Into the system…

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Posts Tagged ‘treatment

A Little Clarification…

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My last post, Distressing Diagnosis… was a little on the rushed side and basically unfinished when I posted it. I knew if I didn’t publish it when I did, I wouldn’t get the chance for a while, but I kinda wish I’d held back. I’ve been back and edited it a little, but it still doesn’t say everything.

Edit: (17/03/2010) – I’ve actually ended up reworking this post quite a lot too. I didn’t read it back yesterday and since then I’ve realised it was all over the place and made little sense. It is a little better, but I just find this so hard to write about objectively. I am struggling with it all.

Lets get one thing straight. Dr M isn’t a horrible person or a bully. In many ways she’s actually quite nice and well meaning. She is trying hard to help. I can see that and I appreciate it.

She said she doesn’t want to do anything that will make me worse, and she did agree to remove the diagnosis in my notes when I said it wasn’t helping. I guess I can’t really argue with that. I asked her to change her diagnosis and she agreed to do so. I don’t think she’s changed it in her mind, even if she has on paper, but that is at least something.

She genuinely thinks she is helping and that she is doing the right thing. She keeps saying that she will make me better and that the future is hopeful. She is always very positive and encouraging. Many patients probably really appreciate this approach, but I find it a little too much. I don’t see enough evidence to support her positivity and that can actually be damaging. It makes me lose faith and trust. I find that she can ignore the negative, which means I don’t feel like I am being listened to or taken seriously. Unfortunately she doesn’t seem able to recognise this or she is unwilling to adjust her approach.

She also gives me her time – lots of it. She tries not to rush her appointments and lets them take as long as they need to, even if that means she runs behind fairly often. One of my ward rounds was over 90 minutes long, which when I realised seems pretty incredible. She saw me regularly on the ward in addition to the weekly ward rounds. She is now seeing me fortnightly as an outpatient, as opposed to the huge expanses of time between each CMHT appointment (4 months!). This is a good thing. It is closer to what I was used to in The Priory and a vast improvement on my other NHS experiences. Usually they sit you down and before you know it the appointment is over and nothing seems to have happened.

There are certainly good points to her care so far. I think it probably is an improvement on my other experiences with the NHS, but there are issues and I am finding those hard to deal with. Overall though I don’t think she’s a bad psychiatrist. I am just not sure she is the right doctor for me and I am not sure I am the right patient for her. Things just don’t seem to be working.

I don’t think it helps that we just don’t seem to get on. She was not impressed with my initial request to not be patronised and I think that clouded her opinion of me right from the start. She doesn’t seem to understand my job and why I like it. She doesn’t seem to know how to deal with me questioning her. I have a real sense that she just doesn’t like me for some reason. There was one point that she pretty much said that she couldn’t get on with me in “real life”, although I can’t remember the context now. My bloke tells me that is paranoia, but I remember it because I was shocked at the lack of professionalism and was upset that she didn’t like me.

I know I can’t hold this against her though. People don’t get on with each other and that’s a fact of life. If she doesn’t like me then fair enough. I’m not sure I’d get on with her in “real life” either. It wouldn’t matter though if it didn’t affect our therapeutic relationship. I worry that part of the reason she has diagnosed NPD purely stems from a sense that she doesn’t like me. Is it because she thinks I’m arrogant because I didn’t want to be patronised? Is it because I don’t agree with her opinion? I fear that in many ways it probably is.

It’s always going to be easier to trust and work with someone you get on with and I am finding this hard. It was one of the things I found great about working with Dr G. We got on well and could talk about anything, not just my treatment. It felt a lot more therapeutic and less clinical, which I think is important when dealing with mental illness, which is so entwined with emotion. I miss the way things were with Dr G and I am not used to the change. I don’t see the relationship with Dr M ever being like that. I find it hard to talk to her and hard to trust her. I am meant to tell her how I feel, yet I don’t feel comfortable doing so.

