tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79159164254962971232024-03-19T07:30:08.703+00:00Mentally (Ch)illUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-5136399893784152152022-05-24T18:27:00.001+00:002022-06-12T18:31:57.463+00:00Starting from scratch<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMY3cG7p2Ejnm82qSW8tFdtItzZ6BN458i5iSiqKBT-uPwZ8N1JcWMCo5zet9XksGtnIDENauYfdrPI_qdErwLvmS9VzIwtyZ6Cc-lSfnDcGPjFEOK9X-RknTUzy5lubO3_MpeBEtjIMzi-2iLKI5f9ubWLkSaMHYRdLlLIDTXValWArrn9ShdRxJHwg/s1920/girl-1245773_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMY3cG7p2Ejnm82qSW8tFdtItzZ6BN458i5iSiqKBT-uPwZ8N1JcWMCo5zet9XksGtnIDENauYfdrPI_qdErwLvmS9VzIwtyZ6Cc-lSfnDcGPjFEOK9X-RknTUzy5lubO3_MpeBEtjIMzi-2iLKI5f9ubWLkSaMHYRdLlLIDTXValWArrn9ShdRxJHwg/w419-h279/girl-1245773_1920.jpg" width="419" /></a></div><br /><br />Have decided that I’m gonna have to get back into blogging ... cause life is crushing my soul and I feel like I’m headed full speed off a cliff, so if I don’t find an outlet I’m in big trouble. <br /><br />I’m gonna start by giving some background. I’m not sure if anyone will even read this blog, and that’s OK, but should someone find me, I’d like to give some clue into who I am and how I got to this chapter of my life. At least the key points. <br /><br />I’m SJ and I’m a single mum to a 15y son who I will refer to as <i>“Teen”</i>. I have a partner of almost 3 years, <i>“B”</i> who I love with all my heart. I live in the west coast of Scotland and I’m trying to navigate my life living with chronic pain. <br /><br />In 2020, I started to notice weird pains in my abdomen that escalated to blood in my stool. I’ve been jumping between diagnostic tests since but we’re still trying to figure it out. Late 2021, I started to get pains in my left foot which felt like pins and needles, and it progressed up my leg and down my lower back from my butt. Tests were done to see if this was connected to my bowel issues but after I started to lose feeling in my leg, it was decided that its probably nerve damage that may/may not improve and the bowel issues were separate. The pain in my leg and back is spreading and in spring 2022, I started to lose grip strength in my right hand, which has now landed me a referral to a neurologist as I’m hitting markers for MS, which could account for inflammation showing in my bloods. <br /><br />I’m currently trying to work out my place the world, as a physically disabled woman and its very hard. I specify <i>“physically”</i> as I have been living with mental illness for the last 15+ years of my life, though that’s just from when I was given an official diagnosis. So what’s wrong with my head?? We’ll I have severe clinical depression (referred to as major depressive disorder) as well as an anxiety disorder. I’ve also been diagnosed with C-PTSD and mild agoraphobia, so there is a lot going up in there. Slowly but surely my body is trying anything and everything it can to kill me, and I’m so scared that soon it might win one way or the other. <br /><br />So, to try and process/adapt to everything, I've decided to post in my blog. Like an online journal and hopefully I can look back on it one day and see a positive change. <br /><br />Fingers and toes crossed.<br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-18411813304669723952021-09-14T17:51:00.005+00:002021-09-14T17:51:54.133+00:00Keep on keeping on<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrhdVLq7WRg1McDKt_FiFM1YCXKK9AjJl9e-TRYcFoFqylWB2IHXfJLVKenFx6TZorebsiuyKf30I_mtD4K2wxHKja-5NjHlABdzkU3zW3SAYy6fd_6US0qi9yqwlFbpJJ37G6uerljniu/s1280/road-220058_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="878" data-original-width="1280" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrhdVLq7WRg1McDKt_FiFM1YCXKK9AjJl9e-TRYcFoFqylWB2IHXfJLVKenFx6TZorebsiuyKf30I_mtD4K2wxHKja-5NjHlABdzkU3zW3SAYy6fd_6US0qi9yqwlFbpJJ37G6uerljniu/w500-h344/road-220058_1280.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><br /><p></p>I managed my driving lesson and I’m so relieved. <br /><br />This past weekend has been a bit of a blur. I was on a lot of heavy-duty pain killers and there are parts of the weekend I don’t fully remember. Understandable and I guess why I was put on bed rest. Yesterday though I reduced my meds. Probably not a good idea but I needed to be functional today as it was my first lesson in an automatic car and I needed to be alert. <br /><br />My lesson went great. Was a little strange at first as every previous lesson starts with the clutch but today was clutch free – which subsequently meant I ended the lesson relatively pain free. I’m not saying the clutch was the cause of the issue cause obviously that’s not the case but being able to rest my left leg made a world of difference. And bonus points, the instructor has space for me as I can learn during school hours as opposed to the youngsters learning who need after school times. Score one for the old biddy. <br /><br />It’s made me feel a little hopeful again. That although it’s not the original plan, it’s still going to get me to the end goal – learning to drive. And with zero anxiety today too, I’m hopeful that last Friday will have just been a glitch. <br /><br />I’m determined to maintain some form of normality throughout all this. Even if it means having to do things I might not have considered before. Like a walking stick for example. The GP had suggested it to help steady me but to me that’s something that older people need, not me. But that’s my pride getting in my way and I need to accept that. If a walking stick will help me move about then so be it. Which leads me to a mobility scooter. I can’t walk long distances, even with the stick and that stops me being able to do things with M that I wanna be able to do. <div><br /></div><div>He wants to go to Glasgow this Christmas like we used to do. He seems to be trying to get a bit of normality back too and I want to give him that so badly. After Covid and then my health deteriorating, he deserves something as simple as a day out with his mum. But the only way I can do that is via a scooter or a wheelchair. It’s not where I thought I would end up. It’s quite upsetting to feel so betrayed by my body and part of me feels like it’s disrespectful to people who need chairs full time but again that’s my pride. My need is valid. I have a disability and I need to get my head round it sooner or later, to try and recover a least some of the enjoyable parts of life. Plus I would give that boy the world if I could so I need to do what ever it takes. <br /><br />Pride be damned!<br /> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-5415009280915957022021-09-10T18:27:00.003+00:002021-09-10T18:27:40.382+00:00I feel broken<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0IOlwW8p3NLsJk2iVR43X0KsmwR2NcPCMAQtstjlf-ugUSm_CNOEqwU0KyI1NgjuTKmfYr427cVVc4keXr-g9IlABqVA9VsMXTeB9lYVNdnAogxIXwawy6GlmzSqBH6sxStb0JkReTKR/s1940/20210910_180620_0000.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1388" data-original-width="1940" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0IOlwW8p3NLsJk2iVR43X0KsmwR2NcPCMAQtstjlf-ugUSm_CNOEqwU0KyI1NgjuTKmfYr427cVVc4keXr-g9IlABqVA9VsMXTeB9lYVNdnAogxIXwawy6GlmzSqBH6sxStb0JkReTKR/w538-h385/20210910_180620_0000.png" width="538" /></a></div><br /> It's not a good day and I'm feeling kinda hopeless at the moment. <br /> <br /> Back in May I made the decision to start driving lessons. I was at the end of my rope mentally and the <i>"intrusive thoughts"</i>, or brain goblins as I call them were starting to make sense. Which is never good. I had hit rock bottom and I had to make the decision to either do something drastic positively, or I wasn’t going to make it. So, I asked around, made some calls and I booked my first lesson. <br /> <br /> I loved it. I felt like it was something I was meant to do and my instructor said I was a natural at it. I had found my key. The way out of this cage I found myself in. Agoraphobia at least for me is centred around busy public spaces. Buses for example trigger me slightly as it feels overwhelming. The sounds, the smells, people moving about, being enclosed ... it makes me agitated and causes anxiety to build. Yet being in a car (an admittedly smaller enclosed space) I can deal with. It gives me a bit of normal life too. I can jump in the car and go see B, I can take a trip down to see my family in England. Fuck I could go to a 24h Tesco at 10pm when it's quiet and do my shopping. It means freedom. <br /> <br /> Today that freedom was almost taken away from me. <br /> <br /> I was driving along quite able when my left leg seized up and I couldn't push the clutch down. No big deal except I was at a busy round about and since the car behind me saw me start to move off, moved forward. I stalled the car and couldn't push my foot down to restart the car, with traffic queuing behind me. It was the first time my body acted up during a driving lesson and it was at the worst possible time. For the first time I felt anxiety behind the wheel and I hated myself for it. How dare those goblins touch this. Driving is mine. Its the thing I look forward to. Its the thing that will hopefully give me a bit of my life back, and here they are somehow contaminating it. <br /> <br /> I got us into town, where I was getting dropped off for a doctors appointment and my instructor spoke to me. He said he can tell on the days when I'm in pain. When I'm pain free I'm changing gears no problem, Great clutch control. But on my pain days its not as smooth. He recommended I try an automatic car and focus on that. My heart sank a little but at least its a way to still learn to drive. <br /> <br /> Still angry at myself I went for a coffee before my Dr's appointment and whole sitting there I was getting more and more frustrated. For over 6 months now I've been having issues with my back. I can only walk for so long before my spine almost locks. The muscles around my ribs start to tighten and it makes breathing harder and my left leg seizes up. Sciatica was discussed before so I was put on gabapentin and told to keep taking the co-codamol. It's usually only been an issue when