my mastery of dissociating comes in. On the outside I look perfectly calm, in control, confident. On the inside I am a screaming mass of goo.
Some would say that it is 'faking it until you make it', but it isn't. It is putting on a mask for the sake those who are innocent. Whilst my older kids know about my illness, and to a certain extent the cause of it, my youngest child has no idea. She is protected from it by those around her. We strive to maintain as much of her innocence as we can. There will be plenty of time for her to be a grown up later on.
The older kids know varying amounts, mainly due to their personalities. We try not to burden them, but they also need to be aware of things like triggers. My illness isn't their fault, but it does impact their lives. My oldest kids knew me before my PTSD became debilitating (delayed onset is normal with PTSD). They remember when mummy used to do most of the cooking, cleaning, washing, ran a business, created every day, studied and was basically superwoman. I am a very different person now. It is a good day if I cook dinner, or bake bread, or do washing, or create, or get out of bed before noon, or get dressed etc.
I really hope that they see that I am taking steps to deal with my illness. I take my meds, I get regular therapy, I make the most of good days. I hope they see that mental illness doesn't make you a bad person, or a lazy person. I hope they grow up with compassion towards those with mental illness, and that if they ever find themselves suffering that they know that help is available, that there are things you can do.
On a bright note, I got out of bed today, got dressed and made bread. :)
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Oct 10 2013
Today has been a good day. I am still recovering from the flu, so I slept until about 1pm. But then I got up and had a shower and got dressed. I spent most of the shower coughing up a lung, and felt a bit shaky and tired after, but much better than I had done for several days. I even washed my hair!
Then my mum and I had a girly afternoon..of a sort. I was completely exhausted when we got home, but at least I got out of the house.
These random days of 'brightness' are what make you continue on when you have PTSD/anxiety/depression. They are what remind you that there is something different out there. Unfortunately the illness is such that often these good days are overshadowed and ignored or used by those outside of the situation as proof of a lack of a problem. They will say things like 'oh, so you are having a good day' in such a way that you end up feeling guilty that you dared to have a good day whilst claiming to be depressed.
Many people who haven't had clinical depression think that it is like when they are a bit sad. But it isn't. I have days when I'm a bit sad, and I had them before I descended into hell. There is a vast difference.
A bit sad doesn't make every bone in your body ache.
A bit sad doesn't remove the colour from everything around you.
A bit sad doesn't make you wish you didn't exist.
A bit sad doesn't make you feel alone in a room full of people.
A bit sad doesn't make your bed your best friend.
A bit sad doesn't hang around when everything is going great in your life.
And that is the crux of it. Depression is being miserable on the happiest day of your life, when everything is going great, when you are successful, when you have tonnes of friends and everything going your way. Depression is not a symptom of your lifestyle. People who have nothing, who struggle every day, do not always end up with depression. Nor does money and success shield you from the possibility of getting depression. Depression is an illness that can strike anyone, anywhere, at any time.
Today happens to be World Mental Health Day. It is ironic that we have a world day for it, and yet it is still an illness with a lot of stigma, that many do not understand. And it isn't their fault they don't understand. Many sufferers of depression do not really understand either.
I am a highly logical, analytical, intelligent and educated adult. This illness doesn't 'make sense' to me in so many ways. I have struggled to accept that I have PTSD/depression/anxiety. I cannot understand how everything can be really positive around me and yet I feel miserable, anxious, exhausted and hopeless. The day I realised that my illness isn't a symptom of my life, but an actual illness was a light bulb day. It hasn't magically made it go away, and it hasn't made it any easier, but it has helped me not be so hard on myself.
Sufferers are often their own worst enemy. They think they should be fine, or happy or whatever, and instead of being kind to themselves they will beat themselves up (emotionally/psychologically) which makes matters worse. The internal dialogue of a depression/mental illness sufferer can be one of the most damaging things in their lives. And if anyone in their lives says anything similar, due to a lack of understanding or compassion, then the sufferer will take this as a conformation of their own worst thoughts.