I also struggle with the fact that she doesn’t seem used to dealing with patients who are capable of getting dressed, eating and general functioning. Even if you had just tried to kill yourself, said you felt absolutely terrible and were threatening to do yourself in, if you could get up and about, communicate, eat and drink etc. then you are not really depressed and should be discharged. There seemed to be little acknowledgement of the fact that patients hide how they are feeling and put on a mask. There was a lot of focus on the functional side of depression and little acknowledgement of the emotional side and how patients felt. I wasn’t the only person who noticed this. A few of the more functioning patients felt that they were always being pushed to go home, treated as if they weren’t really ill and made to feel like they were a fraud. One patient was discharged too early a couple of times because she always hid how she felt and seemed “well” but she ended up back in hospital within days. You would have thought they would realise this was a problem. I don’t think this is purely down to Dr M. There were unbelievable bed pressures and the nurses weren’t exactly great at observation, but at the end of the day she makes the decision to discharge.

I wondered if this was because she is used to treating patients who aren’t functioning – those who are catatonic, staying in bed, barely speaking etc. In many ways these patients probably are more severely depressed, but that doesn’t mean they are more “worthy” of being in hospital. Non-functioning patients are a lower risk because they aren’t even capable of hurting themselves, where as a functional patient who is dealing with distressing thoughts needs to be kept safe. There didn’t seem to be much acknowledgement of this. I always felt like I was being told my problems weren’t important and that it didn’t matter how I felt.

Maybe Dr M has a problem working with me and other patients in a similar situation because she just finds it easier to deal with patients that do as they are told and don’t answer back. I guess anyone would find it easier to deal with people that follow blindly and don’t question things, but it is wrong to judge those that aren’t like that. Maybe it is as simple as a power trip. She likes to be in control and feels threatened when that power balance is upset? I don’t know.

It was also a common complaint on the ward that she thinks she’s really in touch and that she knows what you are thinking, but the reality is she’s often a long way off. Sometimes you get this hint that she might actually understand and then she says something else to contradict that five minutes later. It can be quite frustrating because you get this feeling of hope that she is listening and understands and then you get disappointed. You often feel like she is jumping to conclusions or judging you and I find it hard to talk to her. I don’t have this problem with Dr N and I never had it with Dr G. They listen to you and seem to understand what you are trying to say.

I think my feelings towards the NPD diagnosis have made it hard for me to work with her. I am offended and upset by it and I associate her with this distress. It feels like a personal attack and I find that hard to deal with. I don’t want to be considered as narcissistic, arrogant, self-serving etc. I want to be a “nice” person, someone that people can trust and get on with. I read the descriptions of people with NPD and I am scared that anyone could think I was like that. I am disgusted with myself that someone can think I am the horrible person that the NPD diagnosis describes. I can’t handle my thoughts and emotions around this and I need someone to direct those frustrations at. I guess naturally I will direct them at her. As much as her views of me may be misguided, my feelings towards her are skewed because of my feelings around this.

I still don’t think the NPD diagnosis is very accurate (although I do understand to some degree why she may have diagnosed it). I certainly don’t think I meet the criteria and I think she was wrong to diagnose it in the way she did. I really question her judgement and it is going to be hard to work with that in mind.

Personality disorders seem to be her diagnosis of choice and that worries me. She seems to be giving anyone that doesn’t respond well to medication, functions “too” well or who doesn’t fit in the usual boxes, a personality disorder. There was someone on the ward who was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder many years ago and she had seen multiple psychiatrists who agreed with that diagnosis. Dr M began treating her, quickly questioning depression and suggesting her personality was to blame for her thoughts. There seemed to be no logical reason for this, only the fact that she functioned fairly well and medication had stopped working.

I guess in many ways a PD diagnosis means the emphasis is on the patient to get better and not the doctor. If the patient doesn’t improve the psychiatrist doesn’t need to justify herself in any way. The patient is also fairly powerless because any questioning of the diagnosis could be considered a symptom of the disorder. “I’m the doctor, you’re the mental, now do as you’re told”. It probably helps that there is enough of an overlap between symptoms of a personality disorder, general life experience and other conditions that there will probably always be some evidence you can use to back up your opinion.

