On the edit profile page it offers the opportunity to generate a random question. Today however there's only one question on my mind: what do you do when somebody you love goes mad when you're a little mad too?
Oh it's not a very politically correct question. I could certainly phrase it much more politely, in a way much less likely to cause offence. But that was the way the question presented itself to me when I asked it of a dear friend.
Today I have had to witness from afar as one of my partners, H, goes through the gruelling process of getting another partner, B, (who just happens to be my oldest friend and one of my dearest loves) emergency psychiatric help. Obviously, the initial answer to the question, especially in this situation, is that you provide as much love and support as you can. You offer advice, you have telephone numbers handy, you provide a sounding board for the decisions of both parties.
But then what? I've recently been told that I am an incredibly self centred person. That I have to make everything about me. I sincerely hope that this isn't the case, but it would be a lie to say that this event doesn't affect me, or anybody else who loves or even knows B. It's well documented that putting a loved one into inpatient psychiatric care can be incredibly stressful and gruelling for those close to them. So, if you're already affected by anxiety, depression or any other of a myriad of problems, these can definitely be exacerbated.
I know that for me, my anxiety levels have rocketed, my self doubt is sky high (the main question clouding my mind being could I have done more to help?) and I'm reverting to negative behaviours (only minor ones like having nicotine in my vape and tugging at my nails). So, what do you do when somebody you love goes mad when you're a little mad too? My initial response is that you get a little more mad.
But I think that the most important thing is that you don't allow yourself to get worse. There's no point self flagellating; the best thing you can do, both for yourself and for your loved one, is get help of your own. I think it's obvious that this help should come both in the form of shared support with mutual friends and partners but also in the support that you as an individual need from your own friends. It might be that, as in my case, my close friend knows and has met B, but the friendship is between her and me, meaning although I'm sure the news of B saddens her, the personal effect is much less,
Of course, said friend might have studied to become a psychologist. Which is how your jokey question becomes a full blown blog post. Catharsis. Has this made me feel better? I'm not sure. But I do know that if it ever helps anybody else to know that there's somebody in the same situation and it helps them, then I'll be happy. Mind, that relies on anybody else phrasing the question the exact same, politically incorrect, slightly dopey way that I did to find this blog.
Thursday, 22 March 2012
Yes this entry is titled "Ugh". It's titled that because "ugh" pretty much sums up how I'm feeling right now!
So, I thought I was just being hormonal, but it seems that that may not be the case. I'm struggling to stay motivated for things, my dreams are getting messed up again (a surefire sign for me that I'm mentally unwell) and I'm starting to get headaches again.
I'd really rather not up my AD dose. I'm fed up of maximum doses. As such, I'm going to ask the doctor about getting a recommendation for counselling and using my health insurance to do so.
I'm never sure how much help counselling is, but I feel like it has to be worth a try.
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
Not reverted to early 2000s nu-metal (it's actually Girls' Ultimate Night In I have playing!), just my focus at the moment. Whilst I may be unhappy, especially with myself, I'm trying to focus on the little things that make a difference. Things like:
the excitement from a child who'd just discovered that a googol was a number,
or the children stopping midway through PE to come hug me,
the growing number of children who play with me at lunch times,
treating myself to a McDonald's happy meal,
weighing my target weight since before Christmas (and not just naked and on my scales!),
eating sweets and reading a book before napping,
sitting with a glass of cold wine etc.
So, yes, I may not feel able to sing along to the music because I hate my voice, but there are good things out there in the world.
Comment with one of your small things please!
Saturday, 10 March 2012
Not sure I'm going to post this. Not even sure why I'm writing it. Just... need somewhere to rant and I guess here is as good as anywhere.
So I'm being hormonal.
Nothing new there.
Tried to go out tonight, managed to stay out for the band but there was no way I was lasting any longer. When tears are running down your face whilst dancing because you're so mediocre at everything then there's something wrong.
On my drive home, I decided to try and think of things I like about myself. I couldn't think of any. So I decided that I'd start my exam marking when I got in. But the system's down. This made me feel like even more of a failure (even though I know it's nothing to do with me). So now I'm sat, with a beer (because if I'm drinking beer I'm not drinking anything more alcoholic), meandering about the internet, fantasising about cutting myself (which I won't) and wishing I didn't hate myself quite so much.
The thing is, I know academically that not only is my life "ok" it's actually pretty great. I have several amazing partners, fantastic friends, a job. But I totally feel like something's missing. There's a little part of me inside that's dead. And, when I'm suffering PMT or having a particularly bad day, that bit eats away at everything else inside me until I just can't bear to go on anymore.
I think I am going to post this. I think it might be good for other people, and myself, to be reminded that whilst I'm definitely getting better, I'm not there just yet.
Tuesday, 17 January 2012
Warning: This post contains both spoilers for S2E3 of Sherlock and possible triggers regarding suicide.
