Update on the mini crash and things in general

Good afternoon world and friends.

It's been a week and it feels like it's been a year, yet still just a minute since I last wrote to you. What's new hey?

Erm, so to fill you in... hmm, I'm not really sure myself how things have been to be honest. Last time I wrote I was in the middle of a mini crisis where I felt my world had just come crashing down. This was triggered partly by some nightmares and then body pains which seemed to be more than a coincidence, combined with not getting along with Adam and a big argument where he told me he didn't like me anymore (to be fair, I had just said the same thing to him... well, Pan had, but Pan is part of me so I can't pass the blame... but I believe I am unlovable and I know I love Adam so when I say it I know it's just anger (not trying to excuse it) but when he says it, it's confirmation of how no one in the world, including Adam could possibly love me or even like me). Anyway, I don't want to tread old ground (is that even an expression? I'm still learning about figures of speech. Either I'm a bit autistic or was a bit busy growing up in an abnormal life to take on board the wonders of metaphors and the like).

So the weekend was difficult. I was thinking about the dreams a lot and feeling depressed and despairing and hopeless. Light fittings were not just light fittings and bannisters were not just bannisters if you know what I mean and I found myself rummaging through the bin to find a glass jar or bottle that I could smash and then throwing it back in the bin after staring at the object for some time on more than one occasion... but apart from Thursday night and Friday morning, I didn't self harm or try to hang myself, so that's pretty good going all in all! It's hard to describe what a crash feels like. A minute feels like an hour in that state. I feel so completely alone and being with Adam just adds to the feeling of aloneness. It's like I am trapped in a bubble which someone has filled with painful emotions and bits of memories of hurt and loss and I can't get out of it and no one can get in. It doesn't matter what the world is doing, if the sun's shining or the rain's falling because it can't affect me except to make me feel more alone and hopeless. I want to cry. My body feels heavy. Movements are very slow. I don't care what I look like, but I look different...pale, puffy eyes (probably because I don't sleep the same way when I'm like this), bedraggled. I curve into myself because holding my head up is an effort I don't have the motivation or will for. I stare, but I'm not looking out at anything. I'm just seeing a blur.

I felt despairing and I felt hopeless at the weekend but I guess I couldn't have been completely hopeless because I was holding onto the thoughts that a) I could remember feeling this way and worse in the past and had survived and b) if I could make it to Monday I'd probably switch to a more life compatible version of Candycan.

Monday came and I went along to see T at clinical psychology. Erm... trying to remember... erm... Oh yes! We talked about... gosh, I'm not sure. I'm not doing very well here. But I know it was difficult and I talked about, oh yes!...  the dreams. I was pleased with myself I guess that I was able to tell T at least one of the dreams because I definitely wouldn't have been able to talk about it out loud last year, or even perhaps earlier this year, without dissociating and ending up feeling everything physically or switching. So I feel that is huge progress, or else I was just in a different state that was more able to talk without getting overwhelmed. It was difficult and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. I know it's stupid but I still worry that T won't believe me, even though in reality she probably believes it more than I do myself. But while I was talking about the dreams and how I felt that the pains I had couldn't be a coincidence, I was worrying that she would think I was just making things up for attention and then I start to convince myself  that I am. Or at least just blowing things out of proportion. And I start doubting everything again.

Last night I had a dream that I was in a car that fell off the road into a lake and I was in the sinking car trying to get the windows open to get myself and the others in the car out. I've had this dream a thousand times and when I drive near water I always feel freaked out. That doesn't mean this actually happened to me though. So why should I assume that dreaming about terrible things happening to a child and then feeling physical pains means those things happened to me? I don't know. Why would I dream about those things happening to me if it wasn't because of past experiences? Then I say (inside), 'I know it's real because it feels real'. Even though I don't consciously know it, in a way, I kind of do at the same time. But then in another way, I know it's not. OK so to conclude... we can't rely on any opinions or feelings that come out of my brain!

So, I told T about the dream. She didn't say an awful lot although she did ask me if I had considered if these things might have happened to me. I think she was trying to get me to think for myself and come to that conclusion. I'm sure we talked about other things but I can't bring them to mind. Then, at the end of the session, we tried EMDR for the first time. I will tell you about that in another post.