A little off topic perhaps, but I do still want a second opinion on the diagnosis, but I don’t know how I go about getting it. With the diagnosis lifted from my notes, I don’t know where I stand. My personality is now “under investigation”, but does that mean she is going to change the way she thinks about me? I doubt it. Do I just wait and see what happens when the therapy referral comes through or do I try and get things clarified now? Presumably there are still mentions of the narcissism on my notes, so will that influence things in future?

I wonder if I should ask about the Affective Disorders clinic in Manchester. A couple of people have suggested it to me and they have someone who focusses on “complex needs”, who may be able to comment more on the relationship between my mood disorder and any personality problems. There’s also the CUPS service in Cardiff, who has a similar service offering second opinions to anyone in the UK with complex mental health issues. The problem with these services is they require referrals from your consultant and I don’t know how to ask her, without sounding like I don’t trust her opinion.

I don’t know.

I still don’t really know what to do or think about it all. In some ways I know I should just try and forget about it now that the problem label has been rewritten, but the therapeutic relationship thing is a problem. I still have to see her every couple of weeks after all and I don’t know how things are going to work.

I guess my conclusion is though that Dr M isn’t all that evil. It’s the NPD diagnosis that’s the problem and it is going to be an elephant in the room for a while I think.

The ECT Experience…

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Whilst I was having ECT I never really wrote about it. I was in hospital with only mobile access to the Internet. I was exhausted, often in pain and not really in the mood for writing. Recently though I’ve been inspired by this blog and Seaneen’s appeal for ECT info to document my experience. I’m worried that if I don’t do it now, I’ll forget what happened all together.

Ultimately my experience with ECT was a failure. I had 11 treatments, some unilateral and some bilateral. I barely responded at all and in the end we gave up.

ECT was seen as the last resort. I was about as severely depressed as you can get and no one knew what else to do. I wasn’t sure about having it, but at the time I wrote that anything was worth a try. I think I was so depressed I didn’t really care what happened to me. I know I secretly wished it would go horribly wrong, so overwhelming were the thoughts about death.

I went into the treatment with a smidgen of hope as at least we were trying something. I felt little, but I knew my family wanted it to work. We had to believe it would work, as the alternative was too horrible to comprehend. Other patients at The Priory had been through ECT and come out the other end much improved. ECT had been lifesaving for them and I hoped it would be the same for me.

The procedure was a lot less scary than I had feared. We were woken early by the nurses, our blood pressure and temperature taken, then we were bundled into a taxi with the nurses over to Cheadle Royal. The Priory doesn’t have an ECT suite any more, so treatments were taken there.

There was a waiting room, where we’d sit waiting our turn. There was usually three or four of us being treated at the same time. Three from The Priory and a day patient from elsewhere. Eventually we’d be called into a prep room, where a girl would wash our forehead and neck and attach EEG stickers. Next we entered the treatment room. We’d climb onto a bed and Dr Shock would ask us how we felt. We would be attached to the monitors and then the anaesthetist would take my hand and try to insert a cannula.  This was where it got difficult to me. My veins are small and deep and finding one proved near impossible at times. Multiple attempts, hands like colanders and a number of bent needles later and we would be ready to go. After a few treatments like this, the anaesthetist ordered some microwave lavender bags, which I’d be given to warm my hands. ECT quickly became associated with the smell of lavender.

I’d never had a general anaesthetic before my first treatment and I didn’t know how I’d feel. I soon got used to the feeling. Twice a week for nearly 6 weeks, you have little choice. The liquid would ooze into my veins. I could feel the cold liquid flowing in my hand and then I’d drift off into a blissful sleep. When I was ill I’ve never had any other sleep as nice as that. Next thing I knew I was in the recovery area, oblivious to what went on whilst I was asleep.

Throughout my treatment and since, I’ve always been curious to see what happens in between those moments. I often wondered about asking if I could watch someone else go first, but was certain I’d be turned down. I know they apply a current to my brain and I have a fit, but what does it actually look like? Who does what?

A few times I awoke covered in blood. The cannula would slip out during the fit and I’d be left with a red tshirt. The first time it was a bit of a shock and slightly scary, but once I knew what had happened it was okay.

