Anxiety Girl Hulks Out!....kinda...ish...

I'm just back from my monthly docs appt. 

The current state of affairs is that the depression is lifting (woohoo!) but the anxiety is still pretty severe. Am signed off work for another month but this time I have actual hope that I'll be functioning well enough to go back at the end of September. 

Usually what is said between doctor and patient is confidential but I'm going to tell you what happened as I think it's important. 

I have been telling my doc (I shall call him Dr Strange) about the physical symptoms of the anxiety for the past 2 months. Dr Strange and I have a long history and I have usually found him to be very understanding, sympathetic and helpful. This is, from what I understand, an unusual situation. I have heard horror stories about GP's and their reaction to mental health issues. Someone I know and love was on the brink of having a full mental break and the family got told that it was nothing to worry about and got summarily dismissed. Things got worse, they went back to the doc who then recognised the severity of the situation. He then apologised for not taking the family and patient seriously.....

I explained to Dr Strange that I was feeling better mentally but still having problems with the physical symptoms, some of which are:

Muscle spasms in my legs which get painful by the end of the day

Tension headaches

Erratic bouts of insomnia

Shoulder and neck pain from tension

Also, (I think this is my favourite) around 10-15 mins before I have to go out anywhere, I start coughing which then leads to gagging until I have tears running down my face. This happens regardless of whether I'm going to a docs appt or to see my best mate. 

All of these (apart from the cough gagging) are actually common symptoms related to anxiety. I think the coughing is my own special 'thing'! 

The first time I explained these symptoms, Dr Strange suggested I "be less uptight". The second time he suggested I take up sports. Neither of those things were particularly helpful and I couldn't understand why he would say that. 

Surely, as a medical professional, he of all people would understand that: 

1, there is no magic switch to turn off anxiety and be less uptight.

2, people who have depression and anxiety often struggle with the simple task of leaving the house, let alone the idea of going out to do some exercise.

So Dr Strange was at the Last Chance Saloon today. 

Having been dealing with the ups and downs of all this stuff for the last 7 years or so, I consider myself to be quite well versed in what can help. However the extent of the physical symptoms have been considerably worse than I have dealt with before. That being the case, I'd done my research. Every single article that I read about anxiety had listed diazepam (Commonly known as Valium) to relieve the body of tension. This drug had been mentioned at my last appt but had been dismissed in favour of sleeping pills. 

When needed, sleeping pills can be the biggest blessing. Feeling properly rested can make a huge difference to your mood and the feeling of drifting off into a gentle slumber, instead of tossing and turning for most of the night, is blissful.  However, for me the issue wasn't so much getting through the night as getting through the day. 

I have truncated mine and Dr Strange's discussion to the salient points. 

We're discussing the symptoms and he's taking my blood pressure and checking my pulse. (The first time he's done this over the course of my last 3 appts.) Blood pressure is fine but he seems shocked to find that my pulse is racing. 

Temptation to say "No shit, Sherlock" is quelled. 

He asks what he can do to help. 

I laugh and tell him that I have no idea and that he's the doctor. There may have been a little sarcasm in my tone. 

Diazepam is mentioned in a tone that tells me that he doesn't want me to have it. 

I look him in the eye and ask him if it's because it can be addictive. He says yes. 

I'm now frustrated. I'm 39 years old and have been surrounded by various addictions all my life. 

I actually interrupt him and inform him that I am very well aware of the issue and provide him with some examples, which ends with me telling him (in what my Mum calls my "quite authoritative voice") that I have no intention of becoming addicted, that I am very well aware of the risks and that I am actually a sensible and realistic person. 

He actually looks sheepish. 

We agree that a short, very small dosage course of diazepam will (in his words) be beneficial as it will help relax me which will, in turn, make it easier for me to face the social anxiety side of things, therefore building confidence and making life generally easier to cope with. 

He ends the consultation by agreeing that I am a sensible and realistic person. 

Halle-fucking-lujah. 

For the record I am not a proponent of taking drugs for the sake of taking drugs. What I do believe is that if there is something available that can help whilst you're going through a turbulent time, then it's worth giving it a shot in the short term. 

I have 28 pills, of which 1 or 2 can be taken 3 times a day if needed. I only intend to take a dose if I feel that it really is needed. Seeing as the docs appt had caused the coughgagging and some muscle spasming due to feeling anxious about it then I took a dose when I got in. I have nothing planned for today, especially not operating heavy machinery. 

