My Personal Challenges for 2022

 2022. It's crazy. 2021 felt like it went incredibly fast and yet felt like it took 5 years. The weirdness that comes from socially isolating and being forced to spending most of your time at home. This isn't something I am new to, thanks to all my illnesses, but I was starting to emerge from the last depressive episode. Plus usually my partner isn't home.

I've been working on learning what I actually enjoy doing since I began therapy and stopped repressing so much. I've gotten better at grounding which means I dissociate less. I still struggle with emotions, both understanding what I am feeling and being overwhelmed. I feel like I've made progress with slowly sifting through my hobbies and joys from before trauma therapy and learning what I truly enjoy.

Painting

I  know I definitely love being creative and painting is part of this. I want to try some mixed media painting, drawing and sketching before painting, and painting on different surfaces. I've decided I am going to attempt to do one painting project a month, but I don't want to be too ambitious in case my mental health interferes so I am aiming between 8 and 12 pieces for 2022

Winston Needs Medicine and It's Triggering

 I have two rabbits. Winston and Hazel. Hazel is the youngest at around 4 years old. Winston is my oldest, at roughly 9 years, and MY BOI. Back in 2012 I was socially isolated and not coping. Instead of adopting a dog, as I was going to do with my ex, I went with a rabbit.

I didn't realise back then I had CPTSD and my hypervigilance was off the charts. I love dogs. I love all animals. I just couldn't be around dogs because they would trigger my startle response with their barking. I thought it was the ME/CFS sensitivities at the time, but now I know better. I was intensely startled every time a dog barked.

Long story short, yes there is more story, I went and adopted a rabbit. It wasn't Winston. It was my beloved Fiver whom I named after Fiver in Watership Down by Richard Adams. Fiver saved my sanity at the time and unfortunately he passed away after six months of me adopting him. That's a trauma story I am saving for Mrs Yellow.

I was still socially isolated, suffering from depression, and quite unwell after Fiver passed. I lasted two weeks before the lack of sound little padded feet made started to drive me madder and I adopted Winston in 2013. That's a long time to have a bunny companion. He has been there for my depression, kept me going when I was suicidal, gave me a reason to get up in the morning. We bonded hard when I adopted him. I have been dreading him getting older...

Crochet: Ribbed Twist Cowl

 I've been really restless and bored. I've had lockdown fever. I'm not bothered by it. If anything I find it interesting and I would rather be restless than have covid. A year ago, during lockdown, I wasn't bothered about being in lockdown. Staying at home wasn't a big deal for me. I was used to it. However, after extensive therapy, including exposure therapy, and working on challenging myself to be more social (within pandemic reason of course), I am restless AF.

I keep walking around the house stating I am bored out loud lol and my crochet projects... Urgh, so annoying. I can't seem to stick to any. A couple I have gotten half way done and then unravelled the whole thing. Then the amount I have begun only to unravel after a few rows..... LOCKDOWN FEVER.

Before it was all anxiety, OCD, and avoidance keeping me busy. That shit can burn through a lot of time. So I started playing with my projects, not following a pattern, and doing really quick projects instead. It seems to satisfy my crochet itch.

In other news, Nephew C asked me to teach him how to crochet. I'm so proud.

Emotional Dysregulation? Maybe

 It's common for someone with (C)PTSD to have emotional dysregulation and issues with expressing their emotions. I know I do. I've always struggled with expressing my emotions. When you're a child and you're told your emotions are bad, or are punished for expressing them, doesn't it make sense to have an issue with expressing yourself?

When I was a child I was told my emotions were bad, I was punished for expressing them, I mostly received negative reactions to them whether I was sad, angry, frustrated, or happy. This continued for many years, after childhood, but by my adolescence I had learned to suppress them. I had learnt suppression is a good thing, it keeps you safe. Unfortunately, when you bottle them up, the emotions would be let out in extremes. To the point where I would make others uncomfortable or scare them. I myself would be frightened of their intensity and my inability to get a grip on myself again. 

