Me and My Mental Health
Ever since my Dad passed away in 1997 I’ve had depression. They didn’t give me any counselling even though I asked for help and just threw antidepressants, namely Prozac at me to cope. I couldn’t cope. Prozac made me feel like a zombie so I just stumbled day after day feeling helpless. Even dating Andy in the early stages I was wracked with feelings of guilt for not being there for my Dad, I didn’t visit him, I couldn’t, I hated hospitals and that was because of two things. When I was 5 I slipped on sand in my nursery and cracked my head wide open as I fell as I hit a bench on the way down. I can remember being in a very dark room with a light overhead and my Mum standing at the door telling me to stay still as they (I assume) xrayed me. Then my Mum went into have a hysterectomy when I was 7 and back in the 70s you were in hospital for about a week. I missed her terribly and every time we left her there I cried. I felt so empty and my hate of hospitals came from there. All through my younger years I was in and out of doctors for one reason and another, mainly bronchitis which I seemed to have constantly, and that meant lots of time off school. This lead to be being bullied at school. Kids always seem to pick on the ones that are a little weaker (rules of the jungle I guess as all bullies are animals). I seem to remember a few times when I was a kid just losing the plot (perhaps the fall caused damage). One sports day I ran out of the playing field and across a busy main road, I’m lucky I wasn’t hit and I remember the helper screaming at me but it was an impulse thing, I have no recollection of thinking about doing it, my body just did it. It was like a head rush thing.
Not much else happened then until I was 14 years old (although thinking about it I do remember now and then running up to my bedroom, throwing myself on my bed and crying, saying that I was too young to die). I have a recollection of it being about the time of the Corona Bubble Advert as I had lots of stickers of the Corona Bubbles on my bed head or wardrobe at the time, so I was probably about 9 at the time. I just remember having this overwhelming emptiness in my heart and feelings of despair overwhelming me. Although I think it was probably caused through losing my budgie (I don’t cope with death of pets very well at all). This coincided with my Dad falling over and breaking his ankle, or there about. It may even have been over a 2 year period but seems to all have got bunched into one.
My depression when I was 14 lasted 3 months. From then on I was proud to have beaten it and would often talk about it with others knowing that I’d come out of it and felt stronger.
Then nothing at all much happened until 1997 when Dad died. I was my Dad’s carer from the age of 14 and again, back in the 80s there wasn’t any help for young carers. You were just left to get on with it. Mum would be out working, I would come home from school and look after him. Then my granddad died and ended up living with us, so Mum cared for him and I cared for Dad. I didn’t have much of a youth if I’m honest.
Fast forward to my miscarriage in 1997. That was one hell of a time too. Both me and Andy broke under the strain with that. Depression I had was horrendous, then losing a baby (long story but was caused through a smear with a nurse who at the time was having a nervous breakdown herself, and even though I pointed out the pregnancy test she gave me said positive, she drew across the lines and threw it in the bin telling me I was wrong). I regret to this day not fighting back but I was just too mentally weak from the depression. I then had a whole 3 years where I bled constantly. Since they took the nurses word that I wasn’t pregnant they left me to suffer for 3 years losing blood. Eventually my doctor listened and sent me to hospital to get sorted. Pills, pills and more pills later, it was sorted. I haven’t however been able to get pregnant since and now at 43 my chance has gone. I’m never going to be anyone’s Mum so I have to resign myself to that. It’s devastating. Makes you feel less of a woman. And right now I think I’m pre-menopausal too so that certainly doesn’t help my case.
Anyway, let’s get back on track. Year before last I decided to lose my weight. i did ok, I lost 8 stone and felt amazing. But my SAD started up again in the September and my body craved sugar. Long story short, I put it back on again. So I’m back to square one. The guilt of doing that is constant.
