Tag: recovery

Settled In Fluoxetine

Bones

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I’ve been on fluoxetine (prozac) for about 6 weeks now (maybe 7).

The first week was amazing and weird – I felt like I was high all the time, and I fell asleep less than an hour after I took it.  I decided to take the fluoxetine at night so that I could sleep through the worst of the side effects, if there were any, and it seemed to put me to sleep really quick.  It was a good choice for me.  That first week I felt what it was like to have no anxiety or depression, and it was incredible.

The second week was okay.  I had a clear mind, I was more awake and alert, and overall I had more energy.  I just didn’t want to do anything, and that was fine.

The third week was pretty shit.  I had all that clear mind and awake and alert and a shitty brain.  My thoughts were very negative and anxious and I couldn’t shake the mood.  It didn’t impact my body the same way it normally does, though, I didn’t feel completely exhausted and wiped out.  I still wanted to be an amorphous blob, but I at least had the energy to do what I needed to do.

I did discover, part way through the second week, that my sleeping patterns were turning to crap and I wasn’t getting solid sleep (thanks Sleep Cycle), and I was tired.  I wasn’t achingly tired, but I was wired and tired.

Fourth week I realised I was getting back to me, the sassy little sasspot I used to be before I was wrapped up in narcissists.  I was no longer desperate to please people and to be non confrontational.  One of the people at work said something passingly racist about one of the people I work for, and instead of doing my usual pinchy-smile and feel uncomfortable, my first reaction was anger, and I let it show.  I couldn’t vocalise it, but I could at least show it in my face.  This was a huge moment for me, because I hadn’t done this in almost a decade.  I have been conditioned and abused hard to just not.  People please.  Make no waves.  Submit.

It was at the start of week five that I switched my fluoxetine to morning – I did a 6 hour step each day for two days to shift my medication taking the full 12 hours.  My sleeping patterns began to improve, although they are still not quite back to my usual solid sleeping.

Fifth and sixth weeks have been good.  Really good.  I’m much happier, I’m much sassier, I’m much more honest with myself and others about my needs.  I am more able to say ‘I just need to check out a bit’ when I’m in a situation that is overstimulating.  I am more able to say ‘no’ to people and situations that are not good for me.

I still have anxiety.  I still have depression.  I still have PTSD and panic attacks and meltdowns, but they’re more manageable.  I have enough headspace to take action to make my severely anxious days … less shit.  The depression doesn’t suck the life out of me.

And I will say this:  I wish I had been on prozac a decade ago.  

If you are thinking about medication, talk to your physician about it.  Organise your life so you have absolute minimal to-do for the first couple of weeks.  Go to absolute bare minimum, and let people around you know what’s happening so they can check on you.  And then take the plunge.  You may need to try a few different ones – everyone is unique, and every drug affects people in different ways.  Talk to people about your side effects, any quirks you’re having, and take their input on board, and give your physician honest feedback.  Don’t be afraid to say, after 3 weeks, ‘this isn’t quite working for me, can we please try something else’.

You are worth enjoying your life.

Social Anxiety

Bones

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Today my mind is racing.  Yesterday I was invited out to a social gathering by a neighbour.  They have dogs.  I have dog.  There was going to be a big dog meet up nearby with a walk and a trip to the cafe.  At the time I thought it was a great idea!  So I said I’d probably see them there.

I got home and panicked.  I slept badly.  Now I’m sitting in my house, hours past the meet up, wired up and anxious and trying to figure out where it all went wrong.  My mind is pulling up all sorts of excuses – my dog wasn’t too bright this morning, I slept badly, I couldn’t afford the coffee (I’ve just over-extended myself sorting out two very very large bills), I’m not feeling well …  at the end of the day, I suspect it’s a mixture of social anxiety and an element of too much sensory input.

It’s even harder when you don’t have their number to say ‘hey sorry, anxiety is really bad today, I’m going to camp it out inside’ and you actually have to go over there and say so.  Which I will do this afternoon.  I have found people are a lot more understanding when you say ‘I have anxiety and today is a bad day’ or ‘I have autism and need a quiet day’.