I questioned, during my late adolescence and times of drawn-out emotional suppression, if I was a sociopath. I didn't understand then what was going on. Why didn't I have emotional responses like other people? Why wasn't I feeling anything at times? Emotions, to me, can be incredibly confusing. Most of the time I am questioning what I am feeling and the reaction I am having. I've become detached as a way to cope.

Unhealthy Emotions and Flatness

 Late last year Dr Green switched my medication from Zoloft (sertraline) to Aropax (paroxetine). Zoloft was working great in the beginning, but after some time it became apparent it wasn't working well enough. The doses were either too intense or too low and there wouldn't necessarily be large changes. I'd dissociate more often, have jittery highs, get mired overlong in the lows.

After switching between the two and having the Aropax settle down I became confused about my emotions. I felt flat. I've been dissociating on and off since I remember so I wasn't surprised to be feeling like a robot sometimes. It wasn't that. It's not the emotions are missing, but I feel as though I can't truly feel them.

I've mentioned this flatness to Dr Green during our last two sessions. I've been so perplexed by it. What is this? I wondered if this was the Aropax. Was it the zombie feeling people sometimes described when they went on anti-depressants? 

No.

Finding the Right Help for Mental Illness

I just came from my psychiatrist appointment with Dr Green and every time I see him, and Mrs Yellow, I really appreciate how important it is to have the right kind of help. My mental health care team is the fucking best. FARK. SO. GOOD.

If you need help, get it. Don't just settle for what's there or someone who is good enough either. There is someone out there who is right for you. Someone great at their job, almost seeming like they were born to it, who will actually take the time to listen and prescribe treatment catered to you. Find that person. It is possible. 

Dr Green is my third psychiatrist. The first one didn't work out, but neither of us were prepared for my complicated mental health. The second one was a jerk. I can't... talk about traumatising! Fuckwit 😑 I'm still pissed off. I went to him because I was desperate, but hadn't come to terms with everything yet. I'd not been diagnosed appropriately either. He was bulk-billed and I was in financial hardship. I've learnt since that certain bulk-billed specialists are to be questioned.

From Therapy to The Future

 I just had a full day of therapy and I feel like my brain is about to explode. I need to stare into space for an hour to process. A full day is appointments with my psychologist and psychiatrist, 2 hours tops, but holy shit it's enough to melt my brain. 

They were really good sessions, but I think the reason my brain is melting is because of the topics we discussed. It's really hitting home for me how disruptive and erratic my life has been. I've been living day-to-day, taking everything as it comes. I've needed to in the past and it's what I am accustomed to. Now I've been presented with the idea I can create goals for my life and strive for something in the future. It's just.... WTF dude?

This is where I am in my life. I've been working so hard on reaching the goal of normalcy, stability, well-rounded health for so long I haven't truly believed I could get there. Now I'm almost at a precipice where these possibilities are somewhere on the horizon and every time it comes up my mind is blown. I'm starting to think my head actually hurts after these moments because my brain is being forced to change. It needs to change for me to actually accept all these ideas can be a part of my life. It's flooring. I don't know what I want to do with myself. Part of me wants to cry.

I'm sure this sounds dramatic to someone out there, especially when their life has been full of stability and consistency. That doesn't throw me at all. I'm actually happy for those people, but to me they are also unicorns. We're talking about a unicorn life here. Unicorns all over the place. Unicorn city

My Fitbit Broke

 My Fitbit broke the other day and I think it might be a great thing.

I've been using a fitness tracker, off and on, since 2012. First Fitbit, then Garmin, and back to Fitbit. In 2012 I was suffering from muscle weakness after years of being unwell with ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome) and FM (fibromyalgia) to the point of being bed-bound for quite some time. I was fortunate to move out west and receive wonderful health care by people in the profession who gave a shit and didn't ascribe my condition to depression or being lazy 😒 

Yeah, the whole ME/CFS and FMS experience I had with health professionals back then is definitely a sore point for me. Anyway, back to what I was saying before I go off on a tangent. 