I'm walking or lifting things so I tend to plan days of rest in between. It's restrictive but doable. Till today at least. <br /> <br /> I got to the doctors and my GP called me in. She saw how I was walking and was instantly worried. Some poking, prodding, pushing and pulling later she was even more worried. There is deterioration of muscle movement in my left leg and she's not sure if it's muscles spasming or nerve damage. More pills. More referrals and while there more bloods and I'm home with strict instruction to stay in this weekend and take heavy duty narcotics. She was clearly worried and after her warning; if at any point I expel my bladder or bowels without realising/feeling I was doing it, I've to go straight to the hospital. I'm now worried. <br /> <br /> Scratch that, I'm devastated. <br /> <br /> Slowly but surely my body is breaking down and I can't seem to stop it. While waiting for tests I'm in limbo and due to Covid there is such a huge backlog I have no idea when those referrals will be picked up. Till then I'm just here, angry at my body for failing me. <br /> <br /> People keep telling me not to be angry but it's not that easy. It's hard not to be angry when I feel like parts of my life are being taken away from me. I'm not even 35 and yet I have the body of someone you'd expect to be in there late 80s. I'm angry and if I'm honest with myself I'm scared. This started as blood in my stool and now I'm facing possible nerve damage - which isn't even connected to the possible IBD that they are looking at. I have no idea what could happen next and its terrifying cause while no one knows what's going to happen, my body is clearly malfunctioning. <br /> <br /> I feel broken.<p></p><!--StartFragment-->
<!--/data/user/0/com.samsung.android.app.notes/files/clipdata/clipdata_bodytext_210910_192236_005.sdocx--><!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-38662520746781087992021-08-15T16:52:00.003+00:002021-09-10T17:17:07.856+00:00I've been robbed<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxMd_vgXCEMSIH_rFJnmHjtoCK4wWBP_7Dt6Hb_nXKqIqJaE8H-_2YTzQC6R_LRc21NmlboXpK_T4Gqo_By-UvodAZ4Sct3FqlBvfxxHST0eyBfrm_6Cg7cJwd1UjzUMnnic_drVG7sxW2/s1940/20210910_180551_0000.png"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxMd_vgXCEMSIH_rFJnmHjtoCK4wWBP_7Dt6Hb_nXKqIqJaE8H-_2YTzQC6R_LRc21NmlboXpK_T4Gqo_By-UvodAZ4Sct3FqlBvfxxHST0eyBfrm_6Cg7cJwd1UjzUMnnic_drVG7sxW2/w419-h300/20210910_180551_0000.png" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /> I feel like I've been robbed. My life has been taken from me. <br /><br />Today I had to sit in my sisters car in tears cause I couldn't join in with a family day out and it's making me so angry. <br /><br />Something as simple as a walk around a country park would have been a literal walk in the park for me just 2 years ago but now my body just won't let me. If my abdomen doesn't sabotage me, my spine will lock up and the muscles and nerves will physically stop me. Why I have no clue. Being on wait lists means I've no idea how close to a diagnosis I am and in the mean time my body is slowly getting worse. <br /><br />How have I ended up here? How can a stomach ache and a bleeding butt take me all the way to my body rebelling? <br /><br />I wasn't prepared. I'm not ready to say goodbye to that part of my life. I don't know how to live like this. It's not "my" life, this is something else and I don't want it. <br /><br />But what if I can't go back? I don't know if I can live this life.<!--/data/user/0/com.samsung.android.app.notes/files/clipdata/clipdata_bodytext_210910_175143_759.sdocx--><p></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-88499175844686560732021-07-20T22:17:00.000+00:002021-07-20T22:17:10.243+00:00Working towards my craft room<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Hube10HiJg-gGGBJVJG4bjFhrg5Z3ueJzl6km-YUQHCME-a2kCSn0sPlepjoKG-kGQ_z3bMFgC0OVRETcUXTXLUUa6AL-8KxtbEJAO3vhAr2pbAHws5QL1EnSHuB4fxboMXH5OiwpjF3/s1603/stitch.png" imageanchor="1" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1073" data-original-width="1603" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Hube10HiJg-gGGBJVJG4bjFhrg5Z3ueJzl6km-YUQHCME-a2kCSn0sPlepjoKG-kGQ_z3bMFgC0OVRETcUXTXLUUa6AL-8KxtbEJAO3vhAr2pbAHws5QL1EnSHuB4fxboMXH5OiwpjF3/w545-h365/stitch.png" width="545" /></a></div><div><br />I want a craft room. <br /><br />I have for the longest time and I have a small box room in my house spare so it’s weird that I never actually had it. <br /><br />It was a promise that my ex used to say. <i>"I promise we’ll get it sorted". "I promise we’ll get it started this weekend". "I promise you’ll have it by XYZ"</i>. But it never came to fruition. And when we split 2 years ago, I never got round to it either. The spare room just became a dumping ground for everything that didn’t have a space and as time when on it became so unmanageable that the idea of tackling it was daunting. <br /><br />That was until a few weeks ago, I was having a manic moment and decided that I was fed up and wanted to throw everything in my house out. So, I went into