My week has been pretty huge in some ways. First of all, I found out the results of my liver tests. I haven't spoken with the doctor yet, I just found out by looking up my blood results at work and have extrapolated through this my diagnosis, which is a genetic (therefore lifelong) disorder which can cause chronic fatigue like tiredness! I don't want to go into too much detail about this on here because I'm worried about my anonymity for various reasons but suffice to say, it's a lot to get my head around. In a way, I am happy that there is potentially an answer for the exhaustion I have been plagued with for some time now and therefore hopefully a treatment that can help. On the other hand, the treatment for the condition sounds like it could be pretty hard going in itself and might make me feel worse instead of better for the first long while. But, I need to speak to the consultant again before I get ahead of myself and thanks to the NHS being as it is, I will have to wait another two months for an appointment. I tried several times to contact his secretary this week to find out if there's anything I can do in the meantime and have come to the conclusion that they make it almost impossible to find the number on purpose so that patients can't ring up to bother them. I eventually got through to an answering machine, which proved to be pointless because two messages and several days later and I haven't heard a thing back from them.

The other big news of this week is that I have been offered a new job! This is a good thing in that it gives me job security until 2013 instead of until Christmas, but bad in that it potentially means starting in an area of work I always said I'd hate to work in and I'd be working under the supervision of the very person who bullied me when I was a student. Now, to be fair, I have come to like this area of work a bit more this year seeing as half the patients I am currently seeing would fall into this client group and although I haven't had much dealings with this bully from hell of a manager since I started working, I hope it might be different now that I am working as a professional and have a lot more confidence in my abilities. The other bad thing is that the girl who is currently doing this particular job is so stressed out, I feel it will kill me... and I see her as much more competent than I am. :S Given my current physical and mental state and the fact that I am just about managing to get through each working day by the skin of my teeth (teeth don't have skin...what's that about?) I am finding it hard to feel excited about the prospect of work in general, never mind starting a new job at the moment. Sigh.

These two things have kind of been occupying my head this week; the diagnosis much more than the job, so I haven't had too much time to think about my meltdown of last weekend until now. I've felt like I've struggled through each day. I'm now having to work late on a Wednesday evening as well and starting an extra project at work. It's all fun and games isn't it?

Emotionally I've just numbed myself through the week. I've been too busy to feel. This morning was my first moment of rest since last Sunday. Adam went out after lunch and I watched a bit of telly for half an hour then switched off the box, lay down on the living room floor and stared at the carpet while tears rolled out of my eyes and I thought about how empty and hopeless my life is looking. I went back into the kitchen and looked at the glass jar which is still sitting out from last weekend, for a moment... contemplating. Then I shook myself and got my laptop out to do some of the work that I can't fit into my working days but that is building up and causing me to have dreams about car crashes all night.

I'm starting to resent Adam. He hasn't been working now for a year. He could have been working if he'd wanted to. At the same time I understand why he hasn't taken a job but his line of work means he earns at least double my wage when he does work. If he was working now I'd have the option of cutting down my hours or even taking some time out to get well, but as it is, the mortgage needs paid and I must keep going in order to pay it. Last weekend I found myself asking Adam what would happen to the house if I died and he said that our insurance policy means the mortgage would be paid off. One of the things that has been on my list of 'reasons not to kill myself' is that it wouldn't be fair to leave Adam with the debt of the house. Now, it appears it would actually do him a favour in this regard. There are however, still two other reasons on the list at the moment so unfortunately, that's not an option.

It's a crash

Dear world

I am still alive. I think I must be because the pain in my heart would suggest it hasn't died. My husband picked up some sleeping tablets from the doctor I spoke to yesterday and I took one last night. I slept for ten hours although I still feel knackered today and unfortunately, still in a dark, despairing, empty, alone place. It's a crash.

I lay on the sofa again this afternoon for some time while Adam tried to cheer me up by playing some jolly tunes on the piano. He said he wanted to go and play golf today with a friend. I really felt down when he said this. I don't want to be alone again after spending most of the day on my own yesterday. A small part of me felt sad that he couldn't understand how hard things are for me at the moment. I guess he's so used to seeing me with something or other wrong: if it's not feeling sick, or random body pains, it's exhausted or depressed; that he doesn't really distinguish the crisis I am having as different. But yet he does, because he keeps saying how worried he is and he rang my psychologist and he knows I wouldn't contact the out of hours GP if I felt it could wait until Monday. This is more than depressed. This is a crash.

