Are the voices in my head too loud for you?

Me and My Shadow

Sorry there has been another gap in blogging.  I have had a week which has mostly been up - but when I have been down I have been really down.  I do become hugely frustrated when I can see what it is I want do get on with and acheive but seem to have neither the motivation, energy or confidence to do it.  It's rather like that brilliant Little Britain sketch where David Walliams plays a Travel Agent and says ..."The computer (my brain) says no."

Writing has become a little more difficult too - I already have very mild confusion which I will not indulge as dyslexia - over b's, d's, t's and p's and often have to sound a word out a few times before I write it.  Therefore 'drink' can be written as 'brink' and sometimes even as 'trick' - but don't get me started on the word muddle issue.  The newest addition to my infinitely varied brain programming is I am now writing words backwards without realising it until I check back and then it takes me a moment to realise what is wrong - although I immediately identify something is up.  So 'neeb' in the previous paragraph was 'been' and agent as 'tnenga'.

This isn't helped by the sense of fuzzy resignation that somehow it no longer matters on the scale of things whether I participate or not.  I am an invisible and unnecessay accessory.  That is, of course, the disassociating aspect of this illness.  (I have invested in some new t-shirts - my current favourite is I am cleverly disguised as a responsible adult).

In the above scenario I sleep badly and then bounce appointments because I have worked myself up into a frenzy of either believing there is no point in trying to associate or because I have transferred this anxiety into emotional self-flagulation and feel so bruised by my own internal dialogue that I am frigtened literally, and metaphorically of my own shadow.

I bounced my appointment with my CPN this week.  Plain stupid as I needed his input.  He's the stabilisers on my bike back to life and is helping me to take responsibility for finding effective coping strategies.  Then I bounced my occupational therapy session because it was just too much.  This was to involve the herculian task of going on a seven day outward bound course in the Cairngorms with a group of four other depressed people, a few support staff and an ex-SAS chap leading. 

(Actually that's not entirely true).

It was a pre-planned trip to the local garden centre cafe and I was to be the one who ordered our drinks and paid at the counter.  Practicing an act of independence and skills building.  I sat in the sitting room and chatted to my already long-suffering OT instead.  She was right that I had attempted at the first sign of wellness to remodel all aspects of my thinking and life and had, as a consequence, rather over done it.  I was back as a jelly-like blob.  Lesson learned.  Less is more.  Slower is good.  Hard to learn as such a driven person.

It was while I was swimming in and out of my stupor of sleep, self-pity and sloth-like behaviour (my comfort zone) that I started to attempt to think through how I felt about my drugs and my own sense as to why I was supposed to be taking them.  It struck me powerfully that the antidepressant seemed to be doing nothing to lift my mood; the anti-psychotic - to reduce anxiety - was giving me an ever-decreasing 'window' of calmness; and the sleeping pill was causing insomnia! 

Between the decision to pack a rucksack and leave my partner to enjoy a better life without me pulling him down - I planned to find a cave or similar to live in out of harm's way with Broadband access if possible - and the one where I stopped taking all the drugs immediately, I had a thought.  The thought has helped turn around recent days. 

I usually take, as suggested on the packet, my antidepressant in the morning.  It dawned on me that as I only take one a day and they are a slow release formula, to take it in the morning means that the peak of its effectiveness falls at the end of the day or in the night - depending how early I take it.  I remember reading something of the sort in the small print with the drug that you may feel your best in the evening.  You can guess what's coming, I have started taking the tablet at night and in the mornings and through most of the day feel in a much more positive frame of mind.  This combined with the other drugs gives me a more positive outlook all round and sgnificantly more mental and emotional 'space' to play with.  I am now undertaking one 'significant' activity each day if at all possible.

My base line is that I should always get up and at the very least do basic hygeine and move about the house.  The 'task' of the day is on top of that. 

Yesterday I went to my first Art Therapy session - a getting to know you time and a chance to see the art studio in the hospital.  Interestingly a space I had never seen when I was working as a volunteer assistant chaplain there.  It felt a safe space and I can go there each Friday afternoon for a short time and do pretty much what I like.  I intend to re-capture my deadened playfulness in this therapeutic environment.  On past experience that will mean I will gain from it something wholly other and as yet unanticipated.