the room with black bags and started binning sooooo much. The way I figured it was if I haven’t used it in as long as o can remember then chances are I don’t need it and it can go. 12 bags down and I’m still binning stuff. There is so much crap in there that a hoarder would feel at home but I’m starting to lose my momentum. Between pain flares and the heat of the summer, I’m hitting a brick wall and I’m only half way done. <br /><br />It’s started to bleed out though into other parts of my house too. I have a pantry where we store the tinned foods and whatnot, and I’ve been going through that trying to make it nice and streamlined. I’ve gone though the teens room and binned old stuff he doesn’t use/need (with his permission) and I’ve gone though the units in the living room. <br /><br />I have this weird compulsion to simplify my life and I think it is connected to my chronic illness. It restricts so much of my life and I have zero control over it. My body doesn’t care if I have plans. My body doesn’t care if I have things I have to do. If it wants to go bush then it will, regardless of how I feel about it. So, when it comes to other parts of my life, I seem to be obsessively trying to micro manage. Even when it doesn’t really need to be. <br /><br />This morning I went downstairs and the teen had left a throw unfolded and had moved the cushions. I felt itchy when I sat on the sofa and couldn’t figure out why till I got up for my first coffee of the day and I folded the throw and fixed the cushion on the way past. I felt better. <br /><br />We got a food shop delivered and the teen just put the bags inside each other (which is totally fine and what we have done for a while) but something about it made me agitated so I pulled them out and folded them all into triangles and I instantly felt better. <div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpVDawkHXEtRFJmVjgtLriUff9Aeu4XRfufJjxnYq8pFmQTMfHmlSAb4lydhXLcuCFB73H3MZIpKJYxcXDH-bX2NKlYHu7SkdnvRb4BxxvxNDdh7jJ_QssY3_IbuF4ysyQPAyINl6GBon/s2048/20210720_130846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1511" data-original-width="2048" height="349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpVDawkHXEtRFJmVjgtLriUff9Aeu4XRfufJjxnYq8pFmQTMfHmlSAb4lydhXLcuCFB73H3MZIpKJYxcXDH-bX2NKlYHu7SkdnvRb4BxxvxNDdh7jJ_QssY3_IbuF4ysyQPAyINl6GBon/w473-h349/20210720_130846.jpg" width="473" /></a></div><div><br />I’m going to keep an eye on it because I can see how it could easily spiral into mild OCD. When Covid-19 hit, I developed agoraphobia which was horrendous so I really don’t want my brain to start getting compulsive over things. I’m still trying to force myself to leave the house, I don’t have the energy to fight even more with my mind. <br /><br />I’ve barely got the energy to finish the future craft room. <br /><br />Help</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-44608423840176903382021-06-23T23:12:00.002+00:002021-06-27T23:16:44.868+00:00Sex and chronic pain<!--StartFragment-->
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhci2TfgHKcjW0fMMFNcwccLyVKaGd5SWE_ajJPuIVAHglSb_9AOTr0_VFyj0ihWw9pcyimaljUg0uVKMY-SM-PNb9Tv1cx1VbGvCU8OKOwDOPoupuuTJWpmUSuXlRvtSoOxzKRkYytd_o6/s612/bed+hands.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhci2TfgHKcjW0fMMFNcwccLyVKaGd5SWE_ajJPuIVAHglSb_9AOTr0_VFyj0ihWw9pcyimaljUg0uVKMY-SM-PNb9Tv1cx1VbGvCU8OKOwDOPoupuuTJWpmUSuXlRvtSoOxzKRkYytd_o6/w459-h305/bed+hands.jpg" width="459" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’ve been feeling kinda down the last week. More so than normal.
I’ve been dealing with a bad pain flare that just won’t fuck off and I found
out last Friday that my biopsy came normal. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now I know that I should be glad. I mean it could have come
back something really horrible but at the same time having a normal result
means that I’m back to square one with trying to figure out what’s going wrong
inside me. And that’s the part that I’m struggling with. It’s been a year now.
A year of random intense pain mixed with bouts of failing mental health and I’m
kinda done. I wanted to know what was going on so I can get it fixed but instead
I’m just stuck here in pain still.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I don’t care what anyone says, pain changes people. It
changes how you feel about life and it changes how you think. Not knowing if you’re
going to wake up in the morning and be able to move freely is depressing.
Having to worry about making plans in case on the day you’re about as much use
as a chocolate teapot. And then there is sex. I’m not as able to get my freak
on like I’m used to and it’s frustrating. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m not sure wither B also dealing with chronic pain
makes it easier or worse either. Part of me thinks that at least if B is in
pain too then he won’t be mad at me if I can’t have sex, but then that falls
apart because he would NEVER be mad at me anyway. If I told him, I didn’t wanna
have sex he wouldn’t ever make me feel bad about it. So that leaves me with cons.