If you read the comments section on yesterday's post you'll know already that I contacted the out of hours GP yesterday and he was very kind and tried to be understanding although didn't really understand at all. He gave me lots of useful advice like drink ten glasses of water per day and eat my five a day fruit and veg. I know when you're in the middle of a crisis, eating your five a day isn't the answer, but that's OK. It's still important sometimes to hear the basic advice. I know as well as anyone about the importance of these things but even I find myself sitting on the sofa at 7pm realising I haven't eaten or drank since I woke up that morning. So he had a point. It's just not going to solve my crisis and I wanted something much more immediate than lifestyle advice. He advised me to keep taking the diazepams which I had from my GP ages ago and hadn't found any use. He said to up the dose to three tablets as and when and he prescribed the aforementioned sleeping tablet, which after reading the side effects of, I wondered if was going to do me more harm than good taking it and went to sleep half expecting to wake up this morning in a psychotic state having lost my memory and end up running round aggressively attacking people with a bat.

After I while of being sprawled on the sofa today I asked Adam to ring the doctor again because I am sure diazepam doesn't help someone who is in the depths of despair. He did so and spoke with a doctor on my behalf. I could hear him talking about how I have DID and depression and I wondered if the GP would have a clue what DID was. I don't think I would have mentioned it myself. I could hear the GP asking Adam if I was having thoughts of self harm or suicide and Adam said he didn't think so. I suggested I speak to the doctor and we chatted for about ten minutes. He was very friendly again, which again surprised me. I've only ever had to ring an out of hours GP once before and that was when I ran out of antidepressants just before a bank holiday weekend and wanted to get some more in case I would have withdrawal. The GP was so rude and patronising and gave me a stern lecture about being responsible for my own health. It was like a slap in the face for someone who, I think given my difficulties is doing a pretty good job at managing and being responsible all in all.

Anyway, this doctor seemed to be very understanding of the crisis I was having. He agreed that diazepam probably isn't going to help me much and that although he wished he could give me something to help me feel better through the weekend, that there really isn't any short term medication for the type of feelings I am having. He talked about how I had been in therapy for three years and that this must be very difficult and bring up a lot of things for me. He said he understood that sometimes things can become overwhelming and very intrusive and that an antidepressant would be something I should consider although it probably wouldn't help me today or tomorrow as it could take a few weeks to kick in. I expressed that I am worried about work because even this weekend there is a lot of work I need to do because of deadlines coming up and he said it was important not to think about these things but that my health is a priority. He's about the fourth person to say that to me in the last week. Even my own manager suggested that I need to put my health first and consider leaving work for a time. It's just not an option though. Adam is out of work and we have a mortgage to pay. I'm trapped. I can't really talk to Adam about this because he feels it's his fault for not being in a job. Sigh.

In the end we left it that if the thoughts were becoming very intrusive, I should contact them again. I'm OK with that. I know I'm not going to kill myself this weekend. I guess I just need to try and cope and do the things like drink water and eat fruit. 

Afterwards I asked Adam how the GP had reacted when he talked about DID and Adam said he seemed to have a good understanding of it which surprised and pleased me. I guess that's why he seemed to have quite a good insight into how I was feeling when I tried to explain that these crashes are usually short lived and most of the time I'm like 'a different person'. It felt really good to speak with someone who was caring and compassionate and not judgemental and ignorant. GPs can't be all bad.

The sun is shining here, for a change. My husband has realised I need him not to go out to play golf (I didn't want to say but I was hoping he wouldn't abandon me today so it's a relief) and instead we are going to walk up the hill behind my house and have bacon sandwiches by the lake in the meadow. You wouldn't think I live in the capital city! I just need to muster up some energy to get out of my pyjamas into some clothes which seems like a simple enough task but feels mammoth.

I'm supposed to be going out for dinner with Adam, my sister Katie and her husband tonight. I know it's probably good if I do get out and could help me feel better, but between you and me, the thought of having to take a shower and find some clothes to wear is overwhelming me!

Thank you for the encouraging comments on the last post. It really does help to hear from others who know what it's like. I feel for anyone who goes through life feeling the way I am this weekend.