So I'm now back on the Citalopram. I'll have to see how it goes, I know it's not a wonder cure - it doesn't work straight away, but here's hoping it can help.
The one thing I have found since I started back on Citalopram, is that I'm finding it increasingly difficult to get up in the morning. Even if I get enough sleep, I still have to drag myself out of bed to start the day. This morning wasn't any different.
My alarm is set for 5am so I can be awake and ready with time to prepare lunch etc. I'm not getting out of bed until an our later, and even then it's a struggle... Let's hope it doesn't last for long.
Thursday, 15 January 2015
Tuesday, 13 January 2015
How I felt today and my history with food
The discomfort in my chest has continued today. It really got worse during the staff meeting, but I think that just means I was stressed over what was going on.
So I have decided that by the end of the month I will
give this new diet thing the doctor suggested a go. I need to work out my problems with food
anyway.
As a kid, as far as I know, I was pretty good with eating until I was allowed to feed myself, that's when it got........strange. Because of whatever happened back then - I don't eat vegetables. I reckon it may have had something to do with being forced to stay at the table until my plate was clear, veggies and all, that created this barrier between me and vegetables. I know I have to change this but it is really difficult.
This created a knock on effect and my mum had to make separate dinners for me other wise I would not eat. It has been this way since I can remember, so changing it will be harder than hard.
Initial feelings after the doctors appointment
Monday 12th January 2015
Apparently I experienced my first ever anxiety/panic attack
yesterday. I spent today with an
extremely worrying discomfort in my chest, along with pain in my arms and dizzy
spells. I was so frightened I thought I
might possibly end up in hospital. The
discomfort is still there but after an emergency trip to the doctors, at least
I know what was wrong.
Problem is, I am really not in a good place right now and I
very almost blew up at one of my friends because of something that wasn’t their
fault. I just want to curl up into a
ball and hide away until I feel better, but I know that just isn’t
possible. Right, now I’m typing
nonsense/jumbled ramblings because I don’t know how I feel.
An introduction is in order....
Hi there!
If your have found my blog then welcome. I'm Sam and I have recently come to terms with the state of my mental health. This is just a bit about my background and how I have got to where I am now.
Now I'm not trying to be a drama queen or anything, it's just that over the last couple of months the state of my mental health has really become apparent to me. I've always been a bit odd, not quite right. I never liked being in big groups or socialising to any major extent. I always went into performing arts - I guess it was a way to pretend to be someone else and hide how I was feeling from myself.
I had always thought something wasn't quite right in my head, but no matter how often I went to the doctor during my teenage years they always shrugged my concerns aside and made me believe I was making it up. To some extent I still believe that I might be making it up and that I'm a burden to those I know.
My family has a fairly long history of depression and mental health issues, so I felt a little justified to have concerns when I first really started feeling something was wrong. I felt like I had to hide who I really was as a person and become someone else in order to be accepted and have friends (something I am starting to rectify). It has taken me a long time to get to this point in my life about how I think about myself and it is an extremely big step, but it is not the end of the journey - it is only the beginning.
I suppose this chapter in my mental health journey started around November 2013. This was the time when my relationship of 7 years ended and everything fell apart in my eyes. With no real sense of closure I was left to go on with my life - questioning everything (I'm not even sure this has anything to do with anything). I spent several months pretending I was happy. Obviously the first month or so was the worst part of the process, and I have never really taken rejection well, so I suffered. At the time, I tried to ask for help and even went so far as to request therapy to get me through this difficult time, with hope that I could get help for the way my mind would think.
The thing is, I have tried therapy before. I am ashamed to say that I tried to take my own life 8 years ago and because of that I was given therapy. I sometimes found that I felt worse instead of better, and before anyone goes on to say 'It has to get worse before it gets better', I wouldn't say that was the case for me. I never felt better after a session, ever, in fact I felt worse. After about 2 months I stopped going, lying to the terapist saying I felt much better and that I could cope. But in all honesty, the guy creeped me out, I didn't feel like I was getting better and that made me worse.