I can tell you that I am sitting on the sofa typing this and I'm not away with the fairies, my brain is functioning well and, most importantly, I just feel relaxed. When I stand up I can feel that my shoulders and neck muscles are holding less tension. My calf muscles haven't tensed at all since I've been sitting and doing this. The relief is lovely. :) 

If I can have just a week of this then it could be a massive turning point in my recovery. My body will have a chance at dropping out of adrenaline fuelled 'fight or flight' and back to a somewhat normal state. 

We also agreed to upping the dosage of my anti depressants for a month to try and really combat this illness. I had expressed that I hoped to go back to work at the end of September. He advised caution and to not feel like I had to put myself under any kind of pressure. I understand that and it was wise of him to state it. 

There's part of me that feels guilty about not being at work and the Inner Critic is telling me that I'm just lazy. But through writing these blogs, I have become acutely aware of just how bad of a situation I was in when I got signed off. I don't think I'm overstating things by saying that had I kept pushing myself to 'just keep coping' then I would be in a world of trouble by now. 

I think the main point I'm trying to make is that you know you best. You know your family best. You know when something is wrong. 

Let's be clear. I am generally not in favour of Googling symptoms. Chances are that within 5 minutes you'll have diagnosed yourself with the Plague or Mad Cows Disease. But if you have an existing illness then why not educate yourself about it?

Look at medical sites (in my case it was the NHS site) and the section that specifically deals with your condition. Chances are there may be something there that could be helpful that your doctor might not have suggested. Even things such as meditation, or eating certain foods or kite flying! Who knows?! 

Treatments are not 'one size fits all'. What works for one may not work for another. But you will know what works for you. Don't ignore that gut instinct. If you find that you approach a medical professional with options and they are flat out dismissive and refuse to listen, then find another one. 

Dr Strange was on the ropes today. Anxiety Girl went slightly Hulk, stated her case and the result was that Dr Strange concurred with her. 

Dr Strange has earned a reprieve. 

Sometimes there is a need to fight and sometimes there is a need to let go. Only you will know which is the right time to do either of these. Or both. I had to let go before I could find it in me to fight. :) 

Listen to your instincts. 

Love,

Anxiety Girl xoxo

Self Esteem in the superhero world

I wish I was Tony Stark. Not the suit or the money (although both would be nice!) but that absolute confidence in who he is and what he can do. 

But even superheroes can be affected by emotional problems. I loved that Iron Man 3 dealt with his PTSD after the events in New York. I think that's why I connect with these stories and characters so much. Bruce Banner (as seen in The Avengers) had basically become a recluse after the Hulks' rampage. And don't even get me started on Loki. That boy has some serious issues! 

Before this turns into a fangirl lovefest about the Marvel cinematic universe, the point I'm trying to make is that every single one of us, regardless of circumstance, can have trouble with holding onto what's good about ourselves. 

I was powerfully reminded of this after I published my last blog post. The response was beautifully overwhelming to say the least. 

To all those who contacted me and had words of kindness, love and support, I am so very grateful and thankful. I'm trying to think of words to convey the effect it had on me but there aren't words big enough. I shall just say that I love each and every one of you. <3 

I was talking to the friend that was involved in the Dementor post. She had some words for me, which I expected. I had warned her beforehand that it was not a pretty read and she had every right to react in whatever way she wanted to. During that talk I realised (and told her) that this can really be a selfish illness. It can be so hard to deal with someone who's having mood swings for no apparent reason. I have nothing but the utmost respect for any person that bears the brunt of that. The fact that she took the blog post calmly and was prepared to talk it through again reinforced just how amazing this woman is and how lucky I am to have her in my life. Who's the superhero in this situation? :) 

I seem to have wandered off the original topic so I shall hastily come back to it. 

Self Esteem. 

From my perspective, it's hard to come by and even harder to keep. I envy those who have it and I want to boost those that have little. We are all unique individuals, each with our own talents and skills. So I'm going to make a list of the things that I know I'm good at. 

1. Marathoning TV shows.

If there was an Olympic event for this then I assure you that that gold medal would be mine! 

2. Drinking excessive amounts of coffee.  

3. Daydreaming. 

I have plots, characters, tragedy and comedy. 

4. Comfort eating. 

I'm a pro. So says the size of my ass! 

5. Fangirling. 

A much overlooked skill. It requires great mental prowess to remember so much useless information when it comes to obsessing about your chosen subject. 

