Mental Health Trends and Mindfulness: Just Give Me My Damn Pills

 Current mood: wine, bitter, pissed off. Improving.

 This is going to get a bit heavy and rambly in places, as I'm not in the best one at the minute.

 I've been going through some part of the mental health service or another since I was sixteen. I'm not embarrassed about it and I shouldn't be. The majority has been one-on-one counselling, though I had some brief flirtation with group therapy; that was a fucking barrel of laughs and it's just kept getting funnier. It's been wonderful in the past few years to see more people opening up and finally talking about the matter. Yet I've noticed as more people come forward there has been more and more marketisation of services and self-help. One night, at an extremely low point, I rang the Crisis Team and was asked by the guy on the phone if I had tried a colouring book, or a mindfulness app? Of course! Because when somebody is feeling at absolute rock-bottom all the need is to do some pretty pictures or piss about on their phone. Not to mention that sleep deprivation is a key factor in many people hitting crisis point, and the light from electronic devices being proven to negatively impact those sleepy hormones, so hunching over your smart phone is obviously the best thing to do. Anyway, I'm getting off topic. 

 Mindfulness has been lauded as some sort of mental health buzzword in the past few years and honestly? My mind is totally full. I know when I'm being a dick. I know when I'm being irrational. I know why I want to behave like this, even when I know it's not healthy. There's honestly so much crap in there I've reached the brim, and I know I'm nearing boiling point. Tell me one more time to colour in and I might take that pencil to your eye. The mental health system itself has a history of taking the sticky plaster approach: treating the symptoms rather than the root cause. I firmly believe that if service users had more one-on-one work to establish the cause earlier on rather than throwing them into whatever therapy type is trendy at the time then it'd save a lot of time, money, and suffering all round. 

 Historically, if you go back one hundred years or so then the popular thing to do was stick anybody with a mental illness in an asylum. It required two doctors' signatures for admittance, but eight for a release. Fifty years ago they were handing out lobotomies like they were "i didn't bite the dentist" stickers. Twenty years ago it was all about popping pills and self-help books. Now we're in somewhat of a limbo phase of what could be a brilliant mental health service, or the lunatics taking over the asylum, so to speak.

 I get that arts, crafts, and writing can be helpful for mental health. Fuck sake, I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't! Half of the posts on here are the result of some crazed manic or depressive moment. I've been through CBT, DBT, talking therapy, psychiatric evaluation, waitings lists, medication, medication changes, medication withdrawal. And what has been most consistent through all of that is my medication. Other than the brief month I had my meds changed and I believed I was the She-Kraken from the depths of Hell. That was... Not fun. For anybody. At all. Anyway. I had my last psychiatric evaluation over a year ago now and, while I have a Community Psychiatric Nurse (CPN) to work with and she's absolutely wonderful, I have yet to have an updated diagnosis from that evaluation. And the funny part? My original referral was for eating disorder treatment. Have I had any targeted help for that? Have I fuck! 

 But after countless rounds of CBT and Talking Therapy I was finally referred for DBT with my CPN (I'm busting out all the acronyms here!) I've had a look through what DBT is and to be honest? I get it. I get what Dialectical Behavioural Therapy is, I get what it's used for, and I get how it can be helpful. However I also believe that the whole premise of how it's presented is utter bollocks. In my last appointment I was asked if I'd been remembering my something-or-others, I'll call it my 'Here Man!s' for the sake of this post. And I truly couldn't remember what it was! Because it was, like, six simple points that had been over complicated in order to sound scientific and medical. It was something to do with physical health, eating, exercise and other bollocks. But having it called a 'Here Man!' when I'm trying to finish my final year of uni, at a time when what I should be focused on learning Sociology and key feminist theory, finishing my dissertation, I'm stuck in a counselling room trying to remember what 'Here Man!' stands for. And it isn't even that word, it's some other twisted acrostic poem to make the whole practice of therapy sound more scientific and weighted. Almost like those stupid songs or rhymes you learn in maths and science classes to calculate average speed and other bollocks. I can understand to others that it might make the therapy type seem more 'real' and 'provable', but to me it just makes me want to punch whatever bastard came up with them in the face. I get the principles, I get the helpful methodology, but asking me to remember what 'Here Man!' means makes me feel tested. It puts performance pressure on me in a space where I've come for treatment and I can't do it. It's like asking for help and then being reminded that you're under exam conditions and that you're the failure for not remembering it. 