We then get to January last year. We lost my fur boy Biscuit. He was one of the reasons I lived. He was my world. I had never loved a dog as much as I adored him. I used to say to Andy that I felt like I’d given birth to him my feelings were that strong and the vets killed him with a pathetic diagnosis, and the fact that they left him to suffer for 48 hours doing nothing. Bastards. I’m in tears writing that bit. I will never forgive them for taking away my baby boy. I grieved, I’m still grieving for him now but the first few weeks were horrendous. I felt so numb. But one early morning I was having a dream about him. I called out to him and at that same time I woke up. He was standing there looking over me. The feelings of despair disappeared right then and there. He came to me in my hour of need like he had done 12 years previously.
So I’ve kind of struggled this last 8 months. My eating has been out of control. Latte’s and sweets every single day. It’s like I’m on a mission to destroy myself. Burying my head in the sand. But this is no good. It’s thrown my diabetes completely out of control again and when I get like that I get sloppy. I forget to take my medication (anti depressants and vitamins) and forgetting a few days worth of those throws me out. Being pre menopausal at the moment too, the hot sweats have been driving me nuts. Waking up drenched 2 weeks before every period, an aching knee, stiff neck, bad shoulder and worst of all, lumpy, sore boobs. Like all women should I regularly check my boobs for lumps but for some reason when I get this SAD depression I get paranoid and feeling my boobs last week I found lumps (although they are just the milk ducts which always swell with hormonal changes) but my head won’t listen. I also have a clear liquid coming out of my nipples when I squeeze them – again another sign of being premenopausal so I’m not worried. I only get it 2 weeks before my period and then during my period but nothing after until the 2 weeks thing starts all over again, so I’m not concerned, it’s natural. I even think my Mum went through the same. But it all disappears when my period is finished.
So I have all that going on in my head which I say nothing about. I don’t tell Andy any of it because I’m sick of thinking about it myself, so certainly don’t want to talk about it and bore myself even more.
Then last week I hear that a guy I went to school with had died. I found out a few years back that he fancied me back then. I was known as “the one that didn’t know” because I hadn’t got a clue but when I found out I was chuffed. I never thought anyone would have fancied me back then and it made me happy that even though I was like I was, someone still saw something in me. Back when he told me, he also told me he’d love us to get together but as I was with Andy, as much as I was flattered I declined. Still felt good though that he still had a thing for me. Boosted my confidence. However we stopped speaking and had just started speaking again a few weeks back. He then broke his hip and was in hospital. Last time I spoke to him he said he was miserable, bored and tired, I then replied but although he saw it he didn’t reply. But he always took ages so didn’t give it a second thought. Friday last week he was out of hospital but got a blood clot and died. I didn’t find out till Sunday. Now I didn’t speak much to him the thought that part of my youth had died shocked me to the core. He was 6 months younger than me too and had diabetes. I’ve had to unfriend his profiles now on social media, and not because I wanted to but because the outpouring of grief for him from all his friends makes me feel worse. He was loved by so many people, just reading their tributes was enough to make me feel numb. I just couldn’t do it any more. I have enough of my own worries to read how distressed others are.
Anyhow. It’s taken it’s toll on me this last week. I couldn’t stop thinking about him for a few days, I also haven’t been sleeping well due to the night sweats, shoulder pain has been at an all time high too, and I’ve had a bloody stye on my eye (so I know I’m run down). Oh what a palaver.
I’m sitting here with my Lightbox which after a cup of matcha green tea does make me feel a bit better. I usually sit in front of it for a few hours to feel the benefit, and have to remember to double my vitamin B6/B12 too just to kick it in the arse and leave me alone.
But that’s me at the moment. For the next week I’ll neck lots of green tea, eat lots of salmon and green leafy veg. I also have to remember not to grind my teeth (it’s a great tip that, if you find yourself doing it, relax your jaw as you can’t be stressed if your teeth are parted and jaw relaxed). With that and doing what the Linden Method promotes (keep your mind busy) I’m sure I’ll be ok. It might take a little while but I’ll be back to 100% soon. That’s life I guess.
Me and My Mental Health