I was diagnosed with pulmonary embolus (three blood clots in the lungs) in late 2012. By this point I wasn't eating, existing on sustagen instead, and just a mess. Mentally and physically. The benefits of using a fitness tracker, at the time, was the motivation it gave me to reach my goals of slowly, oh so slowly, building up my muscle mass again. It was hard work, but I had to introduce movement back into my life no matter how much pain I was in. Not only had I been diagnosed with a PE, but it turns out I have a gene mutation which causes excess clotting. 

I didn't process the trauma of having PE very well. The benefits of using a fitness tracker were still there, but I also have anxiety and OCD so... eventually the fitness tracker became a problem as well. 

Painting and Relaxing Hobbies

 I decided the other day I am going to attempt to paint. Yep. I love art. I've never studied it, I've only ever appreciated it. I am a creative person, but I'm not sure about artistic. I've always wanted to paint. I say always wanted to, but I have attempted it several times before. Usually I get frustrated with it because I can't replicate the detail in my head. I have very high standards which I've been working on loosening, but that's another post for another day.

I love colour and each time I have painted in the past it's always with blocks of colour. The last time I attempted to paint though, it became a mess of browns and blacks. I was very angry and depressed at the time so that may be why.... 

There's a couple of reasons for why I want to attempt painting. Firstly I have a huge issue with relaxing. It's so difficult. After my bout of physio for my lower back and bunched nerve, I realised the CPTSD, OCD, and anxiety are keeping my muscles clenched all the bloody time. The hypervigilance doesn't help, but if I zone out enough to not notice my surroundings then I go and dissociate. I'm trying to relax and be mindful. I struggle to meditate these days too, or sit long enough to do yoga. 

Grounding Techniques for Dissociation

Dissociation, derealisation, depersonalisation, are all funny things. The 3D's are a coping mechanism which can be great and horrible. When our bodies and minds are going through crises our brain sends us off into lala land to cope. Unfortunately, later on, it can become chronic. Your brain and body still think you're in danger and once again will send you off to lala land. Sometimes daily, sometimes weekly, sometimes completely out of the blue.

When I say lala land I don't mean being out of touch with reality due to ignorance or a blissful state. If only. No, I mean you struggle to connect with physical reality. There's different degrees of dissociation. In my experience I've had where I don't feel real, I don't feel like a real person, I can't feel my emotions, and I've felt like I am having an out-of-body experience where I am watching myself function. It's pretty horrible and scary if you don't know what's going on. 

Here's more info for dissociative disorders.

So how do you overcome it? I think a big part of it is to recognise it is actually happening and what is triggering your episodes. For this I recommend therapy. Get the help to learn how to identify what's going on.

Other than that, grounding techniques. Grounding techniques are great. You can use them for more than dissociating. I use them for depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and PTSD rage.

How I Understand Mental Illness

 What is mental illness? As I understand it. I can only ever explain something as I see it and if I've experienced it. The answer to what is mental illness might be an obvious answer to some, but not everyone. There's mental illness and then there's chronic mental illness too.

First off, health is not just physical. It's mind, body, spirit. If one is out of balance then, at some point, another part will be affected. All three are equally as important. NB: With spirit I mean your go-juice, what makes you happy, what gets you out of bed in the morning, your thirst for being. 

For me to best explain mental illness as I understand it then I must start with physical and genetic disorders. It all starts before you're even born. From the moment of conception you're already set up for predisposition. You're predisposed if your family history has cancer, stroke, heart disease, fibromyalgia, diabetes, alzheimers, blood clots, and the list goes on.

Not everything is purely down to genes. I have a prothrombin 20210 gene mutation. One of my parents has it and there was a 50% chance I would get it. I didn't find out I had it until I had a blood clot (pulmonary embolism) when I was 29. My chances are up because I am predisposed to developing clots, but why did I go 29 years without developing a clot?

Introducing the environmental factors. At the time I had pulmonary embolism I was quite unwell. I was underweight, suffering from muscle weakness, I had anaemia, and when I went christmas shopping I ended up spending two whole days in bed. I wasn't moving and I was probably dehydrated. So I got some clots.

Catching Up

I've been distracted lately. Or maybe the right term is busy. In a good way, mostly. 