 My CPN said to me this week that I seemed unusually distracted. She's used to me spacing out sometimes but this session was rife with periods of me staring off into space, partially listening and not really taking anything in. And I wholly agree. I felt that I'd failed, not remembering what 'Here Man!' stood for, as it was something I should have been practicing in order to get better. But again, when you're at such a low point that you don't even want to get out of bed or open your eyes, do you really want to waste your time trying to remember what the H, the E, the R, the other E, etc, all stand for? 

 One of the suggestions from this session was that I check out something called the Recover College Collective. It offers BTECs and stuff and helps with mental health apparently, it's like peer-mentoring for crazy people. I had a look at the 'prospectus' with my CPN and, while it sounds interesting, I completely zoned out. Emotional regulation through interpretive dance? Art classes? Writing? This is the shit that turns me off therapy. I'm sick of sticking fancy labels on simple concepts to make them sound more credible. I'm sick of colouring books being the cure-all solution for anxiety. Because when people hit a bad patch, try these things, and they don't work, we feel like failures. We feel like we're failing at getting better. And it's not fun. It's really not fun.

 I'm not writing this as something against these therapy types or anything else, I'm writing it from my experience. Giving something a stupid name and label doesn't make it a cure, and it doesn't make it helpful. It might make it sound more credible to those who try to measure it as a biological experiment, but for me it just means frustration. It means headaches I don't need, reading I don't want to do, and interacting with new people that I don't want to meet. All I want is a therapy type where somebody will tell it how it is, without making it sound either sciency-fancy or arty-farty. Is that too much to ask?


 Note: this isn't me condemning these therapy types, I can't stress that enough. But shoving them down somebody's throat when they're already sick to fucking death of saying 'help, I don't understand' isn't helpful.

No, I Don't Want To Be Your Friend

Every now and then, as I'm sure you all do, I get a friend request from somebody from my past. Old friends I've lost touch with, acquaintances, and - most bizarre of all - from old bullies. In the years I've been on social media I have yet to fathom why somebody who has made my life hell at some point would think I'd like to get back in touch with them; maybe they think I've forgotten about it and moved on, maybe they think what they did wasn't too bad, or maybe they didn't even realise they were a bully. It puzzles me.

This is normally the part where I'm told "oh, you're oversensitive, move on", but when something that you have indeed moved on from comes back and shakes itself in your face it's hard not to let it gnaw at you. And I'm entitled to that anger. It may not be healthy, maybe it is, I don't know but it works for me. And I also dislike people who aren't my psychiatrist telling me how to manage my emotions, so opinions to yourselves on this one please.

But what I cannot stand is, after receiving a few requests from somebody and ignoring them several time, thinking they'd get that I don't want anything to do with them, I received a message from them. If anything it was an intrusion. Part of me said I should just delete it, but another told me to read it and really let them have it. It would be a wonderful outlet for all of the rage they brought up for me each time they tried to get back in touch.

I won't post screenshots as I didn't grab any, I didn't want a digital reminder of them every time I went back through old posts. It was a partial apology, albeit insincere, though I found the rest rather troubling. It went into how they would really like to meet up and talk feminism and old times. Yes, after having stated that "old times" meant physical and mental violence and intimidation.

 That really bugged me, trying to play on my interests to make me think maybe they aren't so bad, maybe I should give them a chance. Maybe fucking maybe. Maybe fuck off? A half-hearted admission of guilt and now calling yourself a feminist doesn't absolve you of past sins. Sure, you may be into equal pay and abortion rights now, but to me you will always be the person who tripped me, pushed me, called me fat, and advised me rather nicely to kill myself. Which at the time you made seem like a rather appealing option, but I wasn't going to give you the satisfaction.

 Trying to use something I'm so passionate about, something which had given me back my self-worth and self-esteem, to try and make yourself feel less shitty is a dick move. In fact it's beyond that. It makes me want to sink to your old levels and scrub your face into a wall, just because I can and I would if I got the chance.