6. Internal fangirling. 

This is actually very important. For example: I love the show Supernatural. Over the last few years I have been lucky enough to meet the cast at conventions. Internal fangirling (by my own definition) is basically the ability to be able to hold a normal conversation with an actor (another human being when all said and done) without laughing hysterically, crying hysterically or yelling "OH MY GOD, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!". I can do this extremely well. 

7. Looking at a photo of me and not hating it. 

This is complicated. I don't like photos of me at all. I have to put up with my face in the mirror, why would I want to look at a picture of me?!! The answer is: because of the people and the moment that that photo captures. Another example. I had a photo op with Jared Padalecki at a con. The moment itself was amazing! He was lovely, I got to cuddle him, what's not to love?! Then I got the photo back. And I hated it. So much so that I couldn't look at it. But by the end of the day I loved it. Because I remembered the moment and him and it was awesome! The same goes for multiple photos of me and my girls at the barrier at gigs. <3 

8. Babbling and word vomiting on a blog. 

This is a new entry. Some people have been kind enough to say to me that they think I'm brave for doing this. Much as I thanked them for this massive compliment, I kind of didn't get why they thought it was brave. Brave, to me, is going out and living, not being inside and typing. But then I thought about what it takes for me to post this stuff. The writing itself is great! Pouring whatever you're thinking about onto a blog post is actually a really good feeling! Then comes the moment when I have to hit 'share'. I think that's where the bravery element comes in. It takes me a good 15 minutes from finishing writing to posting. In that 15 mins it's re-reading, questioning, maybe some editing and the inevitable procrastination! In the end I just force myself to do it! Then I switch everything off until curiosity gets the better of me and I have a sneaky peek to see if anyone has read it! 

And you are reading it. And for that I am profoundly grateful. As I said to someone last night, feedback and commenting lets me know that I made the right decision to share in the first place. :) 

Making that list just made me giggle an awful lot! I highly recommend it! If you decide to make your own list then please do share it as I'd love to see them! 

Remember, we all have awesomeness within us. It's easy to forget that whilst we're going about our day to day lives. Take a few minutes out to recognise what's awesome about you. 

Love, Anxiety Girl xoxo

The Dementors Kiss

This is a very, very difficult post to write.  

I was going to refer to 'the black dog' in this post as it's a common term that most people recognise and relate to depression. Yet it makes no sense to me! I love dogs! The sight of a gorgeous four legged bundle of joy running towards you, tail wagging, wanting nothing more from you than cuddles and playtime is, to me, the epitome of joy! (Think Dug the Dog from the film, Up!) 

It struck me as I began to write that J.K. Rowling really nailed the metaphor of depression with the Dementors. A being that will suck all the happiness, hope and joy out of you. (Yep, I know. Old news.)  

I am very fortunate that I rarely drop into a full blown Dementor mood for more than a day. However, I had a full on night of it a couple of days ago. 

It happens so fast. Literally a snap of the fingers and your mood plunges so fast and so deeply that you're not aware of it until it's happened. 

I was happily chatting away to a dear, close friend on WhatsApp when I realised that she was more talkative than usual. So I asked a straightforward question and got a straightforward answer: 

"Is hubby at the pub?"

"Busted! Lol!"

*SNAP* 

Oh great. So she has no one else to talk to so I'm the last choice as usual. Look at her merrily chatting away about all the good stuff she's doing and yet she doesn't care enough about me to even ask how I'm doing or what I did in my day. Just like everybody else, she doesn't give a shit about me. 

And so on and so forth. It spirals. Once that train of thought hits, it just takes you with it. Almost all of your logical thought takes a serious back seat. You're caught up in a whirlwind of rage, sorrow, helplessness and all the time you want to spit back with words that HURT. Why? Honestly, I don't know. 

Know this about me. I love and adore my friends beyond belief. So much so that I can't put it into words. This friend in particular means the absolute world to me. Every time I see her I tell her I love her and I mean every word of it. Yet here I am, mid conversation, and I feel loathing. 

That's a horrific and horrible thing to admit and I feel such shame for even writing that, that I've physically cringed and have shed tears. 

But this is exactly what I mean by the Dementor mood. Everything becomes distorted, erratic, non-sensical. There is no logic, there is no positive feeling, there is no hope. 

A few hours in now and I am a seething mass of resentment. Again, I hate admitting that and I am so sorry for it. The conversation is brought to an ubrupt end when my friend sends me an article and some quotes, meant to uplift and help me think and sent with nothing but love, care and concern. She ends with telling me that she loves me and she's thinking of me. 