My back has decided sitting at the dining table to type is not cool. I'm doing physio three times a week and a bunch of exercises three times a day. It's kinda made me not want to type or blog, but today I am taking over my partner's desk as she is in the office. I felt inspired.

I finished a great psychology book, Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson, and began a new one, Greenlights by Matthew McConaughey. It's a big deal for me after the anhedonia and depression. I realised the other day I had begun a trilogy in January 2020, made it to the sequel, only to lose reading momentum at page 378. 378! That's some effort and yet apparently not enough for me lol. So, yeah, big deal for me.

I've officially started a book club. We're getting things underway, have chosen our first book, and have set the date for our first meet up. I had a book club years ago which I ran for two years. Unfortunately I was so triggered at the time, and unaware of it, that book club wasn't a fun experience for me. This time will be different and I'm quite excited.

The Boy Who Could See Demons by Carolyn Jess-Cooke

Originally Published on Bookish Ardour 06.03.2016

“I first met my demon the morning that Mum said Dad had gone.”

Alex Connolly is ten years old, likes onions on toast, and can balance on the back legs of his chair for fourteen minutes. His best friend is a 9000-year-old demon called Ruen.

When his depressive mother attempts suicide yet again, Alex meets child psychiatrist Anya. Still bearing the scars of her own daughter’s battle with schizophrenia, Anya fears for Alex’s mental health and attempts to convince him that Ruen doesn’t exist.

But as she runs out of medical proof for many of Alex’s claims, she is faced with a question: does Alex suffer from schizophrenia, or can he really see demons?

My Review

Dissociation isn't a Joke, but Gratitude is Sweet.

Following is a combination of topic and dissociating. You're welcome to read all of it or skip to the topic of gratitude by scrolling down to this highlighted colour.

While I was typing gratitude in the title the 'D' on my bluetooth keyboard decided it would pop out halfway. I use a bluetooth keyboard as my Mac is 10 years old and the built-in keyboard stopped working awhile ago. A year ago I probably would have seen this as a shitty thing. I'm used to things not working out right, but that's a subject for another post. I say, before I digress way down a rabbit hole.

Anyway, so gratitude. I've noticed when my perspective is stuck somewhere after going through a downward spiral I am far less open to suggestions and advice. I even have a post coming up about being defiant and combative with advice. Talk about a rabbit hole! I had to switch over to this draft half-way through because holy shit.... Alice hit the landing zone and fell through another hole. 

I'm triggered today. It's coming out in a tangent/dissociative mood. I will attempt to be as concise and on point as possible. I promise not to unleash my full Alice Brain on you, but this is what it's like when you have PTSD, OCD, blah blah, and are trying TO DO THE THING.

I need a moment. And after some very mindful eating....

Anhedonia!

I am excited.... I'm having a moment. In my first post I mentioned there is a condition I have and couldn't remember the name of it. Was having a brain fart. For days, apparently. All I could remember was there was an "A" and a "H."

In the original post I said I would post about it when I remembered the name, so here I am.

It's Anhedonia!

anhedonia

/ˌanhɪˈdəʊnɪə/

Learn to pronounce

noun

PSYCHIATRY

inability to feel pleasure in normally pleasurable activities.

THIS^ has been my life for the longest time. It's weird, I didn't really know the impact of it until things began to improve. Albeit marginally, but still improvement enough for me to have an "oh?" moment. 

Literally. 

I don't remember what I was doing, but one day I was in the middle of something and I felt enjoyment from my activity. It was fleeting, but it was wonderful.

I FELT SOMETHING DIFFERENT.

Hello?

Hmm, the first post. I used to love the first post on a new blog. I used to love blogging. I used to blog so much I have neglected blogs on several different platforms gathering cyber dust.

The thing is, I want to blog again, but I have this issue... I forget the name of the condition, but it's one of those things usually associated with PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression. I have all three and OCD which, after years, led to me realising I struggled to feel enjoyment with past hobbies. I kept saying I liked or loved something, but I wasn't really feeling it.

When I figure out the name of the condition, again, I will blog about it.

So after no blogging for years I decided to start back up again.