All Change

Life has suddenly changed.

1. I start studying again next month.
2. My boss quit and I have been given her job! I start that next month too.
3. I am coming off Mirtazapine and starting Duloxetine (Cymbalta).

That last one is the one causing concern. I have to come off the Mirtazapine because it saps all my energy and makes me dopey. Life is about to become incredibly busy and I need my wits about me. So bye-bye Mirtazapine. I really wanted to go onto Wellbutrin/Zyban, but they just won’t prescribe it over here. The UK, backward land of the world. So I thought of Reboxetine, an NRI, as an alternative. For some reason my GP went with Duloxetine instead. An SNRI. It affects both Norepinephrine and Seratonin. You get the side effects of both SSRIs and NRIs. Yay!

SSRIs are bad for me. They make me anxious, agitated and push me into rapid-cycling, even with a mood stabiliser. If I had realised that Duloxetine affects Seratonin levels I would have refused it outright. But I only realised that when I got home and went on Crazy Meds. I am scared of losing my stability all because I need to be less tired.

Oh well. I guess I just have to put my faith in the good ol’ NHS once again and hope for the best. So far, I’ve been on SSRIs, which are fine on my body (apart from destroying my sex drive) but bad for my brain, and Mirtazapine, which is good for my brain and bad for my body. Maybe Duloxetine will be good for both my brain and my body. You never know.

On a lighter note… go and read this, it’s utterly hilarious!

Tiredness & Insect Watching

I’m tired. Really tired. I think it’s time to think about reviewing other options for anti-depressants because I am not coping particularly well with this level of exhaustion. However, I have to wait a while because I don’t have another appointment with the CMHT until the end of October (believe me, this is a good thing) and my GP is on holiday for two weeks. Still, I’ve been half-asleep for a good while now, I can get through another couple of weeks.

I’m also horrendously overworked just now. My boss is on holiday so I’m doing – or attempting to do – her work as well as my own. One week down, three to go.

Needless to say, I just can’t seem to summon up the necessary energy to write a proper post here. So I’ll give you this little story instead. This happened on my train journey home from work last Friday. I kid you not, this is how my brain interacts with the world.

I sat in my seat next to a window where I could gaze in as gormless a manner as I liked. A man sat down next to me. We ignored each other, as London transport etiquette demands. I noticed a little flying insect thing on the back of the seat in front of me. I hate flies. I detest them with everything that I am. I squash them without hesitation. I wanted to flick this one, and would have done if it had been of the bluebottle variety. However, 1) it was not of the bluebottle variety, it was long and thin and 2) I would have attracted the attention of the man sitting next to me.

So I watched it. I gave it my beady eye and promised it silently that if it made one move towards me I would flick it. I observed it closely. I watched as it washed its wings and its feet. It had very tiny feet. It was very meticulous about cleaning itself. I found myself drawn to it. After a while it started to walk up and down on the seat, flexing its wings. It moved forward and this is where I forgot that I was not supposed to be attracting the attention of the man sitting next to me. I leaned forward so that I could continue watching. And then I noticed the man staring at me.

Naturally I blushed. I pulled my earphone out and smiled in what I hoped was an endearing manner.

Man, one eyebrow raised: “Er…”
Me: “Well… er… I was just watching that little insect.”
Man: “Right.”
Me: “You see, I was considering flicking it, but then I got rather attached to it.”
Man: “Right.”
Me, blundering helplessly: “You see, it’s got very tiny feet.”
Man: “OK then.”

After we reached the next stop, and another passenger left the train, the man sitting next to me got up and moved to the seat in front of me. Away from the fly-watching lunatic. The fly had meanwhile also moved away to explore the window. The man sat down and then turned round to look at me again. I reassured him that if the fly came back again I would alert him immediately. He smiled and nodded. You know, like people do before they call the men in white coats.

Moral of the story: If you want to kill a fly, don’t watch it first because then you may become attached to it and feel too guilty to squash or flick it, and you may also humiliate yourself. Did I mention that the entire carriage of people turned round to stare at me and my fly?

Robots Made Me

You know what? I’m not depressed! I’m not actually anything. It just hit me.

I had a whole post planned about depression, and some stuff I’m trying to learn about it. I have tried not to write too much about how I’ve been feeling lately, for various reasons, and today I was going to attempt to overcome that little block.

But now I’m not going to write about it because I’m not depressed. I thought I was but I’m not. Maybe the extra dose of Mirtazapine is kicking in. I’m not hypomanic either, which is probably for the best.

Nope, what I am instead is almost completely detached from life. Devoid of emotions. The drugs are turning me into a robot.

I mean, some really good stuff has happened this week, and I am happy about said stuff, but once the initial smiling and hugging is over I go back to staring vacantly. I am much, much more stable than I was, which is so good, because I am finally able to pull off a whole day’s work without panicking, but still…

I wonder if real emotions will come back soon? You know, where you feel sad when something sad happens, happy when something good happens, that sort of thing. A normal range of emotions. (Normal, ha! What the flying feck is normal anyway?) I’ve gone from having extreme emotional reactions to things, to almost complete detachment, where the only thing worth noting is that I sometimes get irritable easily, and I sometimes get a sort of sensory overload which makes me feel squashed-in and panicky.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I was the one who pushed the psychiatrist into raising the dose of the anti-depressant, and I suppose it’s a good thing that the Valproate stops me bouncing off the walls, but I kind of miss that, you know? Where you can feel excitement and energy coursing through your veins like electricity. Where ideas buzz around your mind and you feel at peace with the whole world.