So each day I try something - or if I feel whacked and can't try something - then I practicise the art of not beating myself to a pulp and not seeing this as an irretrievable failure; a step back.

Today's task, above and beyond blogging is to try out reading theology.  I can remember years ago a Doctrine lecturer of mine saying in passing to us as a group of Theology under-grads - how many of you read Theology for pleasure?  Have a theology text or two on your bedside table which are on the go?  I remember one chap (always a man!) put his hand up and said what he was reading at that time.  I practised invisibility - and thought: Only one or two?  It will be fascinating if any sense of my former delight in theology is ready to be re-kindled or whether I will have to resort to P.D. James and a good murder mystery in the old-fashioned style instead!

Of course I may hear in due course from the professionals that there is a very sound medical reason why I should never take my antidepressant at night - turn into an ogre after midnight; grow big hairy warts; live delusionally with the idea that you are feeling better during the day - but for now it does seem to be helping and I am now on day four of my personal trial???

Interestingly my new art therapist's homework is quite challenging.  My first 'game' is with myself.  I am to put on makeup in whatever style I think suits me best and come made up to next week's session even if I go straight out the door afterwards and wash it off.  This is a brilliant task.  Firstly I haven't looked at myself in the mirror in any formal or interested way for months.  Secondly, I have rationalised little or no make-up partly for ecological reasons and partly because being 'made up' in the past hasn't made me feel confident or otherwise.  I have always been rather ambivalent about it - and don't particularly like it on others I think..  Thirdly - and this is the corker - it helps me to face the fact that however much I long to be invisible I can never be and should never be.  So the therapists argument is - you find what works for you - but you try things you may have dismissed in the past as unhelpful too.

My intial thought on the way home was to make light of this therapeutic task and face paint rather than make myself up.  Maybe a clown or an animal.  I suddenly remembered - and it made my tummy turn over in a triple back-flip somersault - that in reality - I brush up beautifully with a touch of pancake and lippie (pancake is the theatrical term for makeup).  So one day over the coming days I am going to have fun with my face and look at what a makeover might look like.  I've no sense about how I will feel - but I think it's a great task.  I will literally face my physical self.

Bumpy Ride

It's Jp . . .

After Jane's last blog she has come down to earth again.  With a bump.

There was a high degree of elation, following the new medication, and it seemed that at last she could get going again - so she pushed herself and, because she so desperately wants to be well again, she overdid it, and drained her very meagre resources.  She has spent the last couple of days recovering.  We now know that progress must be slow, and consolidated.  You cannot run from a crawl, you need to learn to walk with a degree of certainty first.

I understand that often people who have had a hip replacement are so thrilled to be able to move freely without pain, perhaps for the first time in years, that they, too, over-exercise and actually extend the recovery period as a result.  I think that Jane's situation is somewhat similar - very small steps for some time before she can begin the giant strides.

Quiet is Cool

Blogging whilst watcing Gordon Ramsey cook along with the nation feels as though I have finally lost all sense of reality.  Much as I admire the quality of Ramsey's cuisine - I have to say I would be paying much more attention if we were cooking along with his kitchen assistant for the evening - Chris Moyles - who should have a TV slot to share his insights on life, the universe and everything - daily - maybe instead of the early evening news. 

Quiet day today - resting mostly and consolidating.  I checked out carefully whether I was avoiding doing things by choosing sleeping and staying in bed for much of the day.  My partner and I both agreed that I wasn't.  I was catching up and not anxious (for most of the time).  When I was - it was for a reasonable reason and I talked myself 'down' with my partner acting as thoughts midwife.

Tomorrow, as the weather is predicted to be awful -  we are probably going to play trains and paint.  Log fire and fun.

Ben Wyvis looks wonderful and the bay is visited by a variety of waterfowl.  Even in the gales the ducks still paddle on.

The cows are still in the surrounding fields so the dogs remain slightly perturbed when a few toddle over to the fence or look over the stone wall.  They are so quiet tonight I think they all have sore throats.  They should have.

I still feel good inside and when I don't I am working hard at restoring perspective.  Sunday we are testing boundaries with lunch out.  I find returning to the world tiring rather than anxiety making just now - but I haven't started to interract yet - that starts next week.  I think it's fair to say that drowsiness goes with the territory of these drugs.