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m scared to hurt B now when we have sex. Where my pain
is abdominal, his is skeletal. His (rather incompetent) Dr’s can’t decide if it’s
his spine, if it’s arthritis in his hip, if it’s his discs or if it’s his sciatic
nerve. All of which I can imagine will be made worse if he has a plus size
nymphor bouncing on him. And although him on top is my favourite position,
I’m kinda scared to ask him to bang me like the bottom of a ketchup bottle
cause I know he wants to but I don’t know that physically he can handle it. I
don’t ever want him to feel bad about our sex life. It’s such a fun, important
part of a relationship, I never ever want him to associate it with negativity.
I’ve lived that life and it kills couples.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m trying to come to terms with my new normal. It’s not
easy but I’m gonna have to get on board. What I’m not ready to accept though is
not having a sex life. I will cry repeatedly and possibly break stuff if I
can’t get that itch at least a little scratched. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<!--EndFragment-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-72817849881266809082021-06-01T16:32:00.001+00:002021-06-15T23:31:21.251+00:00One small step for my relationship ...<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Bil6_moAhb8pRPTPtsCmQPneVIARBPt6CzVYr5PueO-r8qNEHD_dW6xE0cMuoRG53abOY4D-S74y-c2rPjJm9sJCebpZk0esRHuKWvetoVLwZaWiMzobEDQTNVSTk2-jU3jTcP-KWB1I/s1920/couple-1031639_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Bil6_moAhb8pRPTPtsCmQPneVIARBPt6CzVYr5PueO-r8qNEHD_dW6xE0cMuoRG53abOY4D-S74y-c2rPjJm9sJCebpZk0esRHuKWvetoVLwZaWiMzobEDQTNVSTk2-jU3jTcP-KWB1I/w553-h368/couple-1031639_1920.jpg" width="553" /></a></div><br />I’m feeling so great today and I feel like I’ve made such a huge positive step in life, both in my relationship and for my mental health. <br /><br />Let me tell you how – I saw my man! <br /><br />Its so simple sounding but after 152 days apart it was really starting to bother me. My overthinking started to make me think we were in real trouble as a couple and I missed him so much that I was really, desperately unhappy. He said he was feeling the same but as he’s always been one to downplay his feelings, so I started to doubt he really did miss me. Completely unfair to him and 100% my bad. I guess that’s part of the joys of my crappy mental health though, I can overthink myself into an abyss. <br /><br />I had really started to get down and it got to a point that I needed to make a real and proper change before I got to the point of no return. So, I made choices. And one of them was I was gonna work towards getting my agoraphobia under control so I could go see him. <br /><br />And I did it. It took me a little over a month, but I bloody did it and I made it without having a panic attack in public. Hells yeah! <br /><br />Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t easy. I really had to focus my brain and work with my GP and therapist, but it was worth it in the end as I got to be in his arms again. <br /><br />And now I feel back on an even keel. <br /><br />He is my anchor. My light in the darkness that is my messed-up mind and without him I spiralled so hard. Imagine it like being on a seesaw, I was either totally up or totally down but never level. Yet after being with him, simply existing, I felt safe. I felt comfortable in my own skin for the first time in 2021 and I felt like I was going to be ok. Its both amazing and terrifying in equal measure. <br /><br />I think it has a lot to do with us having the added BDSM dynamic in our relationship. There is a connection to him that I've never experienced before which in the wrong hands could really mess me up, but I have so much trust in him and the knowledge that he won’t intentionally hurt me and that is so freeing. <br /><br />How that works, I have no clue, but it does and I’m grateful for it.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-43370173023525444742021-04-23T11:40:00.002+00:002021-04-24T18:10:02.524+00:00Hard pill to swallow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfIFHYi3YX_DC5_psswC6QtY-WXrXQEP0WKt4ywfAA58aQmtBQZBhpHmqfKO9OVygV0lOcEzQGEB6MkkI3U9X2ecrzwdZGupSdM_lYkc-erwVIdQSD1uDzlQHRN6Egc9HK-uv2WkZPdsQ9/s2048/20210422_110110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="574" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfIFHYi3YX_DC5_psswC6QtY-WXrXQEP0WKt4ywfAA58aQmtBQZBhpHmqfKO9OVygV0lOcEzQGEB6MkkI3U9X2ecrzwdZGupSdM_lYkc-erwVIdQSD1uDzlQHRN6Egc9HK-uv2WkZPdsQ9/w430-h574/20210422_110110.jpg" width="430" /></a></div><div>I’m feeling a bit meh just now about the hospital appointment and I don’t know what to think.<br /><br />It’s been three days since my consultation with the surgeon and I’m still trying to process everything.