So if you know someone who has any sort of mental illness, be compassionate, let them know that their illness doesn't define them, that you love/like them just the same regardless. Don't pity them, don't undermine them and for God's sake never ever tell them to 'just get over it.'
Then my mum and I had a girly afternoon..of a sort. I was completely exhausted when we got home, but at least I got out of the house.
These random days of 'brightness' are what make you continue on when you have PTSD/anxiety/depression. They are what remind you that there is something different out there. Unfortunately the illness is such that often these good days are overshadowed and ignored or used by those outside of the situation as proof of a lack of a problem. They will say things like 'oh, so you are having a good day' in such a way that you end up feeling guilty that you dared to have a good day whilst claiming to be depressed.
Many people who haven't had clinical depression think that it is like when they are a bit sad. But it isn't. I have days when I'm a bit sad, and I had them before I descended into hell. There is a vast difference.
A bit sad doesn't make every bone in your body ache.
A bit sad doesn't remove the colour from everything around you.
A bit sad doesn't make you wish you didn't exist.
A bit sad doesn't make you feel alone in a room full of people.
A bit sad doesn't make your bed your best friend.
A bit sad doesn't hang around when everything is going great in your life.
And that is the crux of it. Depression is being miserable on the happiest day of your life, when everything is going great, when you are successful, when you have tonnes of friends and everything going your way. Depression is not a symptom of your lifestyle. People who have nothing, who struggle every day, do not always end up with depression. Nor does money and success shield you from the possibility of getting depression. Depression is an illness that can strike anyone, anywhere, at any time.
Today happens to be World Mental Health Day. It is ironic that we have a world day for it, and yet it is still an illness with a lot of stigma, that many do not understand. And it isn't their fault they don't understand. Many sufferers of depression do not really understand either.
I am a highly logical, analytical, intelligent and educated adult. This illness doesn't 'make sense' to me in so many ways. I have struggled to accept that I have PTSD/depression/anxiety. I cannot understand how everything can be really positive around me and yet I feel miserable, anxious, exhausted and hopeless. The day I realised that my illness isn't a symptom of my life, but an actual illness was a light bulb day. It hasn't magically made it go away, and it hasn't made it any easier, but it has helped me not be so hard on myself.
Sufferers are often their own worst enemy. They think they should be fine, or happy or whatever, and instead of being kind to themselves they will beat themselves up (emotionally/psychologically) which makes matters worse. The internal dialogue of a depression/mental illness sufferer can be one of the most damaging things in their lives. And if anyone in their lives says anything similar, due to a lack of understanding or compassion, then the sufferer will take this as a conformation of their own worst thoughts.
So if you know someone who has any sort of mental illness, be compassionate, let them know that their illness doesn't define them, that you love/like them just the same regardless. Don't pity them, don't undermine them and for God's sake never ever tell them to 'just get over it.'
Monday, October 7, 2013
Oct 7 2013
I have the flu. But I 'feel' ok otherwise.
My daughter is the age now that I was when my abuse started. I sometimes look at her and compare her to how I was then. I was quite sheltered growing up. Sex wasn't something that was every discussed, at least not around me. I didn't really know how babies were made, and as the youngest in my family I hadn't ever seen my mum pregnant which often leads to questions on reproduction. The watching of TV was highly regulated in our house, no TV until the news came on at night after my Dad got home from work. The only time the TV went on during the day was if you were home sick from school, or if motor racing or cricket was on on the weekend. We didn't watch violent programs. I had a steady diet of The Muppets, Young Talent Time and The Goodies. We also didn't have the kind of computer games that my kids have access to. We did have an Atari at one point with Pong on it. We spent a lot of time outside, playing cricket in the street or riding up and down the road. We felt safe, secure, comfortable.