All in all I remian in a position where I am feel I am making a good start.

No Pets Made It Home

The high spot of today was going out with my new Occupational Therapist.  This has been the first, proper outing in months which hasn't been either cut short or clouded by acute anxiety.  Apart from quick coffees and snatched lunches at Simpson's in Inverness with my partner before returning home and going straight to bed and taking a few days to get over it, today has been the first  experience of  going out which has not  been confined to the category of 'absolute necessity under duress'. 

Most particularly I have always been highly stressed in the hours or, on occasions, days leading up to an appointment.  Hours and hours of sleep to avoid having to do the same again or deal with my feelings about the outing.  In contrast, today has been by my current frame of reference - good; excellent even.  I just hope I can keep up the good work - and even if I can't, I can remember what this afternoon felt like - and it has been a long time since I have had such a powerful sniff of another, possible life.  I feel like Moley in Wind in the Willows. 

I chose our first outing to be to Pets at Home in the retail park near where we live.  I wasn't quite up to facing Borders which would probably be my more natural choice when well.  I love the shop, but something about it makes me feel disorientated at the best of times.  As I felt this afternoon, a large, almost empty pet shop was just about right. 

We examined the rabbits, guinea pigs, chinchilla and rescued rodents for sale and re-homing and I resisted the temptation to by one.  And no, that doesn't mean I bought three or four!  No furries returned in the car with us - and I felt as though I had coped with the 'false' signals in the moment which were encouraging me to terminate the outing and get home. 

Although I do suffer from dizziness and disassociation on these drugs - they are just side effects and when the volume of each symptom seemed to be turned up when I became a little anxious and went into the shop and couldn't find a thing, I was able to just stop, breath and regain my sense that I can change the balance of this feeling and focus on the benefits of what I was buying for the exisiting family pets rather than my own inner world which was threatening a hissy fit.  A combination, I guess of relaxation and distraction.

The OT was great.  She made sure she stayed close enough to be there if I needed her, but she pretty much let me get on with it.  I found that very liberating and her distance helped me to risk doing more than I would normally have done.  She provided a safe space and left me to explore.  I knew I could ask her to provide a life jacket, raft and oxygen if need be - but - as things panned there was no need.

I feel bushed, emotionally rather than physically, but I am working through the 'snooze barrier' by blogging and dealing with mail - both huge improvements on a couple of months ago.  I will then settle to some TV I suspect - I have, tragically, become hooked on Big Brother Celebrity Hijack.  Brian Sewell talking like a Housemaster to the housemates for a day was inspired.  He showed himself to be a good listener and a compassionate soul too.  He doesn't usually come across as a person who tolerates views which contrast with his own. 

Tomorrow I am painting - and then on Saturday - on the advice of a close relative - my partner and I are going out to play.  No idea what we are going to do - that will be part of the fun.  My partner has an idea of a trip to a gallery as he would like to see some paintings through my eyes.  I would love him to start painting.  We have a beautiful painting of his which he did as a boy and I suspect if he started again he would be very good - partly because he has a good eye for composition as a photographer and the fact that he is colour blind will simply make his work more interesting and ecourage the viewer to think about what he has created.  He remains I think, unconvinced by this line of argument!  He loves his photography.  Maybe painting would be too slow.

I haven't any idea as yet regarding what we might go out and do.  I am working on a one day at a time scenario - so I can contemplate possibilities while I am painting tomorrow.  I am choosing between two titles for a painting - Message in a Bottle or Movement.

My neice has suggested that I try selling my paintings on e bay - which sounds a good idea if I could.  She is very entrepreneurial and I will think about this when I feel better.

Now to surf for some t-shirts - I am running out of slogans!

Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?

I was pointed to a brilliant website earlier.  Google: chicken cross road.  There's a website of Awkward's Sillies offers world gurus' imagined responses to the question: Why did the chicken cross the road.  The imagined reply for Freud is worthy of a T-shirt slogan.

J.

Growing a New Pair of Legs

Today has got better as it has gone on.  I can't begin to express what a delight it is to write so positively.