Throughout the conversation I have not told her how I'm feeling because I genuinely do not want to hurt her feelings. Even though I'm in the Dementor grip, there is a tiny part of me that knows that if I say the words that are running through my head then it may cause enough damage to end the friendship. Do not want. 

So I don't say anything. Not one word. 

Because of the mood I'm in, the article that she has sent has spiralled me off into a tornado. My Dementor brain has translated the story, about choices, change and hope, into a damning statement about what my life will never be. 

At this moment I feel utterly trapped in my own head and in my own life. I am full of indignant rage and "HOW DARE SHE?" I start to sob at the futility of my life. About how I don't have anything to look forward to. About how empty I am inside. How I feel that nothing is going to change. That it won't get better. That I have no hope. 

Again, I quote Wil Wheaton: DEPRESSION LIES. 

I had my sob and felt my rage and I let it out to the point that I was wrung out and drained. I realised that I had entered the danger zone. 

This will sound weird, but I am forever grateful that my ex decided to try and check out. Only when you have been in that situation do you realise the pain that it causes for others. I used to think of this time in my life and be so, so angry until I had a massive epiphany during my own bouts with the Dementor. 

Because of the choice he made that day, I know 100% that I will never make that same choice. But I also have a great degree of understanding about how a person can get to that place. 

I'm no longer angry about it. Yes, at the time it was beyond horrific and it really did change my life. But I am forever grateful because it installed a valve in me. (Weird metaphor but go with it). 

When I reach my danger zone and I am devoid of hope, this little valve releases something. I don't know what it is and I can't explain it. But that little release sends a message that I'm not in a good place and I need to distract myself asap. 

Distracting myself is something that I'm incredibly good at! So after a few breaths to try and ground myself, I switch my laptop on and go back to my Arrow marathon. Around 3am, Oliver Queen and co have kept me company for long enough that I'm feeling tired enough to sleep. 

I am aware that I left my friend hanging on WhatsApp and that she's probably confused and maybe a bit hurt about it. But now is not the right time to explain. I've probably picked up the phone 10 times but put it down again. My mind is too tired to construct the sentences that will help her understand. So I sleep. 

Next morning, the world is back in balance again. Never underestimate the power of sleep! 

I need to explain to her. There's already a message saying good morning and asking how I am. I say that I had a bad 'black dog' night but I wanted her to know that I really appreciated the words that she had sent and that I loved her for it. 

Because I do. 

In the light of day and being out of the grip, I saw her gestures for what they were. She once said to me "I haven't known anyone with depression before and it's difficult for me to understand but I'll always be here for you". I love that more than I can tell you. 

Whilst having one of these bursts of bad stuff, it's like I become someone else. I don't think and feel the way I usually do. Maybe that's why depression is hard to understand. Because it's all internal and you daren't voice how you're feeling for fear of hurting others or causing them to panic. 

Thanks to a mixture of medication, counselling, self examination and self awareness, these bad times are generally short lived. Like the example above, I have short bouts usually lasting an evening or so. When I sit back and look at an episode like this, I am flooded with relief and gratitude. 

I realise that although this illness affects my life, it doesn't dictate it. I still find joy in so many things. That's what my next post will be about. :) 

I have messaged my friend and explained that I want to talk about this openly and honestly. I'm not going to post this until I've heard back from her. 

To that friend, I say this: 

THIS WAS NOT YOUR FAULT. 

Nor is it mine. It just is. 

I love you for your total acceptance of who I am. For your friendship and warmth and understanding. I think it might be painful for you to read this post, that's not my intention. As you know, it took me a number of years to completely open up to you and confess that I have a shitty illness that screws with my head. 

I remember that night so well! You just gave me a massive cuddle in the middle of a crowded pub. That says everything to me. 

You've seen me at my worst over the last 12 months and you've put up with my snappy, crappy moods (autocorrect changed that to Moose! :D Freudian typo?!) and never once have you given up on me. I bet you felt like it at times! 

No one knows more about me than you do. I love you very, very much. Never forget that or doubt it. I will do my absolute best to always be here when you need me. Actually I'm might hang around more, just to annoy you! :p <3 xxxxxx 

Heavy stuff. But I said when I started this blog that I would be open about this illness in the hope of bringing understanding. 

A couple of notes: First, I am actually quite proud that I reached a grand total of, what, 3 posts?!! That's a record! Go me! 

Second: I realise that I've talked about the darker side of dealing with this so far. Rest assured that life is not all doom and gloom and I am looking forward to sharing with you guys all the things that make me happy! 