But as a result of all of this anxiety, I’m shut down today, down to emergency services only.  I don’t feel up to cleaning, I don’t feel up to doing anything except wrapping myself up on the couch and watching TV.  Which is compounding my stress a bit because I have things to do and I just don’t have the energy.

So I’m going to tell myself it’s okay, wrap up warm, put on something nice, have a cuppa tea, and we’ll try again later this afternoon.  The world is not going to end because I didn’t vacuum this week.

(In writing this I’ve calmed down considerably, and now feel like I can relax.)

Conflict Avoidance

Bones

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I have been conditioned to avoid conflict.  I have been punished, ignored, cold shouldered, berated, insulted and put down whenever I rose to a conflict instead of rolled over, whenever I voiced an opinion that was contrary to what was being said.  I didn’t realise it was happening – it started off small, and phrased like a concern for me “you shouldn’t argue with people on the internet”.  By the time it was blatantly “don’t do that, that’s rude” it was too late, I was hooked into the narcissist and I wasn’t getting out.

Despite the many years I’ve been away from Him, I am still not free.  I have identified an immediate aversion to conflict, to the point where I will go along with things that I do not like, things that I feel are unkind, because I cannot deal with the conflict.  If someone says something unkind about someone else towards me I’ll smile and play along – doesn’t matter who it is, I just shut down, go into conflict avoidance and people please mode, and my brain disconnects.

I never used to be like this.  Back in high school (a friend of mine reminded me of this) I was sitting at a group of desks and another girl came over and said she wanted it.  I politely said no, and when she persevered, I told her to fuck off.  In exactly those words.  I had no issues telling two girls who were harassing me at home to fuck off and never come back again.  I had no problems standing up to bullies.

I am now into my fourth week of fluoxetine, and I have discovered an amazing effect.  I’m getting my backbone back.

Today a colleague was rude about one of the people I provide support for.  This particular individual is Chinese.  The rest of the office is not.  This particular colleague asked me to tell the Chinese woman to see her “once she’s done with her jabbering”.  Instead of my usual response – a polite, mincing smile and a churning of discomfort in my gut – I felt immediately angry.  While I couldn’t vocalise it properly, I certainly let it be shown in my face and posture.  This colleague was being very rude and racist about another colleague, one who she works with, and one who works harder than damn near everyone else in the office.

And for once, my first response wasn’t conflict avoidance.  I was, and still am, intensely proud of myself for that.  I feel more like me than I have in a decade.

A Not-Really Inspirational Depression Blog

Bones

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I have a fairly simple policy with my writing in all forms.  I will write for myself, and just hope that there will be other people in similar situations or of similar mindsets who may enjoy and/or benefit from what I have written.

I have depression and anxiety (amongst other things).  While I’m being medicated for it, the medication doesn’t stop me from being anxious or depressed.  It just makes it … less severe.  I still have negative thoughts, I still have panic attacks, I still have episodes of acute anxiety to stimulus, but I have a bit more mental clarity.  I have that tiny bit more headspace, alertness, ability to cope with it.  I think.

But I still don’t really have that much motivation, and I’m very deliberately not launching into ‘I’m totally going to do this, this and this all the time because it’s good for me’.  I have very limited energy right now, so I’m carefully selecting and doing really small things that help build me (from the ground up) into a healthier, more positive space.  If I can’t do that thing one day / week, that’s fine, I cut back to basics and wait until I have energy again.  I’m not going to suggest going out for a hike, or taking up yoga, or drinking kale smoothies because I don’t have the energy for that, and I know most other people with depression don’t either.  I’m not going to suggest taking a long bath, or cleaning your room, because when just having a shower is exhausting, cleaning your room is going to be too much as well.  Eating well is all well and good, but that also requires effort, energy, and thought.