My daughter has seen violent programs (not on purpose usually), one of her favourite movies is Alien (she is a bit weird LOL). She has heard lots of cussing, she plays video games like Fable and Halo. She is quite a bit younger than her brothers, 7 years younger than the youngest of them and as a result she has been exposed to things I hadn't been at the same age. My eldest brother is only 5 years older than me. So she and her brothers have had lots of information about age appropriate behaviours and language. She knows that shows with sex and lots of violence are not appropriate for her to watch. In fact she will come and tell us if her brothers are watching something that she shouldn't see. Due to my own background I have also talked to her about telling me or another safe adult if anyone tries to make her do something that makes her feel uncomfortable or that involves her girl parts.
She doesn't have the innocence that I had. It some ways that makes me sad, in others it makes me hope more that she would kick up a stink if anyone tried on her what was done to me. I hope it never happens, with all my heart, unfortunately I cannot help but fear that it might. I watch unknown people around her, I cringe when older men start talking to her. But somehow I have managed to keep the majority of my fear to myself. She is not the type to jump at shadows, is gregarious and friendly, whilst being very definite about what she will put up with.
Comparing myself to her I can see that I was much much much less equipped to deal with the abuse that occurred than she would be, and she isn't equipped for it. Maybe it isn't a surprise that it has affected my life so much.
My daughter is the age now that I was when my abuse started. I sometimes look at her and compare her to how I was then. I was quite sheltered growing up. Sex wasn't something that was every discussed, at least not around me. I didn't really know how babies were made, and as the youngest in my family I hadn't ever seen my mum pregnant which often leads to questions on reproduction. The watching of TV was highly regulated in our house, no TV until the news came on at night after my Dad got home from work. The only time the TV went on during the day was if you were home sick from school, or if motor racing or cricket was on on the weekend. We didn't watch violent programs. I had a steady diet of The Muppets, Young Talent Time and The Goodies. We also didn't have the kind of computer games that my kids have access to. We did have an Atari at one point with Pong on it. We spent a lot of time outside, playing cricket in the street or riding up and down the road. We felt safe, secure, comfortable.
My daughter has seen violent programs (not on purpose usually), one of her favourite movies is Alien (she is a bit weird LOL). She has heard lots of cussing, she plays video games like Fable and Halo. She is quite a bit younger than her brothers, 7 years younger than the youngest of them and as a result she has been exposed to things I hadn't been at the same age. My eldest brother is only 5 years older than me. So she and her brothers have had lots of information about age appropriate behaviours and language. She knows that shows with sex and lots of violence are not appropriate for her to watch. In fact she will come and tell us if her brothers are watching something that she shouldn't see. Due to my own background I have also talked to her about telling me or another safe adult if anyone tries to make her do something that makes her feel uncomfortable or that involves her girl parts.
She doesn't have the innocence that I had. It some ways that makes me sad, in others it makes me hope more that she would kick up a stink if anyone tried on her what was done to me. I hope it never happens, with all my heart, unfortunately I cannot help but fear that it might. I watch unknown people around her, I cringe when older men start talking to her. But somehow I have managed to keep the majority of my fear to myself. She is not the type to jump at shadows, is gregarious and friendly, whilst being very definite about what she will put up with.
Comparing myself to her I can see that I was much much much less equipped to deal with the abuse that occurred than she would be, and she isn't equipped for it. Maybe it isn't a surprise that it has affected my life so much.
Friday, October 4, 2013
Oct 4 2013
Today I can feel myself peeking through the dark shroud that currently surrounds me. This may well be largely due to seeing my amazing counsellor yesterday.
My counsellor is the kind who doesn't pull his punches and I have been his patient for about 9 years on and off. Funnily enough when I first starting seeing him I wasn't anywhere near as bad as I am now, which is one of the curious things with PTSD. It has a kind of delayed onset. Back then I was seeing him predominantly for depression.
One of the first things he ever said to me that had a huge impact was to 'get a life'. Some may think that is a bit offense coming from a therapist but he wasn't being mean. I was living vicariously through my sons and he was telling me to live my own life. It was after a few sessions with him that I started at TAFE (like community college, for those not in Australia) and filed charges against my abuser. That's right, I originally filed 9 years ago. That is how long the system took.
Anyway.