As we woke up, our vitals were taken regularly. Each of us would have a nurse, who would keep a close eye on us, administering pain relief if required. It was always required. An hour after our treatment we would be allowed up and given tea and toast, or water and toast in my case. Then we were bundled back into the taxi and taken back to the ward, where we usually went straight to bed.

At the time, the side effects weren’t so bad. I usually had a thumping headache, more so after the bilateral treatments. Sometimes I would ache all over. My jaw was often painful. My appetite was normally dodgy and I felt queasy from the anaesthetic. My memory seemed to be pretty much in tact. I’d written all my passwords and things down before I went, but I don’t think I ever needed to refer back.

I didn’t really mind the treatments, but I was frustrated at the lack of response. The night before each treatment we’d be given the BDI and would tick the boxes and I couldn’t see any improvement. I know my scores did improve a little, but one or two points is nothing when it is scored out of 60-something and the miracle I was hoping for never materialised. There were a couple of days after one of the early sessions where I became quite hyper and agitated for a short while, but that didn’t last either and could have been down to something else.

One of the others having ECT with me improved fairly rapidly, which was great news for her, but I remember feeling a little jealous. She was discharged from hospital before I’d even finished the treatment, although I think she had a couple of sessions whilst she was an outpatient. The other person improved gradually, but she did improve. She would have a boost for the first day or two after the treatment and the improvement would ebb away, but over time it seemed to ebb away a little slower. ECT definitely helped her to get better, although I don’t know how she is these days. I seemed to stay the same regardless. ECT wasn’t working for me.

Dr Shock would ask me each time how I felt and I never knew what to say. She would tell me I looked brighter, but it felt like she was only saying that to convince herself it was doing some good, not because she really believed it.

Towards the end, I knew we were running out of steam. I could see the medics were giving up. When the decision was finally made I wasn’t surprised but I was disappointed. I felt like a failure and I felt annoyed that it hadn’t worked. It was meant to be the cure and it failed. I felt like I should have tried harder to make it work. I worried it was my fault and that everyone thought it was my fault and that I just didn’t want to get better.

There is something to be said for it. It may not have actually lifted me out of my depression, but I think it did help keep me safe whilst I was at my worst. I suspect my insurance wouldn’t have renewed the funding if I didn’t need to be kept in hospital to have the ECT and at least whilst I was having the treatment I was often too exhausted and unwell to act upon the suicidal thoughts that were so strong at the time. Maybe if I wasn’t being told to wait and see if it worked, then perhaps I’d have been more determined to kill myself. I don’t know. I guess you never can know. Maybe I’d have been even worse if I hadn’t have had it, although I don’t know how much lower I could have got.

After the failure, came the assessment from Dr P and the diagnosis of Bipolar II Disorder. It was suggested that my lack of response to “traditional methods of treating depression”, showed that I wasn’t suffering from “straight” depression. I had suspected that for a long while before, but I don’t know why it took ECT to decide this as I know ECT can be used to treat Bipolar Disorder too. I am grateful for the ECT for accelerating this diagnosis, but it seems an awful lot to go through just to get another assessment.

The long term effects of ECT have only been showing themselves over the last few months. I didn’t think the memory loss was significant, but as you go through life there are reminders of what is missing. People mention things that happened and I have no recollection of them at all. Silly things like ordering a meal in a restaurant commenting that “I’ve not had this before”, only to be told that I did back in April when I went there with my parents. Not only had I forgotten my order, but I’d forgotten I’d even been there with my parents.

It’s not just from the treatment period either, but before too. A lot of last year has disappeared and I only have my blog and my family’s memories to remind me. Distant memories that were once clear are now fuzzy or gone completely. I have lost a lot more than I’d realised at first. They say that the memories will come back with time, but I seem to be forgetting more, not less. I don’t know if it’s just because as time goes on I find out about more of what is missing.

I don’t think my short term memory is that bad. I am forgetful, but I’ve always been a little. For most people it is the short term memory that is worst, but I seem to have got off fairly lightly on that front. I guess this is something.

