i'll be okay...just not today.

i have a bad habit of abandoning this blog when i feel like i'm doing 'okay' in life and i feel terribly guilty for this. blogging combined with the unwavering support of my followers has always given me the strength to see through another day/ week/month when i've been on the verge of admitting defeat, therefore i feel disappointed in myself for not continuing to write even when my health has somewhat improved.

i suppose the truth is i've been feeling relatively well over the last few months...as well as can be having my brain chemistry anyway, and instead of spending days on end wallowing in depression/ writing about how shitty i feel i've actually been out in the world living (a major accomplishment for anyone who has been following my journey over the past 18 months). 

'living' or 're-building' myself has consisted of the following: 

enrolling in uni again part-time to continue my masters in counselling and psychotherapy that i had to defer last year.

starting a little 'business' selling my dream catchers. 

socialising with old friends and attending birthdays/ other events instead of declining every invitation that comes my way. 

living in my own place again/ trying to be independent. 

applying for jobs. 

the last week though i've crashed, and quite unexpectedly at that. i knew it would be difficult trying to reclaim my old life after being in a warped reality for such a long period of time, however i thought i had adequately prepared myself for the hurdles i'd have to overcome. as i mentioned, i've been applying for jobs recently as i finally feel stable enough to return to employment...i know that these days landing a job, even a retail job at that isn't always easy, however i didn't quite prepare myself for the battering my fragile ego would cop from being rejected by potential employers. 

i've had a couple of interviews which haven't been successful for a couple of reasons.

a)  i become so anxious when i know i'm required to impress a manager/ sell myself that my brain totally freezes and anything constructive i had planned to say evaporates in my head. 

b) the fact i haven't been employed for eighteen months due to (mental) illness is pretty unappealing despite my experience prior to quitting my last job and the fact i have a psychology degree under my belt. 

c) when i'm agitated i come across as aloof and cold which is the total opposite of my actual personality if i was feeling calm. i have considered dosing myself up on valium before an interview to ease my anxiety, however i'd probably come across as a complete space cadet then and i don't know what is worse! 

after a couple of knock backs the little self-confidence i had built up took a nose dive and my optimism started to fade. combine this with a few consecutive low days and my old friend depression is perched back on my shoulder whispering those self-loathing sentiments in my ear again. 

i ran into my old manager the other day and she offered me my job back at jigsaw, however i really feel like it is important for me to start fresh somewhere...although i suppose beggars can't be choosy can they. 

roadtrippin'.

B and i returned from our road trip to melbourne on monday night. apart from the long drive (which was fun in parts, but boring in others) we had a lovely time. every time i visit melbourne i am overcome by a massive urge to pack up and move there because i love the city so much. i wish we were able to cram a bit more into our short stay but time simply escaped us. nonetheless, we caught up with B's sister and met some of her friends, did a bit of shopping, hit the city on saturday night and generally chilled.

i was planning to take a lot of photos, but forgot to get my camera out the majority of the time- hopeless! here are a few snaps i managed to capture on my phone though (apologies for the average quality).

 

after a nice weekend away, i was very upset to return to my parent's house and discover that my seventeen year old cat 'friday' was quite unwell. she's had a tumour on her liver for the last six months or so and although she's continued to live quite comfortably we were warned by the vet that she would gradually deterioate. mum and i took her to the vet and found out her tumour had started to hemorrhage and my precious girl would need to be put down to prevent her from suffering a painful natural death. on tuesday morning i had to say goodbye to my princess which is one of the hardest things i've ever had to do. i was given friday by my grandmother when i was six years old and couldn't have asked for a better companion throughout my childhood/ teenage years. as a child i remember pushing her around in my doll's pram and feeding her warm milk out of a bottle- i literally treated her like a baby. although i hate that my mental illness has forced me to move back home with my parents, i'm so grateful that i've been able to spend the last twelve months with my beautiful kitty.
i already miss seeing her around the house and all her amusing little quirks but i know i'll always have a special place in my heart for her.



day dreamin'.

being creative makes the dark days more bearable. here are some of my recent works.

gypsy inspired dreamcatcher- 

the charm in the centre reads 'shanti (peace and tranquillity)'. 