<br /><br />Hospitals for me are hard places to be because they bring back lots of painful memories. I can’t help but associate then with pain and death, so being in them gives me serious anxiety. On Tuesday I had my appointment with the surgeon to discuss the severe pain in my abdomen.<br /><br />The GP was bouncing between Crohn’s and colitis but was also thinking it could be related to the sexy gallstones I grew myself. So, I got put on wait lists and my turn came up.<br /><br />After a chat and an examination (including a finger up the butt which I wasn’t expecting) the surgeon agrees it’s looking a lot like either Crohn’s, Colitis or Celiac disease. He wants a look inside so is booking me in for an endoscopy so he can do an intestinal biopsy.<br /><br />And I’m kinda scared.<br /><br />I know for some people it seems silly. It’s just a procedure, no big woop, but I can’t help how I feel and since it’s happening to me, I think my feelings are valid.<br /><br />All three of his guesses are life changing and that’s a big deal. I don’t know what each of them entails as I don’t feel ready to fully research into it all yet. I tried on Tuesday to learn about the procedure and it flung up words like “tumour" and I just closed the page. In 99.8% it’s nothing like that but then the brain goblins remind me I have cancer genes on my maternal grandmother’s side and my maternal grandfather’s side there has been A LOT of cancer so I can’t help but be cautious.<br /><br />Whatever the diagnosis is, each of those prospects are chronic illnesses. That means I’m going to have to learn to adapt my life yet again. It’s a little overwhelming having yet another thing go wrong with my body when I was kinda hoping it would be a case of remove my gallbladder and I’m all good. Mentally I’ve been struggling and the pain I’ve been in is horrendous but now I’m going to have to accept that no actually this isn’t a quick fix. This is something I’m going possibly live with forever.<br /><br />It’s a hard pill to swallow.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-36915926168383599012021-04-14T12:46:00.000+00:002021-04-14T12:46:38.938+00:00CBD and me<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLc4Ln86nGCTNEcV7cw-DdPlUNP2f_8UG_4SNlmslosDHTfwfHaQQBGSw8c3-FgZLCvfhBm1smXEjP2Bv3lVJt5OiGCgdA1n6TWbsSSne7bd22tGCcp8h0wo-XPbDeYAdfbZesqYnz1BQ/s1920/cbd-4558406_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLc4Ln86nGCTNEcV7cw-DdPlUNP2f_8UG_4SNlmslosDHTfwfHaQQBGSw8c3-FgZLCvfhBm1smXEjP2Bv3lVJt5OiGCgdA1n6TWbsSSne7bd22tGCcp8h0wo-XPbDeYAdfbZesqYnz1BQ/w464-h309/cbd-4558406_1920.jpg" width="464" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />I’ve never really been one for taking drugs. I guess that’s why I struggle with having to take so many prescription meds. <br /><br />The 90s kid in me still remembers all the <i>“crack is whack"</i> propaganda and I’ll be fucked if I end up like Renton (I watched Trainspotting as a pre-teen and that dead baby haunted my dreams for months! <br /><br />As I’ve got older though I’ve come to realise that certain drugs do have a place in life. Especially the life of a Spoonie. <br /><br />Not all of them mind! I’m not under any circumstances recommending breaking out the crack pipe. But I wince a little less these days at the idea of a bong. <br /><br />I was experiencing a really bad flare where I was running on minimal sleep as I was in so much pain. This also meant the brain goblins were running wild and I was starting to struggle keeping up the fight. I was handed a joint by a fellow Spoonie who promised that it would let me sleep, and he was right. I smoked my first ever joint and I slept a solid 14 hours. It was amazing. <br /><br />And contrary to the lessons of my youth, it wasn’t a <i>“gate way drug" </i>and I didn’t find it at all addictive. I did enjoy the extra <i>oomf </i>of pain relief though which I could see could be addictive. I mean who doesn’t dream of a life without pain – but I needed to find a better way. And that’s where my excessive over thinking came in handy, as I learned all about CBD.<div><br /><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV47YNah-dEEcubb6_QAat_5WcrCuaWSD9-xIbDYOCCEougOCp5rzdsHOlbY75XZC-sKQLEyxiot6NhQlpSCbwUdelSrn3CcdWqcw3BvmTkJ4kUIAkF3B4YxhlKjtqrHYwObHr60OtZUvo/s1500/thc+vs+cbd.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV47YNah-dEEcubb6_QAat_5WcrCuaWSD9-xIbDYOCCEougOCp5rzdsHOlbY75XZC-sKQLEyxiot6NhQlpSCbwUdelSrn3CcdWqcw3BvmTkJ4kUIAkF3B4YxhlKjtqrHYwObHr60OtZUvo/w550-h366/thc+vs+cbd.png" width="550" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #646464; font-family: Merriweather, Verdana, Arial, serif; font-size: 12px; text-align: right;">Verywell / Alex Dos Diaz</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />CBD is the good part to marijuana (in my opinion) as it’s the relax-y chilled out part compared to the TBC which is the laugh your tits off then eat all the chicken nuggets part. And when separated CBD is legal in the UK. Yay to not breaking the law – I’ve saw orange is the new black, I would do terrible in jail! My gobby mouth alone would get me shanked (or is it shivved?). <br /><br />You can buy CBD oils and what not in places like Holland and Barrett but it tastes like buttholes and you need to rob a bank to afford the <i>"good stuff "</i>– which would land you in jail longer just an FYI. But if you are ok with smoking, you can get stronger CBD for reasonable prices. It can also be used in tea and mixed with food but I haven't tried so I cant comment.