I’ve alluded to this at other times, but I think ECT has had an effect on my thinking ability too. It’s hard to know for certain, as depression can stunt your cognitive abilities too, but I am not as sharp as I used to be. My partner often says that I’m slow. I am not very quick on the uptake at times. I find it harder to think and harder to solve problems. My arithmetic seems worse than before.My concentration is poor. Even when I’ve been a little high, I don’t feel as capable as I did before. Things I used to find easy can be a challenge. I feel like I’m a little blunted. I pride myself on my intelligence, yet I don’t feel as bright. I wonder if I’ll ever regain what I used to have and if this will improve.

Along with the memory and cognitive effects, there is a physical side effect. The right-hand side of my jaw has been problematic ever since. It locks and it grinds. Sometimes I can’t open my mouth at all. Other times I get shooting pain right through the side of my head, where my jaw is stuck or out of place. I don’t know if there is a solution, but I suspect I will be stuck with this for ever now. It may not be anything major, but it can hurt and is annoying.

I don’t think I’d mind these effects at all if ECT had worked. If I was now stable and free of depression these issues would be worth it. It’s just that for it all to be in vain, it seems a lot to go through for no gain.

I am still disappointed. ECT had been that final resort and was something I could hold in my mind as a possibility for change. For me, I always need to know that there is another option and this was just another one that we have exhausted. When I have run out of options then I will really give up. I don’t think I’d go through it again, even though for some it can work a second time when it had not the first.

All that said, even though ECT didn’t work for me, I still wouldn’t discourage people from trying it. You have to weigh up the potential benefit with the possible effects, but if it works, I think it is worth it. It is usually only used when all else has failed and in that case what else do you have to lose? I have seen it work for others, I am just jealous it didn’t for me.

Pathways to Work…

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A couple of days ago I got a letter from the local jobcentre asking me to come in for a “Pathways to Work” interview in two weeks time. The Pathways to Work scheme is designed to get people of incapacity benefits (IB or ESA) and back into work. It is geared at people who do not have jobs and the support offered is all about work experience, improving skills and finding a job. For someone who already has a job but is just too unwell to work, this is obviously a complete waste of time.

The literature that came with the letter was even more frustrating. There were a number of “success stories” of disabled people who had successfully got into work through the Pathways to Work scheme. The disappointing thing was all of these people had got minimum wage jobs in local supermarkets, washing dishes in kitchens or working in DIY stores. There were no teachers, lawyers or accountants. No doctors, nurses or IT consultants. No one was in a managerial position. Everyone was in a basic entry-level role, with few prospects for career progression and no doubt earning very little. I know for some people, a job in a supermarket is a massive achievement, but for many it is a massive step down. Not everyone on incapacity benefit has had a poor education or learning difficulties. Some of these people are highly intelligent, highly employable and have been previously very successful until they became ill or disabled. Surely these leaflets are not providing a positive image of disability? The leaflets should be saying, “look, you’re disabled but that doesn’t mean you can’t be successful and get a great job”. Instead they seem to say, “Oh, you’re disabled so you are obviously only capable of stacking shelves in a supermarket”. It is as if disabled people aren’t worthy of aspirations and successful careers.

This poor image of disability is reinforced by the services offered. Improve your CV. Training opportunities to improve your skills and employability. Work placements and buddy schemes. Money for attending job interviews. All of these things suggest that disabled people aren’t employable and need all the help they can get to find a job. Disabled people clearly aren’t capable of thinking for themselves and writing their own CVs. It may be true that in the current climate everyone looking for a job needs help, but this all seems very patronising and demeaning.

The other impression you get from the leaflets was the familiar story that people on incapacity benefit should just pull themselves together and get to work. There was a real sense of the Government’s displeasure about people being on disability benefits. On the first page it states that Pathways to Work is a key part of the Government’s plans to get one million people off incapacity benefits by 2015. Is it really feasible that one million people will recover from their disabilities? In theory it would be great if one million people became well enough to get back into work, but to me, the answer is not Pathways to Work. The answer is improved health care; quicker access to therapy for mental health patients, shorter waiting times for knee or hip joint replacements, more research into treatment for conditions like fibromyalgia, MS and chronic fatigue syndrome. People need successful treatment and support that will help them to recover and manage their condition. Help finding a job or gaining work experience isn’t going to make them well. Yes, working can improve well being and confidence, but for many it is just not an option.