The night wasn't so good.  I was having a very powerful, lucid dream when I was startled awake by our cat, Bertie, who had come in through the bedroom window,  and had decided to use me as a bridge to get to the bedside table to drink my milk!  I shot out of bed; cat flying; mortified that his midnight snack had been interupted;  I was immediately on red alert because the dream had been powerful and I had momentarily confused the dream with reality.  Classically, I then couldn't 'come down' and spent the next four hours going through my repertoire of insomniac activities.  Nothing 'took'. 

By the time I went back to sleep, it seemed like seconds before I was gently being woken and reminded that I had an appointment with my CPN at 10am.  I was, to say the least, feak and weeble, and I couldn't face getting up.  The surgery were brilliant and re-scheduled me for an afternoon appointment.  It was an excellent session, although I had trouble not climbing on to the examination couch  and just drifting off into a relaxed afternoon snooze - the power of the drugs.  I'll adjust.  I left with restored perspective - not to mention help on to the next stage- plan for the week ahead.  I wore my favourite hoodie on purpose - it has the slogan:  I am blissfully unaware of my surroundings.  I felt it was appreciated.

I accept there are up's and down's and that there will be for some time to come, but I do think this new drug regime has hit the spot even if we might need to tweak it a bit at some point.

I'd planned to start a painting when I came home this afternoon - but instead I made a cup of tea (listen to the woman brag - a cup of tea indeed - all by herself - what next?!  She'll be making decisions if we don't watch her) and decided to blog.

Recovery feels slow and for someone who naturally likes to get things done and dusted, this is taking a little getting used to, but I do know at a gut level that this time it is very, very important; the emotional recovery is in real time; I can neither rush it nor force it. 

Rather like a person who has never been able to walk suddenly having an operation which enabled them to learn, I, in a fair less dramatic, but nevertheless real sense, am experiencing for, perhaps the first time in my life, what it feels like to be anxiety free.  It's wonderful, but also a little unreal.  I feel as though I am in a bubble and that as I now increase the amount I do I am sure I will test the consistency and thickness of this drug 'force-field' as well as have it blasted or damaged from time to time!  Of course this 'state' is, at the moment pretty much entirely drug induced.  Even so it will hopefully give some time for my psyche to heal.

I am in the process of making some tough decisions.  It is crucial that until I feel significantly better that I make my re-connections in ways that build my confidence and do not drain my emotional energy.  I won't return to mental health chaplaincy in a hands on way until I am not only well, but also have had a reasonable period without a relapse.  I will have to negotiate probably whether it is appropriate or possible to continue this ministry.

We have also decided it is very important that I take the professional advice that has been offered and that I don't re-open The Sanctuary this year until such times as I am signed off properly.  This coheres absolutely with my own sense of what is professional, client-orientated, safe and accountable.  I should not be in a position where I exercise professional skills and insights when I am emotionally fragile myself.  This is inappropriate and even potentially abusive within the confidential relationship.  It is hard to accept my own level of need.  But this is right and proper.

We are still happy for those who have already used The Sanctuary to use it on a self-catering basis as and when, but I will not be available to meet with people one to one; feed or socialise.  This boundary is there so that I can recover.  No one would ask a person who had never walked to run a marathon a few months after she had discovered what legs were for.  This is about making progress - and starting with the only person I can truly 'grow' in the deepest sense and that is me.

 

Getting There - A Step forward

I am back blogging tonight whilst watching an episode of Extraordinary Animals comparing the mental capacity of an Orangoutang compared with a variety of humans.  The tests are not fair - but it's fun watching an orangeoutang's behaviour and capacity.  They are beautiful.  It's the slow blink which catches me.

I am on new medication and although the first couple of days felt a little overwhelming  - I seemed to be asleep - full stop.  Now I feel I am moving into a space where I think I will need a slightly higher dose than I have at the moment, but I do find this medication an absolute (and literal) life-saver.  The impact is considerable as it reduces the anxiety part of my depression.  It has been extremely effective, so much so that I can feel the drug kick in and recognise the moment it begins to wear off and the agitation, anxiety and disassociation return in spades. 