<br /><br />I consulted with my partner throughout all this as he is more knowledgeable about a lot of this kinda stuff thanks to his job in the health sector. He found me some to try and stayed with me to make sure I was ok using it. I woke up the next morning after having a better nights sleep and didn’t have that residual groggy feeling that weed gave me. <br /><br />A year later it’s still my back up pain buddy. I have a wee pipe that I use so I don’t have to have any tobacco and I am fully functional other than more relaxed. There have been zero side effects for me and my Dr is fully aware of my use too and has no issues. <br /><br />There have been people in my life who are like <i>“oh my god you're a pot head" </i>but when I actually point out the difference, they are more accepting. Plus, it helps when they see what I’m like on the doctor prescribed medication, (I wouldn’t look outta place on the set of the walking dead), compared to after I have a few puffs of the CBD. I’m able to sit, drink tea and can hold a conversation on CBD but on the prescribed medications, I’m about as much use as nipples on men. <br /><br />So, what’s the point in my sharing this wee post? Well similar to my fighting to end the stigma attached to mental health, I’m all for ending the stigma on LEGAL methods of pain relief that don’t fuck you up half as much as the stuff the Dr can give you. <br /><br />I’m not saying quit your prescribed medication. <u>DO NOT DO THAT!</u> But what I am saying is maybe be open to other less intense (but legal) possibilities and discuss them with health professionals. </div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-61522129365961103282021-04-12T12:30:00.001+00:002021-04-12T12:30:07.736+00:00Know when to hold um, know when to fold um<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnspHbHC_vEzLLciXGKUe_eWHjsoqjgKMRnOaH9CoWBr0EaV0g-6O6vO-NYrtkeZq994IQmsYKgMGAp3c-44q9xZEbi8ttfy9Lqp9maP_dwNdda8FkeMTmlLjDQiFwi42Yi2Tt2TSfFPT/s1920/medications-257336_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1271" data-original-width="1920" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnspHbHC_vEzLLciXGKUe_eWHjsoqjgKMRnOaH9CoWBr0EaV0g-6O6vO-NYrtkeZq994IQmsYKgMGAp3c-44q9xZEbi8ttfy9Lqp9maP_dwNdda8FkeMTmlLjDQiFwi42Yi2Tt2TSfFPT/w496-h328/medications-257336_1920.jpg" width="496" /></a></div><br /><i>TW – Suicidal thoughts. </i><br /><br />For the last month plus my Dr and I have been on a quest together to switch my anti depressants. And today that quest ended. <br /><br />I’ve been on citalopram for 14 years in various dosages but for the last maybe 9/10 years it’s been a steady 40mg. For those of you wondering what that means – 40mg is the highest legal dose that you can be prescribed. At one point I was on 60mg before they changed that rule for whatever reason and 40mg has been my regular dosage. <br /><br />Between lockdown and the chronic pain though its been queried wither or not the citalopram was actually doing its job anymore. So, where many professionals have suggested but been too scared to pull the trigger, my Dr decided we should try if I felt up to it. <br /><br />I agreed and let me tell you SSRI withdrawal is no joke. Holy shit! <div><br /></div><div>I’ve had some bad days before but mixed with the pain in my abdomen, that was fucked up. I became a walking talking vibrator, stuck on a thrill setting. I was jumping between horrible sweats that would soak my top enough I had to change, and cold spells where I was under 9 blankets and was still shivering. The most fun one was the hallucinations though. I created a wee horror movie in my own mind. Every time I walked out my bathroom, I was convinced there was someone/something standing at the corner. That one was particularly useful when I went for a late-night pee, the anxiety would keep me up and I’m sure my quarterly electricity bill will be up too as I just kept the lights on. <br /><br />I’ve never felt the need to try hallucinogenic drugs before, and if the withdrawal from the citalopram was any indicator, I made the right decision. <br /><br />So, did I manage to come off and start something new? Did I fuck! But that’s OK. </div><div><br /></div><div>I’m not mad at my Dr, who was very apologetic on the phone today for suggesting we switch to something different, cause we managed to answer a question I’ve been wondering for a long time. <i>“Do I really need this medication?”</i> Yes. Yes, I really do. And I answered her question too ... <i>“is the citalopram doing its job?”