'So why try it again?' I hear you ask. Well, seeing as I was only a teenager back then, I thought I had grown up enough for it to help me. I was wrong. The only good thing to come out of the therapy this time around was the fact that I was able to look objectively at previous relationships. Did I feel better about myself? Well, I was happy in my own skin. I had come to terms with who I was as a person, but I was still concerned with what people thought of me. I would like to point out that I had given up trying to change for people, but it still worried me what others thought. In fact, I still panic from time to time. Thberapy this time round made me feel like everything was my fault. We would talk about my childhood and how it made me feel and I would end up crying. Not a carthartic kind of crying, just a sad crying like I was reliving everything again. I have made peace with the 'demons' of my childhood I still remember things and such but like Timon and Pumbaa say 'Hakuna Matata'. It's in the past and I just deal with it in that way. Digging it all up just made me question my very exsistence again - and that was NOT why I asked for help this time round. So, I once again lied to the therapist and stopped going.
I'm good at hiding a lot of what I feel, so that was how I got on. I found someone else who wanted to be with me, despite what I would call 'my issues'. But I would still have dark days. They were few and far between, but they were there. At least, until June/July of last year...........
I don't know what happened, maybe it was the workload at work - who knows - all I know is that I started losing the motivation to do ANYTHING. I was involved in a theatre group and that would take my mind off things, but it wasn't enough to get me through the whole week. I was having trouble sleeping, had completely gone off my food, and for someone who barely ate anything anyway, this was not good.
I went to the doctor and they ordered some tests. The tests came back clear so the doctor thought nothing off it. I however was worried it was the start of something else. Turns out I was right. Around October/November time I started to notice things a lot more. It was after I had finished my most recent show, so I guess keeping busy had helped. I was having trouble sleeping again and my appetite was once again gone. What's mmore, I was losing the motivation to do anything. I was untidy and didn't care, washing was left for days and even when I did have time, I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I knew something was wrong, but I was afraid to ask for help as I felt no one would believe me. My friends told me to get help and after a lot of putting it off I went back to the doctor and told them again of my symptoms.
The doctor prescribed me some meds - Citalopram. Only a months worth though. The word depression was thrown around the room but nothing concrete was ever said, I was just glad that it was said as part of a conversation about me and that something might be done that could help.
I think the meds worked. Well, looking back - considering my situation now - I can say they definitely worked. I ended up only taking the months supply and then going cold turkey (a bad choice, I know) but I had emense trouble getting an appointment over the Christmas period.
I was OK, at first. It was until about 3 days ago that it hit me as to how much they were helping me. I was auditioning for my theatre groups next show and I froze up. Completely froze and refused to do it. It took my friends almost 3 hours, to coax me into just reading the script. I panicked. Flat out panicked and it wasn't until the next day that I found out I had had an anxiety/panic attack.
My shoulders hurt that night and when I woke up my heart/chest felt fluttery. I went to work and it carried on all day. At this point I got scared and after work I managed to get an emergency appointment. This is where we are now (i.e. the doctors appointment was yesterday). The doctor said that I had probably experienced an anxiety/panic attack. When I mentioned about the problem with getting the meds and an appointment, he immediately wrote the prescription. He proceeded to talk about anxiety and depression - a lot more than the other doctor did - and ways to help manage it.
We also had a chat about nutrition and lifestyle etc. He suggested that I try the Paleo Whole30 diet. I'm going to give it a try, but eating vegetable is going to be a challenge (I'll talk about that later).
In a nutshell, part of my journey has happened, but it was a journey I had no real idea I was experiencing. I am now on this journey with my eyes open and I hope, with the help of my partner, friends and the doctor, I will be able to manage it a lot better than I have in the past.
If your have found my blog then welcome. I'm Sam and I have recently come to terms with the state of my mental health. This is just a bit about my background and how I have got to where I am now.
Now I'm not trying to be a drama queen or anything, it's just that over the last couple of months the state of my mental health has really become apparent to me. I've always been a bit odd, not quite right. I never liked being in big groups or socialising to any major extent. I always went into performing arts - I guess it was a way to pretend to be someone else and hide how I was feeling from myself.
I had always thought something wasn't quite right in my head, but no matter how often I went to the doctor during my teenage years they always shrugged my concerns aside and made me believe I was making it up. To some extent I still believe that I might be making it up and that I'm a burden to those I know.
My family has a fairly long history of depression and mental health issues, so I felt a little justified to have concerns when I first really started feeling something was wrong. I felt like I had to hide who I really was as a person and become someone else in order to be accepted and have friends (something I am starting to rectify). It has taken me a long time to get to this point in my life about how I think about myself and it is an extremely big step, but it is not the end of the journey - it is only the beginning.