It’s important for people with depression to realise that it’s okay.  It’s okay to not be okay.  It’s okay to not get out of bed for days.  It’s okay to not go outside.  It’s okay to not do dishes.  It’s okay to not do washing.  It.  Is.  Okay.

Take it right back to basics.  You can get up to pee?  Take a glass of water back to bed with you.  Can’t make a meal to eat?  Cereal and milk (if you can, chop a banana or another easy fruit that you like on top) is a perfectly acceptable meal (I’ll often do oats, flax seed, a sprinkle of LSA and a chopped banana).  Can’t do the dishes?  Buy plastic plates.  You are allowed to do things to make your life easier!  You are not required to do all these things you are “supposed to do”!

Be kind to yourself.  I don’t just mean pamper yourself, or love yourself, because if you’re ambivalent about yourself while you’re depressed you’re doing well.  I mean give yourself permission to not do things.  Spend a few minutes every few hours assessing your energy levels and how much you feel you can expend.

No energy?  That’s okay, cuddle back into bed or back onto the couch and nap.  If you can, a cuppa tea is often warming and comforting.  I personally love Earl Grey if I want caffeinated, or rooibos tea (with milk and honey) if it’s later in the day.

Little bit of energy?  Cool!  Next time you get up to pee, do a little thing.  I’ll often take a couple of mugs that I have inevitably forgotten on the arm of the couch into the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher when I get up for any reason.

Got a bit more energy?  Neat!  Is there one thing you would really like to start on today?  Wiping down one bench top is enough!  Picking up tissues and putting them in the bin is enough!  If you feel you are able to do more, that’s awesome!  Be sure to not just use that energy on cleaning or cooking, but also on yourself.  Having a shower and putting on fresh undies makes a world of difference.  Clean sheets are luxurious.

It has taken me a very long time to realise and even longer to accept that I can’t do everything, and that’s okay.  It took reading it, over and over again, for me to get the picture.  It’s hard, I’ve actually got a lot to do and a lot to organise and a lot of associated anxiety with it.  But I’m making decisions to make my life easier – like paying someone to clean the crate I haven’t cleaned in over a year that’s been living in my garage and I really need to return to the person I borrowed it from.  And asking friends to help me do tasks I just can’t bring myself to face, like sort out my wardrobe and get rid of all the shit I don’t wear (which is about 90% of my clothes).  It turns an insurmountable task into a fun, manageable one with two pairs of hands, some chocolate, and some good music.  And most of the time, we say ‘yeah we’ll totally do that’ and then end up vegging out on the couch, and that’s also totally okay.

So please, if you’re reading this and you’re depressed, just remember, it’s okay.  

The Difference Of Intent

Bones

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Intent.  It’s something you can never directly see, and yet it impacts all actions.  It’s something I’ve been thinking on a lot these past few months.

Because the amazing human being in my life does some of the same things that He did – not many, but enough for me to have occasional flashbacks.  The difference between the two is as clear as night and day, but certainly not something I would ever have seen at the time.  It is a difference in intent.

Where He supported my interests because they reflected well on Him, this amazing human supports my interests because I’m interested in them.  Where He looked after my animals because it made Him look good, this amazing human looks after my animals because he loves them.  Where He would spend a lot of money on takeaway food because it was Living The Life, this amazing human spends money on takeaway food because it’s easy and tasty and it’s a nice treat (for both of us) after a hard day of work.

Where He would interact with my friends and, when they (very rarely) visited, suggest some things He thought they might like, it was all to reflect well on Him in some way, to make them like Him more.  This amazing human suggests things they might like because they might like it and because he cares.

And now, looking back, the difference of intent is so clear.  It has just taken seeing the behaviours expressed from a selfless intent to see the difference in the resulting behaviour expressed from a selfish intent.

And you can tell, you can really tell.  The words they use, the way they put them together, their tone of voice, and their body language.  The feeling left in your gut afterwards (never ignore your gut, it knows a lot more than your brain does).

I am intensely grateful to the amazing human being I now share my life with.  He is helping to heal a lifetime of trauma by simply being his incredible self.