Tiresome…

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Another week has passed and I’ve not written again. I don’t know where all the time goes.

On Monday someone came from Birmingham University to interview me for Mood Disorder research. It didn’t take as long as I thought it would, but that may be because I was hardly verbose. I just generally ended up saying “yep” to every question. There were questions about your family situation and stuff. Then there was a series of questions about depressive symptoms, all of which I have experienced at some point or another. She recorded that part of the interview and the following part about mania. There were questions about agitated depression and dysphoric mania too, both of which I’ve experienced and most of my depressions are agitated.

There was a section on psychotic features, most of which didn’t apply, but there were some things mentioned that I’ve experienced and never really considered psychosis before. Those dissociative experiences and weird feelings where the world don’t quite feel right were given air time. There are times when I lose all sense of size and relativity. Paranoia too, but I guess everyone experiences that at times.

There were questions about medication and treatment. I realise now that I forgot a load of drugs that I had been on. I don’t know if it’s worth emailing to let them know. It felt weird when there were questions about hospitalisation and ECT and it made me realise just how ill I have been.

Her list of symptoms and questions made me realise that I can’t deny having Bipolar Disorder. I had experienced pretty much everything mentioned for both depression and mania (although generally not as severe on the manic side). I sometimes wonder if I’m actually just plain depressed as I spend so much more time on that side of the coin, but I can’t deny that I’ve been manic or at least hypomanic plenty of times too. More so, it made me realise that I am really quite severely ill. I often think because I have Bipolar II disorder, rather than I, it means I’m not that bad, but I guess that isn’t really the case. I’ve been lucky to have not had any real psychotic experiences and severe manic episodes, but my depressions are pretty much as severe as they get and I’ve been through a lot treatment-wise too.

At the end the girl tried to take my blood, but failed. I have really terrible veins. Small and deep. She’s given me a pack to take to my GP so they can take it instead. I wonder if they ever will find a gene or two that causes all of this.

Afterwards I completed the questionnaires she left me. Millions of ticky, or rather crossy, boxes. A lot of personality type questions about honesty, social anxiety and esteem. A section on events proceeding first experiences of illness, which for me was pretty much uneventful. No bereavements, abuse etc during my childhood.

Tuesday was fairly dull, except my father popped in for a couple of hours. He was in the area for a trade show so came over for dinner in the evening. We went to the new Fish and Chips in Alty and then came home and had cake. Good food and it was nice to see him for a wee while.

On Wednesday I saw Dr N for my fortnightly visit. I was pretty honest with him about how the past couple of weeks have been. Things have gone steeply downhill since a month ago and he was concerned. We talked about self harm and suicide again. We also talked about my social worker and seeing the NHS psychiatrist. He warned me that the NHS psych will probably try and get me to try an anti-depressant again especially considering the drop in mood over the past couple of weeks. He made some comment about “that’s all they [NHS psychiatrists]  seem to do”, which amused me. I’m worried about this though. I don’t think it is a good idea considering how bad things were when I was on them, but then I wonder because things have not exactly been great without.

I forgot to take the blood pack with me, so he’s going to do it next week when I’ve seen Dr G. No doubt I will have a meds increase to sort out as well.

This morning I had a visit from J, my social worker. It was a long one and I found it tiring. I tried to be honest with her too, talking about the increase in suicidal thoughts and the agitated anger outbursts that have been happening for a while. It was shaming to talk about wanting to hurt people and myself. I felt uncomfortable and was fidgeting a lot. She was pushing for info though and I felt obliged to supply.

I was alarmed when she mentioned the crisis team and hospital. I managed to calm her down and say that I’ve managed to keep myself safe over the past couple of weeks and I think I will be able to going forward, but even still. She agreed with me in the end and said she will not take action, but she kept reiterating the fact we could get the crisis team out. I don’t trust the crisis team and I certainly don’t want to go through the NHS inpatient experience again. I don’t want to put my family through that either. I am scared that my bloke will be shocked it was even considered. I have not really let on that things have been much worse in the past fortnight. I have to phone her or ALERT if things get worse again, although I still don’t have their number so not sure how to do that.