For all that, the drugs, when they are at full stretch clear up all the above in one swoop.  I still can't believe it.  The absence of acute anxiety.  The Side effects are that I do feel very drowsy and can sleep deeply for quite a long time.  This is great during the night though.  (Still my partner had a quiet life the first few days and has had space and time - so we both scored well!)  Stiff rather than aching joints, indigestion and a very dry mouth - all nothing compared with the mental paralysis of recent months.  A higher dose may bridge the gaps I feel as one dose fades and another is due.  On the other hand it may be better to just let it be for a month or so and see if I can cope with the gliches more effectively after the periods of 'release' provided by the drug when it is at its height.  I need to check this.

For the first time in months I am looking forward to going out tomorrow and seeing my Community Psychiatric Nurse.  It's great to be back working with this individual - but it is also so encouraging at this time, the night before an appointment, not to be sitting in a crouched over position, wringing my hands, sweating and unable to stop my agitating legs from paddling up and down whilst insisting that I can't go because I'm too stressed!  Now, as I write, there are no physical signs of agitation and I am 'on-line' for tomorrow mentally and emotionally.

Still early days - but this feels good to me.  If I have to have drugs - this combi has been the best so far by a long shot!

Again I can't begin to express how important the notes, cards, calls and such have been.  I am going on my first major outing on Thursday as part of Occupational Therapy to Pets at Home!!!!  So we will begin over the next few days to see how I handle things when there is more challenging stimuli to engage with like how many rabbits to buy.  I am looking forward to seeing how it all pans out.  If it isn't great some of the time - then it is still nowhere near as difficult to manage as it was before I took this particular cocktail of medications.

I am just beginning to try and push through this feeling of curling up at will - and doing this blog is my first attempt at doing this.  I am yawning and the siren call of intimately examining the insides of my eyelids is very powerful.  But I am still typing! 

Amazing not to feel anxiety - but I am not sure what else it is surpressing.  I've been on the new regime a week tomorrow.  I have a lot of trouble with my words and at the height of the medication can sound like Dory in Finding Nemo when she is 'talking whale'.  I think I sound drunk and I can't find the correct words for things.  I also feel I've lost some of the quickness and edginess of my humour.  This is probably because humour is the ultimate defence mechanism for me.  I don't do back-stabbing and I always deeply regret the odd lapse of courtesy when I bitch, but I have always loved making people smile.

J. :)

Sharp Dip

Sadly, it's Jp again . . .

After a period in which Jane felt herself to be a whole lot better and well on the way up, she had a very bad day yesterday, and today has been no better.  Her anxiety level is very high and it is difficult for her to be on her own.

The suspected reason for this dip is probably related to trying to come off the medication - the sleeping pills and the Diazepam - both of which tend to fuzz her mind, which she hates.  They can also become addictive.

She has spent the last couple of days in bed.

I hope we'll soon be able to give some better news.

Cow Pats and Spiders

The sun shone for a short time this morning and low and behold our local farmer arrived to mend the fencing in the next field ready for the arrival of this year's cattle to fertilise and replenish the land before market.  The fine beasties seem so very young, but they have had huge fun discovering the bank behind our house and the fact that they can climb up it (some are better than others) and down it and then wander into the next field too!

They were originally placed in the field for grazing the day before Bea's funeral and I can remember looking out of the window to see a herd in our orchard and one up in the little courtyard!  They had broken through the fence and were wandering off - most of them towards the village.  I had a sudden image of them turning up in the car park of Tesco Extra just off the main road.  I also had images of Betty's hearse driving through cow pats, but the farmer was quickly on the case and as they were gathered they mosied off to find literally pastures new.  No poops - so there is a God.  Amazing really as that would have truly rivalled my Father's funeral which was on a icy and snowy day 23rd December - 1981 in a South London Church where the pall-bearers slipped and dropped his coffin.  They were embarrassed and apaulled, we could simply hear in our hearts the distant roar of laughter from Dad, who would have seen it as pure slapstick and with a strong sense of humour would have enjoyed the farce.  I suspect my Mum's reaction had there been a patchwork of cow poo would have been much the same - but I suspect the drivers of the funeral car and hearse would have been deeply unimpressed.  Think of the cleaning.

I am still getting my head around the settling of my mother's affairs, but I am delighting in the fact that I not only feel well enough now to do this, but I am in a deep sense enjoying the nature of the process - it is an act of completion as well as a token of love and respect.