So, yesterday I watched the final episode of this season's Sherlock. I utterly adore Sherlock. I was amazed that they could make the series so up to date but still really keep the feel of the original novels. The novels incidentally are very dear to my heart as I'd never read them, and so Daniel and I took turns reading them to each other not long after we first met. (For those of you who might laugh; read somebody a story, have them read you a story; it's a lovely way to pass time, and always makes me feel a little squishy inside!)
The final episode of Sherlock was not based on one of Conan Doyle's novels (except for the ending) and I thought that it was telling. I found it hard to keep my interest in it going for extended periods of time, leading to various pauses whilst drinks were got etc. - something which hadn't happened in any of the previous episodes. I felt it was trying to be a little too clever. It seemed to be trying to comment on the rise of fame for fame's sake, a lack of trust in the media and other "hot" issues. But, in my opinion, missed the mark on all of them.
Despite this, by the end I was bawling my eyes out. I've read the Reichenbach Falls story (or rather, had it read to me) so I knew that Sherlock doesn't die. It wasn't this that caused my tears. It was the sheer empathy I felt for Watson. To have to have Sherlock's "suicide note" on the telephone, to be made to watch him jump. Suicide is a callous enough thing, but that, that was just horrific.
This blog has touched before on my opinions of suicide. And I know that people have to be in an awful position to do it. Hell, I've been there myself. Even so, it leaves me so angry when people do it. I can't even begin to explain the amount of pain I feel for the people left behind by it. And I think Martin Freeman did an excellent job at portraying the anger and sorrow in the few moments he had on screen. The speech when he is at the grave is just heartrending. He begs Sherlock not to be dead, and even though I knew he wasn't dead (and so did all viewers moments later when the camera shows him watching Watson), I couldn't stop the tears. I think it's such an elemental moment, that touches anybody who has had death in their lives but especially those affected by the sudden, violent deaths that luckily most of us avoid.
Overall, I think the portrayal of Watson's reaction was done beautifully. I just wish that I felt the same way about the story of Sherlock's suicide. I know we're meant to feel how much he loves Watson, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade - so much so he's willing to sacrifice himself for them. But, he isn't. He knows he's not going to die. All he's doing is removing his suffering at their deaths and making them all suffer at the thought of his. It's the ultimate in selfishness. Now, I know all suicide is selfish, and maybe I'm missing a clever point Moffat's trying to make about it all. But I don't think I am. I think that this was overdone for emotional tension (the phone call, making John watch, John taking his pulse, all the blood (my god so much blood)) and it ended up feeling tacky.
What are your opinions? I'm really interested to know.
Friday, 13 January 2012
So, today marks my first full week back at work.
And I'm exhausted!
I may only be working ~20hrs a week, but my god it's draining me.
At Christmas, I was really pleased to be able to tell my in-laws how much better I was doing. They even commented on how well I was looking. On Christmas Day and Boxing Day I managed not to nap.
Then I started back working. After over 2 months off, what a shock to the system! I've had to nap every day. Some days I've slept for 4 hours and still slept at a reasonable time at night.
I'd forgotten just how debilitating this condition can be.
And it's making me feel terrible about myself. I feel unbelievably useless. Both with regards to how little energy I have and the fact that I'm now contributing only about 2/3 of what I was to household expenses.
Feeling bad about myself is leading to various self harm fantasies.
Which in turn make me feel worse!
Damn vicious circles!
So, I'm being a little emo currently. With no self esteem and minimal drive.
I tweeted last night, about it being hard to know what "normal" feels like anymore. I don't just mean in regards to being "normal" but also to the worry that every bad day is actually the start of a depressive episode. That the drugs aren't working any more. That I'm losing control.
Ugh, post has turned to word vomit again. One day, I'll write a useful to other people post. Not today.
Thursday, 15 December 2011
Apologies for my extended absence. On November 1st I was dismissed from my job, with no prior warning, or expectation.
Needless to say, it threw me a little.
Luckily, I'm quite good with big problems, I just get on with trying to solve them. I just don't like letting people know. One good thing about social media, is that I could let everybody who needed to know (family, friends, anybody likely to ask about work!) know in one easy message. And then just ignore it all until I felt ready.
After 6 weeks, I finally have another job.
I originally looked at staying in search; lots of places wanted to interview me, but on hearing that I'd been sacked, or on seeing how little experience I'd managed to gain in the time I was there, didn't want to hire me.
So I looked at going back into schools.
I can now happily say that I will be working in a school as a LSA from January. It's only a part time role, and is tied to a specific child, so if he loses funding or leaves, my role goes too. However, I met the child yesterday and he is completely lovely! The school seems very nice. And during the interview the headmistress was very keen for me to be teaching in the future!
The school currently has two GTP students, so it seems hopeful that I can follow my child through to the end of school and then start training to be a primary teacher. (He's currently in yr 5 and next start date is Sept 2013).
Looking back, I've realised that the one thing I regret is doing a secondary PGCE rather than a primary one. It seemed a good choice at the time, but it just wasn't where my heart lay.
So, here's to the future. I may be very poor for the near future, but it looks bright.