I see my therapist about once a month and I am lucky that I don't have to pay for the service. I probably wouldn't be able to afford to even have therapy otherwise, which would frankly be a disaster for my family. When I'm having a rough time I will count the days until the next appointment. I then spend an hour spewing out thoughts and feelings and events and everything. He gets told the things that I can't tell anyone else. It's not that I don't talk to my partner, but there are things he doesn't need to know, and doesn't want to know, about my past.
My partner's anger towards my abuser is a palpable thing. He finds it really hard sometimes. I don't blame him, I find it really hard. But he supports me so much. He does his best to be understanding of me and my moods. I find it hard to live with myself so I can only imagine what it is like for those around me.
I wasn't this bad a few years ago. Looking back I can see that things really took a turn for the worst when my best friend died from a drug overdose. She had been abused by my abuser as well. She had joined me when I pressed charges. I lived in a fog for a year after she died, a fog compounded by the suicide of one of my kids' friends and one of my doctors, the murder of an online friend and the death of a long time family friend all in a short space of time. At the point all this hit I was a relatively successful artisan selling online with lots of drive and motivation. In less than a year that all changed.
My business pretty much went into hiatus, my mojo went on an extended vacation and all the old demons came back. The biggest difference was that I wasn't dissociating anywhere near as much as I used to, which meant I felt the pain a lot more and found it a lot harder to deal with. Around the same time we started to have some serious issues with one of our sons, issues that led to a lot of tension and unpleasantness.
So fast forward to now and I am at a standstill, encased in a shroud of darkness where the moments of joy, lightness and sunshine are rare and beautiful things. No longer are day to day things trivial. Every moment that you feel 'ok' is a big deal, because they don't last very long.
People think it is amusing when someone says 'well I got dressed today'. For someone with severe PTSD/depression/anxiety this is a major achievement some days. Hell, getting out of bed is a freaking miracle. It is not unknown for me to spend more than 20 hours in bed, only getting up to pee and maybe find something to eat, preferably chocolate.
We have codes in our house now. If I end up 'in the closet', then I have reached meltdown point. I literally sit inside our walk-in robe in the dark, often rocking back and forth and howling. It is a good month if I don't end up in the closet. It is a great month if I don't even come close to that. I've had two months of no closet time. I've come close a few times, but frankly my partner has caught me before I fell. So instead of going in the closet I just lay in bed and howled and then slept. That is usually the step after the closet.. so I will take it as progress.
Our other code is my ipod. If I have my ipod plugs in my ears then I am wordlessly telling everyone that I am not coping. This happens a lot if the house gets noisy (not unusual with 4 kids at home). Too much noise means anxiety, my filter doesn't work so well these days. So I drown it out with music. I'll often be on the computer whilst wearing the ipod. It's like I don't want to deal with everything, but I also don't want to be shut away in the bedroom.
The last code is the bedroom door. I will often go and sit in bed and watch Dr Who or cakey shows (my daughter's term for shows like Cake Boss and ChoccyWoccyDooDah). If I leave the door open I am 'still available', if the door is shut it means 'fuck off'.
6 year olds don't do codes and my daughter will ignore all indicators that mum is in a bad place. But I don't yell at her, I usually give her a hug and she curls up next to me and we watch tv together. My illness is not her fault, or her problem. It is hard to be a parent and be mentally ill. In fact some think you cannot be both. I know people who have had kids taken away because they are ill. I'm lucky I have a support (my partner and my mum), but frankly without my kids I would be worse. They are proof that I can do great things.
Well, that was a huge ramble. Today is actually a pretty good day, even if I have only had a few hours of sleep. I'm the kind of tired that hurts, but my mind feels 'ok' today. I will make the most of it.
My counsellor is the kind who doesn't pull his punches and I have been his patient for about 9 years on and off. Funnily enough when I first starting seeing him I wasn't anywhere near as bad as I am now, which is one of the curious things with PTSD. It has a kind of delayed onset. Back then I was seeing him predominantly for depression.