When I remember that I start to think that maybe I should just come off the meds. Just quit them. We could just pretend that all this never happened. You wouldn’t say anything, right? Or better yet, I’ll just cry nonchalantly, “who cares?” Yeah, so my brain is messed up, but what’s so bloody wrong with that anyway? But see, the thing is, I really don’t think that a brief couple of hours of euphoric hypomania is really worth it. Most of the time I was struggling to sit still, to keep my breathing steady, desperately hoping that my heart wouldn’t pound so fast that it popped out of my mouth. Not exactly fun times.

So blah is better. And I will continue to wait and see what happens next.

News

I got The News today. I got accepted onto the MA!!! Yay for me! I’m very happy and soooooo relieved.

I also saw the shrink on Wednesday. My dose of Mirtazapine has been increased to 45mg, which is apparently pretty high, so lets hope it works! She said I have to be very diligent in recording my moods because she thinks it may push me too far up. So far I feel exactly the same as I did.

I really haven’t got much to post about. I’m off work for a week (I go back on Wednesday), I’ve seen friends and been to a concert (that was brilliant, my favourite band, Third Day). I saw the step-daughter again today and things were fine and more relaxed than the last time I saw her.

I think I need a wee break from blogging. I just can’t think of anything to write about. Too much self-analysis can do more harm than good sometimes. As it is I’m writing down my mood every day (or when I remember anyway!) and I see my counselor once a week, so it’s not like I can just plod along without thinking.

I’ll be back properly as soon as any coherent thoughts enter my head screaming to be written down.

Er…

I’m tired and lethargic and quite fed up. I’m so looking forward to next week, when I have a week off work.

I have a review with a new psychiatrist on Wednesday – and guess what! I’m getting nervous. What a surprise, eh? I’m not sure I’ll be able to present a coherent picture of what’s going on inside my head. My moods change almost daily, so it’s like seeing the world through ever-changing coloured lenses. But at that same time my mood changes are more subtle than your average Bipolar Joe. So I’m worried that maybe they’ll just see me as a waste of time as I’m not suicidal. And perhaps I am. I should just pull myself together and enjoy life.

Worry worry worry. It’s what I do.

I need to review the Mirtazapine. I’ve had some persistent depressions recently. Perhaps the dose should be increased to higher than 30mg – but then my cravings for crappy food might increase too. Along with the other side effects. I mean, 30mg is making it hard enough already to get out of bed in the mornings. And then there’s the dizziness and headaches. I love that, gotta tell ya. My blood pressure drops when I stand up, so I’ve got all the unpleasant effects of being drunk, without the merriment. Apparently the whole random blood pressure thing is one of Mirtazapine’s not-quite-so-common side effects – well, that makes me feel special.

I’m in the office on my own today, which is making it slightly difficult to do any work. I could just ponce about on the Internet all day, writing pointless twaddle on here. But I figure it would be better to work my arse off for a while and then go home early so I can do some painting. Trees. I love trees, so I’m going to have a go at painting them. Maybe that will make me feel more alive.

And I’m eating grapes and trying to pretend that they’re satisfying. I’d rather have a chocolate muffin.

Bad vs. Good

Bad:

• I have gained a stone in three weeks since I started taking Mirtazapine.
• For an anti-depressant, it doesn’t seem to be doing it’s job particularly well.
• The hardest task of the day is getting out of bed.
• Getting out of bed is followed by numerous other near-impossible tasks, such as getting dressed, having a shower, etc.
• It’s sunny outside and I’m stuck in my cell-like office where the sun does not deign to shine.
• I went to music group practice at church last night – first time in weeks. I got so nervous I burst into tears – I don’t know why I was surprised by this; after all, it appears to have become my norm.
• I used to love singing and now I can’t seem to muster up any enthusiasm for it at all.

Good:

• I’m going to join a gym next week and will work off my newly gained poundage that way. I have been told that this will also help me with depression – something about endorphins. All I hear is aching muscles, so I’m a teensy bit sceptical, but I’ll give it a go.
• The Mirtazapine is certainly helping me sleep at night.
• At least I am managing to get out of bed each morning. Eventually.
• I have also accomplished many other things each day, such as matters of personal hygiene and putting one foot in front of the other. The phrase “must keep swimming, must keep swimming…” circles endlessly around my head.
• I love sunshine. I left my desk for an entire half hour today, just to bask in it.
• I ventured back to music group practice. Yes, I cried, no I didn’t sing much, but it’s a start, right? I am still alive today to tell the tale.
• I live in hope that enthusiasm will one day be returned to me. And although I have lost my enthusiasm for some things, I have gained enthusiasm for others. To name but two: chocolate bars and middle of the day drinking.

This post has been brought to you by Karita of the Bullet Points. The girl you are familiar with has gone on holiday to a tropical island and is getting a suntan. Meanwhile KBP (as your new host prefers to be known) is finding it somewhat difficult to form coherent sentences without long periods of thought in order to locate the necessary vocabulary. KBP will inform you when the regular writer who has words in her head has returned from her languishing.