Third: if you've read this far, then you have my utmost respect and admiration and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. :) 

Love, Anxiety Girl xoxo 

My superhero power - Procrastination!

I'm sitting here laughing at myself! That happens sometimes when I can be objective and see my thinking for how it is. 

These are some things that I am thinking about. Please read these at maximum speed.  

What is my blog post going to be about?

I want to contribute something to Kerrangs' Rock Against Depression Campaign but how do I condense my gig experiences into an email that won't end up being the length of War and Peace? 

Damn, my cat is cute.

How should I write my blog? In chronological order? Should I include the proper medical stuff? How do I best explain/describe my experience without sounding patronising?

I should put some funny stuff in. That would help lift the tone. 

My Mum's daily check in text has just arrived. Must break away from thoughts and reply. Remember to reply. Remember to reply. 

Fuck it. Reply now. Replied. Back to thoughts. 

Another text. Sounds like Mum wants to go out but I don't really feel like it today. Balls. 

Reply to text saying I wasn't planning on going out. She says "ok. xx" 

Oh crap, here it comes...

YOU SHOULD TAKE YOUR MOTHER OUT. YOU ARE SELFISH AND DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYBODY BUT YOURSELF. SHAME ON YOU. YOU SPOIL EVERYTHING FOR EVERYBODY ELSE. SELFISH, SELFISH, SELFISH. YES, YOU SHOULD FEEL GUILTY. 

And at this point I call a halt to everything. I take some deep breaths. Immediately I want to continue watching Twin Peaks on Netflix just to get away from the thoughts. 

I've seen this voice referred to as the Inner Critic. (Thanks for The Guardian article Jenny, you rock!) It's the nagging voice that tells you repeatedly all the worst things that you fear about yourself. We all have it but in the case of people with mental health disorders, this voice talks constantly and is phenomenally difficult to stand up to. It's like having a permanent bully in your mind.  

(Breaking off to send text apologising to Mum and saying I feel bad about not wanting to go out). 

YES, YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE LOST THEIR MUMS AND WOULD GIVE ANYTHING TO SPEND TIME WITH THEM? 

Text back from Mum saying "no no no!! Don't feel bad!" 

Sigh of relief. 

For the record, all of the above happened in real time over a period of about 15 minutes. 

To quote the awesomeness that is Wil Wheaton: Depression lies. 

I'm not a bad person. I like to think that I do my best when it comes to the people who love and support me. 

I don't know where this is going now so I guess that's a sign to wrap up. Having read back what I just wrote, I still have a smile on my face. I guess this is a snapshot of how my brain works. Bear in mind that so far, this is a good day! 

(I just googled 'bear in mind' to check that that was correct and not 'bare in mind'. I was afraid that you guys might laugh if I got it wrong!)

So, I was writing about procrastination, right? 

Love, Anxiety Girl xoxo 

Mental Health, Robin Williams and Me

My name is Clair, I'm 39 and I have depression and anxiety. 

Over the last few days my brain has been whirling with thoughts and feelings. So much so that I have to write about it somewhere or my head may well explode. I don't like messy clean-ups so here I am. 

I've never taken a "celebrity death" this personally before. Because to me this isn't a "celebrity death". This is the death of a man who was just like me. I see so many others out there who, because of Mr Williams' passing, are now speaking up and telling people for the first time about their own history with mental health. 

These people are brave and awesome and I applaud their courage with everything that's in me. The truth is that, for most people, mental health disorders are a shameful secret. I kept my secret for a long time. Years. 

Why? Because I was afraid. Afraid of judgement, being told to 'shut up and get on with it' and the most damning of all, "other people have cancer/are starving/have way worse lives than you". 

It's true. People suffer in a multitude of ways every day in every country. Another truth is that feeling trapped in your own mind is horrific. 

I feel very strongly that the dialogue about mental health is so loud at this time that I need to add my voice. To make it louder and to keep it going for the next 6 weeks, 6 months, 6 years even. I've spoken about my experiences on FaceBook and even though my friends may not understand exactly what I'm going through, I've been met with open minds and open hearts. 

With that in mind I hope to write here about what this illness feels like, looks like, sounds like and how all of us can help deal with it. Because chances are there's someone that you know that's going through this. 

And when I say hope, I mean hope. If I'm having a bad day then my brain tells me that no one wants to hear what I have to say about anything, that my opinion doesn't matter to anyone and no one will read it anyway. 

But I'm going to try. For Robin Williams, for me and for all of us who are constantly fighting our own minds. 

Love, Anxiety Girl xoxo