This week started not so well. To be honest I haven't been feeling right for almost 2 weeks. But I think I've just been going through the motions, pretending I was okay. Distracting myself and trying to ignore my increasing anxiety. The feeling like I'm being split into two different dimensions. It's hard to explain. By Monday this week I crashed into an emotional, anxiety heap. Impending panic and doom, and feeling like my internal motor was idling too high and I couldn't calm down. Some of it I have put down to the weird inbetween time from Christmas to New Year and then to when school continues back. Also, my eating habits have been complete and utter rubbish, which is something I know I need to be mindful of. So crash, bang, boom. My partner wrapped me in a bed burrito and fed me valium. I felt a little okay Monday night, but still not like myself. Thankfully I had an appointment with my psychiatrist on Tuesday. I pushed myself to get in the car and drive to the appointment. Waited anxiously until she came and got me. It didn't take long for my fragile facade to fall away. It was clear I wasn't doing so well. She upped my meds again. Spoke to me about taking valium, which I had taken on Monday. She was flabbergasted that the bottle of valium I had was almost two years old. And she also explained to me that I wasn't taking it correctly. I would only take valium in an emergency, when I was already well into an episode of panic or not feeling right. I need to be taking it at the first sign of trouble. So if I had taken it 10 days ago, perhaps shit wouldn't have hit the fan. Who knows? I guess I am resistant to taking it as I know benzos get a bad rap and people can easily become addicted. Despite both my family doctor and my psychiatrist saying it would be highly unlikely I would have issues. Apparently I don't present as high risk, due to the history of my medication use, and I "don't have the personality for such issues". I know they're probably right, but I'm always cautious. I have family members with history of alcohol and drug addiction. I don't want to end up wandering down that road. But considering my psychiatrists recommendations and that she couldn't believe I have been sitting on a bottle of valium for almost two years. I'll stop beating myself up and just take the valium when I know I need it. I wish I didn't need it, but sometimes I do. It has probably been a good year since I last felt the need to take some. Sometimes I feel like a failure when I need to take medication to rescue me, yet I know I need to function, I have a lot of people relying one me. I need to be well. For myself too. I will have setbacks, I do struggle to accept that. When I'm well, it's great. I get on and do most of the things I have to do relatively symptom free. I get sad and stuck about life, about my partner, my kids, family and friends. But I take it as it comes. When I have episodes like this week, it's like something extracts my mind from my brain and throws it at a brick until it's mush. And every moment becomes about staying safe, staying sane and not jumping off the cliff. Over the last couple of weeks I have very much just been taking it easy, trying to distract myself. I have been watching The Walking Dead. I love it. Which is probably a bit weird from someone who suffers anxiety, depression and intermittent panic attacks. I suppose in a way it shows me that things could be worse, my situation isn't as bad as the end of the world as we know it happening and fighting zombies. There's a character in the show called Morgan. If you don't know much about the show I won't give explicit spoilers, but Morgan over the course of time suffers a mental breakdown and is pretty much at the brink of going insane, if not already. He makes a recovery of sorts and becomes an important character in the show, but the mental health struggle is always just under the surface. During a time of mental struggle and clear signs that he was starting to descend into the darkness, he says the line, "I'm not right". I'm not right. Not, I'm depressed or I'm sad or I'm anxious. I'm. Not. Right. I felt that in my bones. It was my mantra in the bad times. I would often tell my partner "I'm not right" while sobbing and pacing and shaking, feeling like I could scream myself into a frenzy of insanity. It is the hardest part of my breakdown to articulate. The feeling of falling out of yourself and into a place where your body and mind don't recognise each other. It was a mind hell. It's interesting now how I can see mental illness with new eyes, the way it is portrayed in television and movies. Just hearing other people's stories is met with a very real element of relatibility. I've always been prone to being sad and depressed and anxious. But feeling like you're losing your mind, going insane. That's a whole other ball game. Every time I have a relapse like Mondays episode, it reminds me how far I had to dig myself out of hell. Monday wasn't the worst of my worse days. On my worse days I had to be on antipsychotics. Which worked well, but that shit obliterates you. The hangover the next day was not fun, but it dulled the senses enough to bring me back down to earth. I was panicky and delusional when things got very bad. So times like this week make me thankful for my mental wellness, like now when I'm feeling like myself again. I am grateful for my doctors who are caring for me very well. I am grateful for my partner, who always catches me and wraps me in a bed burrito and lets me forget about the world for awhile. I am grateful for my children, who for the most part know when I'm not doing so good and go gently on Mum, and my older kids pick up their game and help out. I'm thankful that I can still write my blog and send it into the wind of the internet. It makes me feel better. I am finding myself coming to this place of acceptance that this is life now. Every now and then I'll fall into the pothole and have to get myself up. But I have help. I shouldn't forget that. And I have valium. Break glass in case of emergency medication. Well slightly before the emergency anyway. I know some may not agree with the array of medications I'm on, but meds saved my life. Despite me feeling the intense compulsion to snuff it out. I'm still here.
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