</i> Yes, yes it was. Cause this past couple of weeks I have been holding on by the skin of my teeth and a couple of times I almost gave up. It takes a lot for me to admit to people when I’m not coping but I’ve openly said to 3 people now (Inc Dr) that I AM NOT OK! <br /><br />Thankfully I have a Dr who not only listens but actively tries to help. So, from today I will go back into 20mg, then in a few days 30mg, and if needed a few days after that 40mg and we’ll bring in a psychiatrist to recommend next chemical steps as I’m already speaking to a CPN. <br /><br />So today marks the end of our experiment and thank fuck because I’ve got to the point now that I’ve made notes to family on what I want my funeral to be like and who gets what, which, let’s be honest, is a terrifying thought all on its own. And I don’t think my 2-year-old niece has a need for 4 large bee blankets.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-49589014499327542772021-04-11T19:30:00.003+00:002022-06-12T18:39:22.492+00:00A bit about me<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQQqp9yrUNqHpzU2e29td_MqWUWxa6YIQdTWVHqD50KZZJF82EQzxN9vgSpd8tg0ZeBpULVxlii8S_SfupvyOA14fQfYpYD05twD-L2XUFaOVse_5j0PeSlQIBpHjIQ7jeAHGA1mdd0aFV/s1920/cup-829527_1920.jpg" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1284" data-original-width="1920" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQQqp9yrUNqHpzU2e29td_MqWUWxa6YIQdTWVHqD50KZZJF82EQzxN9vgSpd8tg0ZeBpULVxlii8S_SfupvyOA14fQfYpYD05twD-L2XUFaOVse_5j0PeSlQIBpHjIQ7jeAHGA1mdd0aFV/w501-h335/cup-829527_1920.jpg" width="501" /></a></div><br />Let’s talk a bit about me. <br /><br />I’m a mama who lives in the west coast of Scotland with my teenage son and a growing plant collection. I have a partner who I love to bits and I have a slight caffeine addiction. I love a good cuppa. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>So, what’s the blog about? </i></div><br />Well to be blunt its about my life as a mentally (ch)ill Spoonie. I seem to be collecting chronic illnesses like they are damn Pokémon cards and only in my thirties am I now dealing with them. I have struggled with accepting the terminology for years and only now am I accepting life with a<i> "disability"</i>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>So, what "cards" have I got?</i></div><br />I’ve been dealing with mental illness since my early teens which has been diagnosed as severe depression and anxiety and C-PTSD. I have been under the care of my GP and getting treatment for 15+ years. This is in the form of medication and bouts of therapy through the years. I’m an introverted person with mild agoraphobia and a twisted (often dark) sense of humour. <br /><br />I’m also coming to terms with life in chronic pain. I’m awaiting an official diagnosis for stomach issues as well as chronic pain that has pretty much brought my life to a halt. Hopefully as the world recovers from the pandemic, I'll make my way up the wait lists and can finally get some answers.<div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Fingers and toes crossed</i></div><br />It’s safe to say I’m more surviving than living at the moment. Life is really hard. I’ve always been an open book and this book is turning into a horror, so I thought I would start this blog to help me process it all, let me vent a bit and generally chat about Spoonie life. <br /><br />Welcome down the rabbit hole. There is a tea party at the bottom.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7915916425496297123.post-47604718413029939892021-04-11T12:02:00.002+00:002021-04-15T21:07:42.977+00:00Welcome to the jungle, we have chicken nuggies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopMjIhuZLJo_ziWarYhSmSeiFOKHHdEpjJHxfXecR4SgaB0R_JMj18v-USFp5v2DRc8OFloVS6mkt4_Nuu8qLsiPRJPkc7XtokT73Lm5IZKN5l5xzXFdqgOjdCFoKtnJUcPBENipDCt0n/s2048/20210411_152342.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopMjIhuZLJo_ziWarYhSmSeiFOKHHdEpjJHxfXecR4SgaB0R_JMj18v-USFp5v2DRc8OFloVS6mkt4_Nuu8qLsiPRJPkc7XtokT73Lm5IZKN5l5xzXFdqgOjdCFoKtnJUcPBENipDCt0n/w640-h480/20210411_152342.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />It’s Sunday so I’m all about the self-care. Today that means chicken nuggets, blankets, pain meds and Teen Mom 2 re-runs. <br /><br />This is pretty much my life these days. Binge watching TV wrapped up in my blankets and taking pain killers to help with my chronic pain. And while that might sound awesome, it gets frustrating when you just can’t do anything else. <br /><br />I sometimes feel like a moaning cow when I talk about how much pain I’m in but the reality is I’m really struggling with life just now and I’m so insanely lonely that I figured I would start this blog as my own safe space to vent and process this new chapter of my life. <br /><br />So welcome to my blog, where you will read the <i>“mentally (ch)ill”</i> rantings of a Spoonie. <div><br /></div><div>The kettles on, make yourself comfy.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0