Jane 1 Mean Voice 0

Something of a battle today as my anxiety has been high.  Although I have no regrets about ceasing to use the Diazapam as they were no longer in any real sense effective - my solar plexus has felt as though a large cement mixer has been imported and is rolling round and round; swirling and grumbling. 

I managed to stay to my schedule though and got up at a reasonable time.  My partner and I have talked a lot about meeting with the person we saw yesterday and are reflecting on what has been said to us.  Both our moods are reflective and my partner is very tired.  He has had a migraine today which is a sure sign he is over-doing it.  You can imagine my huge emotional self-beating up about still not doing much and not wanting to do much which takes me away from painting and a very still, uninterrupted, predictable day.  I went to pieces for a bit - but we sat together and had a joint duvet moment and I suspect both dozed momentarily as we watched The Dog Whisperer.  Not only were we snoozing; we looked across and Bertie (Cuthbert) our cat was asleep on the Bishop's Chair;  three dogs curled up and asleep on the other sofa - and Jo (collie) asleep in his basket.

While I paint I can to some degree control the anxiety - but as I grew tired this afternoon, I realised I had probably painted for about five hours today in all - mean voice leapt into action and reduced me to a snuffling wimp by suggesting the picture was rubbish and I should just paint over it.  My abstracts are better apparently - up until that moment I hadn't known her views.  Worst of all was the power of her strike, it took a huge effort not to self sabbotage badly at this point.  Duvet time with my partner and The Dog Whisperer was the least destructive of many thoughts going through my head.

The strategies for lowering agitation do help as does distraction, but once I am tired I seem to have little or no defences.

Terribly concerned about the floods in East Anglia.  I remember folk when I was a Curate and Vicar in Suffolk recalling the devastation of the flood of 1953 and the loss of life - not to mention property.  The gales have been powerful here too today.  Nutmeg (rabbit) was brought in as the wind really began to build around lunchtime and watched TV with me on the sofa while I had my usual bagel lunch.  All the dogs came over to say hello - Bertie didn't even bother to wake up.  I suppose Nutmeg didn't smell like a real, wild rabbit.  She has spent most of the afternoon lying flat out in her single storey indoor hutch in the utility room.

Irony of ironies, our boiler died this morning -  the coldest and windiest day of the year so far - and we had to dust off the convectors and keep warm that way.  Bless our boiler man, he had to head over to the West and promised to come tomorrow and then called to say he had finished his job early and would come and 'do' us on the way home.  Life-saver - sitting still and painting, my fingers were freezing.  My mum, who lives with us, wasn't affected too badly as she has her electric heater on with the central heating all the time.  Again not moving about much, she needs to stay warm.

I feel as though I have little choice but to continue to listen to my brain and body and work at the pace they are comfortable with, but I'd be lying if I didn't say it feels frustratingly and at times humiliating that the progress makes a tortoise look athletic, I would be lying, I hate the speed of the progress but I know there is real improvement. 

I am practising being more body aware and relaxing parts when they become tense or agitated.  My partner has traded some points and bought me an outrageous selection of The Sanctuary shower products - the big multi-national one - not the one here!   I started with one this morning and now have a choice of three for my showers.  It has helped make a difficult part of the day - playful in a way.  It was a clever move.  We are getting into a routine.  It's not 7am to 11pm - but I am now 'expected to be awake by 9am' and I try to be up and about by 10.30am at the latest.

No very dark thoughts since Monday which is wonderful; no counting of chickens etc...  But I am pleased.  I started self-harming some weeks ago to relieve the head torment.  The constant pain and inner dialogue of dispiriting self-destruction.  I cut my arms and I would never have believed the level of relief it is possible to achieve when I was in that 'zone' and at the level of debilitation where I felt out of body, in the sense that my body felt dislocated and unimportant.  It provided an extraordinary sense of power when I felt so utterly hopeless.

I've never had much empathy with cutters before - I've always satisfied my own edginess with picking the skin off my fingers until it constantly flakes.  The cuts are healing - as long as I resist picking.  Again I am proud that I have two big bandages and I wear them from wrist to elbow to reduce the risk in the night, especially when I waken from a nightmare or suddenly feel the negative need to reinforce how imperfect I am.

I feel relaxed about the process.  It's not attention-seeking but rather tension-relieving.  I think it is also a very powerful visual signal to me not to go further and to remind me that I do still under the surface know this illness will take a while to work through.  The best of news is that unlike Schizophrenia, I am suffering a mental illness but I am not mentally ill.  This is something I will get over; and learn about - just like a diabetic spots when they need to get advice about re-balancing their insulin - I will know when to get some help because the symptoms are reappearing.  Just like a diabetic going under - it maybe that those who know me well may notice I need help a lot quicker than I do.  When I am discharged I will name people who will have that power in a sense to tell me to stop punishing myself and get off my butt and see my Community Psychiatric Nurse.  It is sensible and he's lovely.

Funnily enough I am remarkably compliant when people tell me I need to get support.  I just have to overcome, each and everytime, the sense of shame.

Good things today:

Cuthbert sleeping in while the dogs snoozed and I painted.

Duvet time with my partner on the sofa.

Nutmeg time.

The strategies.

Bad things:

Dwelling on the past.

Stumped a bit over my hospital homework.

All in all - Jane 1,  Mean Voice 0.

Comments

[Gwen]

At the risk of repeating myself. I continue to be amazed at the progress you are making. Go girlie go!!!But realise that being gentle with youself is not a sign of weakness but a stage in growing and realising that it is OK to be loved and supported.Go gentle and enjoy it.
Gales blow themselves out with out too many problems. T not been too good but we are ok thank you.
Much love to you all G