She wanted us to talk about what her role was and what I want her to do for me. I didn’t really have an answer as I find her a little useless and wonder what the point of her appointmesnts is. I was keen for her to liase with other services and make referrals for me though. We discussed other things out there, especially therapy. She is getting me on the list but warned me it will be an incredibly long wait, even just for an assessment. She also suggested Beating The Blues in the interim, but it’s more CBT and I’m not sure Kate had much positive to say about it. I start Creative Remedies next week and Positive Thoughts in a couple of weeks so we shall see how those go. She also suggested I tried the Day Centre in Warrington. I’ve been once before, but was too scared to talk to anyone there and left after 5 minutes reading the notice boards. She suggested she took me in and introduced me, which may be better. I said I will see how Creative Remedies go first and then decide.

There was a lot of boring stuff about setting expectations for recovery and doing things to help. It was a repetition of much of what she’s said before and got quite tiresome. She talked a lot about my work and how if I am ever to go back things will have to be different. We talked about the competitive nature of the company and she seemed appalled at the way things work and shocked that I accepted it. I think she really wanted me to consider leaving and working elsewhere, but didn’t dare say as much. I know things will have to be different, but I am not sure I want them to be so different I leave my job. We will have to see.

This afternoon I need to get down to some serious baking. My friends who get married tomorrow have asked for contributions to the buffet and bar instead of traditional wedding presents. Hopefully I can knock up some yummy contributions and everything goes well.

Hope everyone out there is okay. Take care folks xx

Clouds and Clarity…

with 4 comments

Thursday and Friday were difficult days. I haven’t felt so low and so strange for a long time. I can’t remember when I last felt like that, although I know I have before. It’s just depression in that sense is often forgotten. You cannot remember how bad it feels in between the darkest moments. I was lost in a storm cloud of depression. It was strange. I was so fuzzy,  numb, vague. I was walking through treacle, with a heavy head. I felt almost detatched from my head because it was so heavy. It was like I was carrying this bowling ball around on my shoulders. I sat in therapy and stared through people. I couldn’t take anything in or concentrate on the words floating past my head. I couldn’t concentrate on the others in group, just vague shapes sat around me. I walked back from the hospital in a daze, not noticing anything around me or where I was going.

I saw Dr N on Friday. I couldn’t tell him how I felt. I couldn’t explain the darkness inside me. He just thought it was the come-down from my holiday. He noticed the clarity had gone, but was glad I was not agitated. He almost seemed pleased that I was subdued. Maybe they really do all just want us medicated into zombies? I had hoped he would see that there was something wrong and hoped he could suggest something, suggest a fix. Of course, he is powerless, with Dr G in charge, but I still felt disappointed.

The fog has remained around over the weekend, but wasn’t as bad as Thursday. I managed to break through it at times, but it was a struggle. I kept floating off inside my head as I couldn’t break through all the mist. I couldn’t really concentrate on much. I find it frustrating. Agitation may be tiring, but I miss the productivity. I just feel heavy and leaden at the moment. I have no motivation.

I am frustrated again. I am still disappointed. I feel like I am letting everyone down. I am not doing as I should. I should be better by now. The therapy and the medication should be working. I should be feeling happy. I should be back at work. I should be productive. I shouldn’t need The Priory anymore. I feel like the one that is breaking the mould. The one that is letting the side down. Everyone else is getting better. Everyone else is on the road to recovery and I just seem to be on the road to further illness. Everyone thinks that I am making progress and that I am getting there, but they don’t know how bad I still feel.

I go backwards, not forwards. I hit brick walls and I do not want to break through them. I want to give up and I want to opt out. I take my meds and I see no improvement. I am frustrated by it all. I am ashamed by my lack of improvement. I am ashamed by the fact I am still ill. I am ashamed that I don’t feel up to returning to work. I just don’t know when this will all change. I feel like a broken record. I’m sorry.