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Anxiety Depression Mental Illness My Life

Med Chat

Hi there. Hope your Sunday is going well wherever you are. Today Drew and I are having our own little Christmas, complete with Christmas sweaters , ginger bread houses, crackers and all the trimmings. You’ll just have to wait for all the details I’m afraid, but I have high hopes!

If you’ve been reading you might be aware that I’ve been using medication to keep the symptoms of my depression/anxiety under control. I started on fluoxetine which worked well to suppress symptoms, but unfortunately I had disturbing intrusive thoughts so my doctor and I decided to try something different called Sertraline. I’ve been taking it for about eight days now, and so far I feel okay; still having wobbles, but able to do the things I need to without panicking/crying all the time.

Medication for mental illness can be a controversial issue.

There are people who don’t believe in using medication, people who think of it as the ‘easy option’, people who couldn’t praise it highly enough, and there are people who don’t even think mental illness is necessarily a valid illness that CAN be treated with medication.

Like most young people, I’ve always been wary of medication.

From a young age I’ve been prescribed various medications to control pain in my spine, and some of these meds are strong and come with warnings and side effects. It has taken me a long time to accept having to use them. They are not the easy option: they aren’t necessarily good for you, they carry warnings of addiction, sleepiness, euphoria…the list goes on.

I didn’t want to ever become dependent on painkillers – and I still do my best to cope without them – but I don’t want to be made to feel bad for choosing to use them on bad days.

Pain, depression and anxiety can have a seriously negative impact on quality of life. Each of them usually accompany the other; the parts of the brain that deal with each are similar if not the same.

When I’m in pain, I’m depressed. When I’m depressed, I’m in pain.

Pain makes me sluggish, tired and lethargic. Pain makes me feel guilty because I can’t do ‘normal’ things. Pain makes me feel bad because I can’t pluck up the physical strength to tidy the house or cook or wash my clothes on bad days.

Depression, anxiety and chronic pain are a toxic mix.

Before I started medication for my mental illness I was an absolute mess. I could barely leave my room; the thought of having to see my housemates filled me with horror. It was nothing they had done; it’s just the anxiety/depression would convince me they hated me and that they didn’t want to see me, or hear me, or generally be around me.

You see, depression and anxiety can whisper nasty little lies in your ear. They make you feel worthless. Empty. Alone.

I’d do anything to avoid bumping into my housemates. I’d listen carefully to make sure I didn’t bump into them in the corridor. I showered when everyone had gone to bed. I couldn’t go shopping without Drew. I couldn’t cook, and didn’t always eat. When I made it into uni (with Drew walking me in) I panicked and wound up hysterically crying and having to leave, because the thought of being surrounded by people filled me with terror.

I was not the person I am now.

I didn’t want to stop to talk to people. I wanted to hide away from everything: so I did. The majority of my days were spent in floods of tears under the duvet.

It was a terrible time.

These episodes very rarely happen since I’ve been on medication. I have off days – of course – but I can definitely function. I CAN do the majority of things I need to do.

Shaming people who take medication to control their mental illnesses is not helping anyone.

I don’t believe any one has the authority to tell me when/why I shouldn’t take my medication. You might not agree with it, but it’s not your choice. It’s mine.

Medication has allowed me to feel (at the very least) a little bit like myself again.
I’m happy most days. I laugh. I smile. I tell rubbish jokes and I love doing my makeup and cooking and eating. I love watching documentaries and playing on my ds and reading books and discovering new things. 

Depression made me forget my love for these things.

I am no longer empty. I feel like a person; I have emotions – positive, happy ones – and at the height of my depression/anxiety I was a horrible mixture of sadness, emptiness, guilt and panic. Happiness was a distant memory, and I was unable to feel it.

You might not understand why I take medication to control my illnesses. You might not agree with it. You might even claim they’re just a placebo.

But if they help me, why question them?

You don’t necessarily know what goes on in my head, or what has happened in my life. It can be a dark, miserable place. And as long as medication keeps me feeling okay and allows me to live life, I’m going to take it.

All I’m asking is that people be a little bit more considerate. Don’t judge what you don’t understand.

I know this has been a little heavy, but it’s been weighing on my mind.

Have a great day wherever you are; chirpier posts will be up soon, I’m sure!
Heather x

Categories
Anxiety Depression Mental Illness

Meds and TW: Intrusive thoughts

It is my aim to be as frank as possible on here. I think being honest is incredibly important; not only for me, but for anyone who reads this.

When I talk about dealing with mental illness and disability I do it for two main reasons: firstly, this is a place for me to express my feelings. It is almost cathartic being completely honest, because it helps me to deal with things. I used to be someone who bottled things up for days at a time, only ever expressing emotion when things got to much and I broke down in tears/lashed out in fits of anger. This wasn’t healthy and I’m trying to change that. It just so happens that this is a great way to be upfront and honest. Secondly, being honest is the right thing to do. I don’t want to lie about my experiences. On the whole, things are good right now, but when things aren’t I don’t want to sit here and pretend they are. it’s doing myself a disservice.

This post might be a little surprising/ridiculous and you don’t have to read it if it isn’t your cup of tea. You can hang on and wait until I post something else; that’s the beauty of blogging. But today I am going to be totally upfront because it is important for me.

If you have been reading you’ll know I’m currently on medication to control the symptoms of my anxiety and depression. Without this medication, I cannot function. At my worst, I couldn’t leave my room without panicking, nevermind leave the house. So yes, they have been fantastic at minimising these panics. I also cry far less than I used to: if I remember rightly it was at the end of my second year when all my assignments were due in that things got Bad. I remember having to write an essay on Chaucer’s Wife of Bath Prologue whilst taking breaks out to cry.

Seriously. It got that bad.

Fluoxetine has been one of the wisest choices I’ve ever made; I can go out, I can go shopping, I don’t always feel terrified; although of course I have bad days. But fluoxetine has been brewing some nasty little intrusive thoughts. And – annoyingly- this is the only problem I have with it.

It doesn’t seem like much, but these thoughts have been disturbing to say the least. I’ve never acted on them (if i did it’d be an absolute disaster) but it doesn’t make them any less terrifying. They’re usually triggered by seeing sharp objects; knives in particular. And i get this little thought in my head that goes ‘hey, I wonder what would happen if you just stabbed yourself with that? you know. just a little bit. You should, you really should. Just try it!’  

wow. okay.

So of course these had to stop. At first I was worried about mentioning the thoughts in case they became so concerned they decided to do something drastic (I know, I don’t know, don’t ask) but I did, and turns out they’re just changing my medication, so that’s easy enough. So long fluoxetine, you’ve served me well (sort of).

Sertraline; I hope you’ll be good to me.

I hope you’re having a good Thursday.

Heather x