The hard part now is doing enough and not too much.  I need to keep up the good work and I am pleased that I have at my ancient age, at last learnt how to read when I need to stop rather than plough on regardless.

I was sent the other day a powerpoint presentation from a friend that I have known since he was born, his family and mine would often socialise and he and his brother and I would play together.  It was about recognising that life is short and what we are and what we have at the moment is what life is about - not the means to an alternative end - but the reality is now.  So many religious and philosophical models demand exactly this structure of understanding.  Being isn't what I do; it isn't even what I facilitate in others; it is the moment and our shared or disparate understandings of the moment; our interpretation.

Good to remember this when a usually quiet house has been filled on and off by the barking of Jo - our rescue collie who dislikes cattle per se.  Tractors have a similar effect.  He's calmer now it's dark - but instead of the four of them wondering out in the garden and having a sniff round - for now they are led off in a chorus of "Cattle Go Home".  Poor Jo he really is anti-rural living.

In the last weeks I have been wondering where God and my former spirituality is.  As I became very disassociative - so any sense of a value or belief system also seemed to gradually elude me.  Some things have returned.  I know silent contemplation is still exceptionally important to me and stillness physically is returning now the drugs are less of an issue.

I am now needing more than ever to continue to work on what Church means in terms of community, diversity and issues of acceptance and tolerance - as well as explore more deeply the hermeneutics of mental illness and actually the whole rationale that underpins mental healthcare and it's desired outcomes.  Whether this is autism, conduct disorder, schizophrenia or depression.  There are two books there I reckon.

My next big treat will be to persuade my partner to build a sloped writing desk to fit on my existing desk for me.  Since my accident last June I have had a lot of problems with my left shoulder and hand - altering the angle seems to help hugely.

I guess this signals a need and desire to test my boundaries again with some intellectual stimulus.  I have enough on the back burner to keep me in work probably for the next three years - so there is a sense in which as I start to think - "Yes, I'd like to have a go at that again" I need to simply get on and do it.

Rather exciting.

I took great delight in the two large spiders in the bathroom this morning who have decided to squat.  They seem to enjoy chasing each other or - more precisely - one is stalking the other.  They are both quite big - and I have named them, obviously, Spy and Der.  Spy is the dominant one who leads.  I am hoping we may have baby spiders - but they seem to have no desire to leave via the window - so I am waiting and watching in anticipation!  It is a pleasant distraction from noticing that the bathroom needs a good clean.  Post illness I am still drawing lines at some things.  I have a strong feeling returning to domestic goddess mode may always elude me or be the last part to return.  (I can hear my partner's groaning!)  He's getting good at that kind of thing so why disturb the good work.  I am not convinced sharing the load is justifiable - I am still ill after all...

I wonder how long I can string this out - it's great being cooked for!!!!

Onwards and upwards

Another very good day.  Although it is still Hogmany in Scotland so many business things cannot be done until tomorrow.  I am feeling upbeat for the most part and am still working through the incredibly long list of things that still need to be done following my mum's death.  I haven't rushed.  I wanted to be able to do things properly and well - and not on the back of drugs.  I wanted to be present and grieve in the moment rather than rush on.

The day has been chilly and snow is anticipated tomorrow - but a dusting rather than a drift.  We are still blessed with a cacophony of geese in the bay who are thoroughly enjoying the water and gather for their daily conference as the evening draws in.  It sounds fun and it is quite clear as you watch them that there is a strict pecking order with disciplining side-coaches checking out the precision formation flying.

A cooler winter shows Ben Wyvis off in it's full glory with snow covered peaks and the duller skies, with a pinkish hue at sunrise and sunset with a slight mist are breath-taking.

I have just started reading Boff, L., Essential Care: An Ethics of Human Nature (2007) London: SPCK ready to review it for The Expository Times. 

(Gosh - she must be feeling better.)

Boff writes:

I dream of a world that is still to come, a world where we will no longer need electronic devices to overcome our solitude and fulfill the human essence of care and kindness.  I dream of a globalized society, in the great common home of the earth...of a world in which care has been recognised as a fundamental ethos of the human being and as an indispensible compassion for all beings of creation.

Amen.