I suppose this chapter in my mental health journey started around November 2013. This was the time when my relationship of 7 years ended and everything fell apart in my eyes. With no real sense of closure I was left to go on with my life - questioning everything (I'm not even sure this has anything to do with anything). I spent several months pretending I was happy. Obviously the first month or so was the worst part of the process, and I have never really taken rejection well, so I suffered. At the time, I tried to ask for help and even went so far as to request therapy to get me through this difficult time, with hope that I could get help for the way my mind would think.
The thing is, I have tried therapy before. I am ashamed to say that I tried to take my own life 8 years ago and because of that I was given therapy. I sometimes found that I felt worse instead of better, and before anyone goes on to say 'It has to get worse before it gets better', I wouldn't say that was the case for me. I never felt better after a session, ever, in fact I felt worse. After about 2 months I stopped going, lying to the terapist saying I felt much better and that I could cope. But in all honesty, the guy creeped me out, I didn't feel like I was getting better and that made me worse.
'So why try it again?' I hear you ask. Well, seeing as I was only a teenager back then, I thought I had grown up enough for it to help me. I was wrong. The only good thing to come out of the therapy this time around was the fact that I was able to look objectively at previous relationships. Did I feel better about myself? Well, I was happy in my own skin. I had come to terms with who I was as a person, but I was still concerned with what people thought of me. I would like to point out that I had given up trying to change for people, but it still worried me what others thought. In fact, I still panic from time to time. Thberapy this time round made me feel like everything was my fault. We would talk about my childhood and how it made me feel and I would end up crying. Not a carthartic kind of crying, just a sad crying like I was reliving everything again. I have made peace with the 'demons' of my childhood I still remember things and such but like Timon and Pumbaa say 'Hakuna Matata'. It's in the past and I just deal with it in that way. Digging it all up just made me question my very exsistence again - and that was NOT why I asked for help this time round. So, I once again lied to the therapist and stopped going.
I'm good at hiding a lot of what I feel, so that was how I got on. I found someone else who wanted to be with me, despite what I would call 'my issues'. But I would still have dark days. They were few and far between, but they were there. At least, until June/July of last year...........
I don't know what happened, maybe it was the workload at work - who knows - all I know is that I started losing the motivation to do ANYTHING. I was involved in a theatre group and that would take my mind off things, but it wasn't enough to get me through the whole week. I was having trouble sleeping, had completely gone off my food, and for someone who barely ate anything anyway, this was not good.
I went to the doctor and they ordered some tests. The tests came back clear so the doctor thought nothing off it. I however was worried it was the start of something else. Turns out I was right. Around October/November time I started to notice things a lot more. It was after I had finished my most recent show, so I guess keeping busy had helped. I was having trouble sleeping again and my appetite was once again gone. What's mmore, I was losing the motivation to do anything. I was untidy and didn't care, washing was left for days and even when I did have time, I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I knew something was wrong, but I was afraid to ask for help as I felt no one would believe me. My friends told me to get help and after a lot of putting it off I went back to the doctor and told them again of my symptoms.
The doctor prescribed me some meds - Citalopram. Only a months worth though. The word depression was thrown around the room but nothing concrete was ever said, I was just glad that it was said as part of a conversation about me and that something might be done that could help.
I think the meds worked. Well, looking back - considering my situation now - I can say they definitely worked. I ended up only taking the months supply and then going cold turkey (a bad choice, I know) but I had emense trouble getting an appointment over the Christmas period.
I was OK, at first. It was until about 3 days ago that it hit me as to how much they were helping me. I was auditioning for my theatre groups next show and I froze up. Completely froze and refused to do it. It took my friends almost 3 hours, to coax me into just reading the script. I panicked. Flat out panicked and it wasn't until the next day that I found out I had had an anxiety/panic attack.
My shoulders hurt that night and when I woke up my heart/chest felt fluttery. I went to work and it carried on all day. At this point I got scared and after work I managed to get an emergency appointment. This is where we are now (i.e. the doctors appointment was yesterday). The doctor said that I had probably experienced an anxiety/panic attack. When I mentioned about the problem with getting the meds and an appointment, he immediately wrote the prescription. He proceeded to talk about anxiety and depression - a lot more than the other doctor did - and ways to help manage it.
We also had a chat about nutrition and lifestyle etc. He suggested that I try the Paleo Whole30 diet. I'm going to give it a try, but eating vegetable is going to be a challenge (I'll talk about that later).
In a nutshell, part of my journey has happened, but it was a journey I had no real idea I was experiencing. I am now on this journey with my eyes open and I hope, with the help of my partner, friends and the doctor, I will be able to manage it a lot better than I have in the past.
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