I've done it before though, attempted to reconcile with a person who did a shitty thing to me. In fact she's up there in the top three of people who have done the most damage to me. A toxic mutual friend, who I cut from my life afterwards, pushed me into meeting with her. I resisted but when I ran into them by coincidence I caved. And I felt helpless. I still seize up and get tense when I think about her hugging me and telling me how good it was to see me, how happy she was I was giving her another chance. There was no apology. This person had spread rumours and tried to turn friends against me. Not in a petty "she said this about this person" way, but something very damaging which stopped me from getting help, internalising the issue, and becoming self-destructive.

After I got home that day I made sure I would have no contact with her or the friend who had forced the meeting again. I felt dirty just thinking about her, and the slimy way she had tried to pander to me. I made a promise to myself that day that I'd never let anybody make me feel that way again.

So the other day while reading that message, reading how that person was all good and sorry now, and wanted to make amends for telling me I needed to get raped and that he hoped I died etc, I could only think of one response:

Soz dude, Doctor's orders ╮(╯▽╰)╭

 Short, simple, and says what I need to say. I wasn't going to dignify that person with a calm, collected, and sharp response. I was going to let them stew, realising that he won't be able to mentally wank over what a good person he is for apologising to me and being forgiven. I don't owe anybody forgiveness. It might sound unhealthy but in all honesty I never intended to be liked my everybody, so I'm going to keep on having my ranty bipolar rambles and reserving my time and energy for people I actually give a shit about. 

 In short, I've written this for future reference, to pass on to anybody so up themselves to try this in the future. So if you received a link to this in response to a message you sent me then no, I don't want to reconnect with you, kindly crawl back under your rock and let me carry on thinking you don't exist. This is my way of coping and moving on. I suggest you do the same.

A Belated Happy 2016...and smashin' those Gender Norms (TL,DR: getting a bloke flowers)

 Happy New Year dear readers! We're only what, two weeks into it so this is quite good timing for me. I've been trying my best to keep busy around the house so for once it's in a fantastic state, I'm rather proud of myself. Depressions and anxiety can really get in the way of keeping your living space tidy, you don't want to get out of bed let alone do anything productive yet at the same time you panic about getting everything done, what people will think of the state of your home, how miserable it's making you being in such an untidy environment...it's a vicious cycle. But since New Year I've felt fantastic, staying on an up-spell for a whole fortnight does come with the panic of "when will I be back to being miserable? oh dear, oh dear", but I'm doing my best not to think that way and just enjoy the positivity. It's the happiest I've felt in about six months.

Clear house, clear head!

 Now, down to business...

 My relationship seems to be the best it's been for a while too, probably to do with me feeling better about myself; I love Paul unbelievably but I'm sure many of you with similar conditions also find it hard to appreciate your partner when you feel awful about yourself, and generally feeling not much fun to be around. So since I've been feeling better about myself I've started putting more work into my relationship. It got me thinking too: What little romantic gestures would really make me smile? Then it hit me.

 I've only gotten flowers twice in my life, once from my Dad and once from Paul after he scared me; we'd just gotten the landline installed and he rang up after he finished work, putting on a creepy Gollum voice. It really freaked me out and I may have cried a little bit, so I rang his mobile in hysterics to tell him about the creepy guy that'd just been on the phone. Bad Paulo! But these were totally unprompted, no scaring involved, and I made a cute little card later in the week which I slipped into his jacket pocket before he left for work the next morning. 

 It can be hard to keep a relationship fresh after nearly five years. You can both get a bit lazy, it's something Paul and I are both guilty of but we're both working to turn that around. We're working on having at least one night a week just for the two of us, sort of a date night. Simplicity is a good starting point too, a hug and a 'how was your day?' to a coffee and a cuddle and small acts that build towards bigger things and keep that bond strong.

 Now, going back to the flowers. Out of interest I thought I'd google "getting a guy flowers", just to see what the current status-quo consensus on it is. Two of the top results were 'What gifts for men are equivalent to flowers for women?' on Reddit and 'Help! What's The Man-Friendly Equivalent of Sending Flowers?' from Glamour.com, containing the quote "Of course you can send guys flowers, but I just feel like they don’t appreciate them the way the ladies do." and a link to a delightful sounding article titled "Want to Know What Blow Jobs and Flowers Have in Common?. To save your poor face from the palming it would get I've read the second article for you: apparently you're not allowed to ask for either. *pause here to make a cuppa and calm down/shout to your partner/housemate/pet about how stupid this is*. 