One of the first things he ever said to me that had a huge impact was to 'get a life'. Some may think that is a bit offense coming from a therapist but he wasn't being mean. I was living vicariously through my sons and he was telling me to live my own life. It was after a few sessions with him that I started at TAFE (like community college, for those not in Australia) and filed charges against my abuser. That's right, I originally filed 9 years ago. That is how long the system took.
Anyway.
I see my therapist about once a month and I am lucky that I don't have to pay for the service. I probably wouldn't be able to afford to even have therapy otherwise, which would frankly be a disaster for my family. When I'm having a rough time I will count the days until the next appointment. I then spend an hour spewing out thoughts and feelings and events and everything. He gets told the things that I can't tell anyone else. It's not that I don't talk to my partner, but there are things he doesn't need to know, and doesn't want to know, about my past.
My partner's anger towards my abuser is a palpable thing. He finds it really hard sometimes. I don't blame him, I find it really hard. But he supports me so much. He does his best to be understanding of me and my moods. I find it hard to live with myself so I can only imagine what it is like for those around me.
I wasn't this bad a few years ago. Looking back I can see that things really took a turn for the worst when my best friend died from a drug overdose. She had been abused by my abuser as well. She had joined me when I pressed charges. I lived in a fog for a year after she died, a fog compounded by the suicide of one of my kids' friends and one of my doctors, the murder of an online friend and the death of a long time family friend all in a short space of time. At the point all this hit I was a relatively successful artisan selling online with lots of drive and motivation. In less than a year that all changed.
My business pretty much went into hiatus, my mojo went on an extended vacation and all the old demons came back. The biggest difference was that I wasn't dissociating anywhere near as much as I used to, which meant I felt the pain a lot more and found it a lot harder to deal with. Around the same time we started to have some serious issues with one of our sons, issues that led to a lot of tension and unpleasantness.
So fast forward to now and I am at a standstill, encased in a shroud of darkness where the moments of joy, lightness and sunshine are rare and beautiful things. No longer are day to day things trivial. Every moment that you feel 'ok' is a big deal, because they don't last very long.
People think it is amusing when someone says 'well I got dressed today'. For someone with severe PTSD/depression/anxiety this is a major achievement some days. Hell, getting out of bed is a freaking miracle. It is not unknown for me to spend more than 20 hours in bed, only getting up to pee and maybe find something to eat, preferably chocolate.
We have codes in our house now. If I end up 'in the closet', then I have reached meltdown point. I literally sit inside our walk-in robe in the dark, often rocking back and forth and howling. It is a good month if I don't end up in the closet. It is a great month if I don't even come close to that. I've had two months of no closet time. I've come close a few times, but frankly my partner has caught me before I fell. So instead of going in the closet I just lay in bed and howled and then slept. That is usually the step after the closet.. so I will take it as progress.
Our other code is my ipod. If I have my ipod plugs in my ears then I am wordlessly telling everyone that I am not coping. This happens a lot if the house gets noisy (not unusual with 4 kids at home). Too much noise means anxiety, my filter doesn't work so well these days. So I drown it out with music. I'll often be on the computer whilst wearing the ipod. It's like I don't want to deal with everything, but I also don't want to be shut away in the bedroom.
The last code is the bedroom door. I will often go and sit in bed and watch Dr Who or cakey shows (my daughter's term for shows like Cake Boss and ChoccyWoccyDooDah). If I leave the door open I am 'still available', if the door is shut it means 'fuck off'.
6 year olds don't do codes and my daughter will ignore all indicators that mum is in a bad place. But I don't yell at her, I usually give her a hug and she curls up next to me and we watch tv together. My illness is not her fault, or her problem. It is hard to be a parent and be mentally ill. In fact some think you cannot be both. I know people who have had kids taken away because they are ill. I'm lucky I have a support (my partner and my mum), but frankly without my kids I would be worse. They are proof that I can do great things.
Well, that was a huge ramble. Today is actually a pretty good day, even if I have only had a few hours of sleep. I'm the kind of tired that hurts, but my mind feels 'ok' today. I will make the most of it.
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