 Just NO! No on all of those fronts. The look on Paul's face when I gave him the flowers was one of gratitude. Other articles I've looked at seem to say that the only acceptable time to send a man flowers is as a Get Well Soon or other non-romantic gesture, why?? They look nice, they smell nice, they really brighten up a room and draw the eye away from any clutter lying around. If a guy likes flowers why not send them? There's nothing 'feminine' about things that look or smell nice, and even if there was then what's wrong with feminine things!? It doesn't make them weak or soppy, in my eyes if you dismiss and dislike something on the grounds that it's feminine then you really don't have much respect for women.

 And as for asking I don't see what's wrong with that either, I asked Paul if he'd maybe get me flowers sometime and he asked the same from me - reciprocation is necessary in relationships! How else will you know what your partner likes?

 And yes, please apply the above advice to blow jobs too.


UPDATE:

 Just thought I'd include this as proof that I'm not putting words in Paul's mouth ;)

 And I'm very angry at this God bloke at the minute too, he really needs to work on his aim. He can't keep going after every 69 year old until he gets Trump. He better stay the hell away from Tim Curry! RIP Alan Rickman <3

One Hell of a Hiatus!

 Greetings lovely people! 

 As the title of this post suggests the past...bugger, almost year has been one hell of a hiatus. Now where to start...

Seizures

 Success! After many tests, trial and errors and tears I finally have a diagnosis. I turns out that I'm not epileptic but instead I suffer from Non-Epileptic Seizure Disorder (NES). It seems a bit strange that the condition doesn't have it's own name, the term NES referring to what it isn't rather than what it is but the subset I suffer from is specifically Psychogenic NES - Dissociative seizures. In simple terms it is seizures brought on because of extreme emotional/mental distress, in my case getting so stressed/anxious/lost/wound-up that my brain would overheat and shut down. Not fun.

 Luckily with having a diagnosis it's made it easier to treat. Then again it happened the other way around for me, having gone to my GP about depression/anxiety in February, starting on medication in April and not getting a definitive diagnosis until September. My GP did advise that I contact my neurologist about and when I saw him for my last appointment he was absolutely wonderful, very reassuring and stressed that NES is a legitimate condition and not something that I'm making up or something utterly unknown that's wrong with me. 

BPD

 As a result of further therapy and other related...everything I've been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. Again, it's not fun but it's nice having a diagnosis. I'm still waiting on (surprise surprise) more therapy. It definitely explains a lot anyway; my mental health has been constant extremes from one to another and I'm looking forward to achieving some state of normality. 

My low point was definitely last month. The doctors' surgery that I go to is split between two practices, I was already having a bad, bad day and, when going for a medication review, it turned out that I'd gone to the wrong practice. My Mam was due to pick me up from the one I'd went to after my appointment and I'd spend a nice day with her and my niece. Instead the receptionist informed me in a very, very rude way that I wouldn't make it to my appointment at the other practice in time and that I should pay closer attention; then threatening to place a note on my record there that I was unreliable to turn up to appointments. Because it's totally my fault that because of seizures I'm not allowed to drive, public transport is rubbish and the member of staff who made my appointment was rather ambiguous on which surgery it was (I've been going to just one of them since I was...born). 

 On hearing that news, my Mam taking me over to the other surgery and being told that the doctor I was seeing had already gone to a meeting it resulted in somewhat of a breakdown. It's the first time that my niece has ever seen me in that state and I really, really hope that it's the last. It's not something a three-year-old should have to see; luckily I'm on the waiting list for more specialised therapy so it shouldn't be happening again.

Wedding Planning...

 My Bridal Minions are awesome! I'm not using the term 'maids' because of having a mixed-gender team, plus it just seems like a rubbishy word. I'm well on track with dresses, close to getting a venue booked and decorations are well on track! :D one positive that's been ongoing. It might seem like a stress but I'm having fun with it, 18 months to go!

Stormageddon

 Stormageddon turned two this month, we had a little party for him - isn't he lovely!? Grumpy as ever, gorgeous as ever.

 Anyway, more exciting posts to come! Auf Wiedersehen for now <3