a series of 'element' dreamcatchers in the making- sea, earth and air.

earth finished-
the charm in the centre reads 'light and love'.

sea finished-
the charm in the centre reads 'glide confidently in the direction of your dreams, live the life you have imagined'.

feathers, shells and pretty little trinkets.

and for something totally different, i decided to make a new year's resolution jar- all the items in it symbolize various goals and hopes that i have for the year ahead. the items include (and represent) the following:

smokey quartz- promotes serenity, calmness and positive thoughts.
carnelian- brings in joy, blessings and happiness. enhances energy flow and creativity. lifts self-esteem, creating emotional warmth.
lepidolite- assists to make changes smoothly. opens the heart to self love and love of others. gives a feeling of universal light, hope and acceptance.
small crochet doily- to pursue my creativity and crafty endeavours.
my old jigsaw name badge- to be stable and well enough to return to employment.
feather- freedom- particularly from the demons in my head.
shell- to travel more, seek adventure, little trips to different locations.
buddha- self enlightenment, living in harmony.
destiny cards (fulfilment + confidence) - within myself and various aspects of my life.
pumpkin seeds- to maintain a healthy diet and improve my body image concerns.

i've put this in my bedroom so i can see it daily and be reminded of the things i wish to achieve in 2013. 

and then she disappeared...

 

these photos of me were both taken last september just before i got sick.

the first was taken before one of my shifts at jigsaw. the second was taken one night out with two of my good friends, T and A. when i look at myself in these photos i feel like i don't even recognise this girl anymore. she seems so elusive now...a ghost...a mere memory of a past life.

 

i desperately miss the old me.

the me that worked like most other people my age, the me that studied to shape a career, the me that was social and had a lot of friends, the me that wasn't exactly 'high on life' but wasn't living in a nightmare either, the me that was independent and self-sufficient, the me that smiled and laughed more... the me that wasn't completely debilitated by depression and anxiety.

 

i miss this rhiannon and i hope and pray daily that somehow i'll be able to find her again...surely she must still exist somewhere deep inside of me, right?

i apologise for the depressing post...i guess i'm feeling a bit crap today.


mourning.

 

what a hectic week.

i doubt anything could have prepared me for the (unexpected) events that have proceeded to unfold over the last seven days and hurtled me back into a state of depression. i'm not even sure how to word this as i'm still trying to process the ordeal and figure out my emotions so i'll just share with you the facts.

 

thursday evening i discovered i was eight weeks pregnant.

considering i hadn't really experienced any symptoms to suggest i may have been carrying a baby (i get THE worst pms so bloating, breast tenderness, sweet cravings etc are all pretty standard for me anyway) this in itself came as a huge shock.

i made a trip down to my local medical centre because i was experiencing excruciating stomach pain and was losing an abnormal amount of blood (sorry for the ickiness!). after a urine test confirmed that i was pregnant the doctor predicted i was probably having a miscarriage but booked me in for an ultrasound the next morning nonetheless.

i didn't get much sleep thursday night. about a million thoughts were racing through my head.

the ultrasound on friday morning revealed that i was in fact still pregnant but instead of the fetus being attached to my uterus it was stuck in my left fallopian tube- an ectopic pregnancy.

as the baby had been growing it was stretching my tube beyond its capacity and causing internal bleeding. i was informed that this type of pregnancy was considered a medical emergency because the tube could potentially rupture and i would haemorrhage to death. consequently the baby would have to be removed, along with the tube if it had been damaged too much. following this discovery everything happened so fast- i was rushed down to the women's and children's hospital and being prepared for surgery that night. considering my mental state is already fragile at the best of times, i think the shock of it all sent my anxiety soaring which required a larger dose of xanax than i'd usually need to calm down. thankfully B (the guy i have been seeing, and obviously the father of the child) along with my mum and younger sister were amazingly supportive.

 

i woke up saturday morning in a fair bit of pain, both physically and emotionally. unfortunately the baby had caused extensive damage to my fallopian tube so it had to be removed along with the fetus- as a result my fertility has now been somewhat reduced which i'm finding pretty devastating and difficult to accept. the surgeon reassured me that i still have one healthy tube that i should be able to conceive from in the future but also warned me that i have a 10% chance of having another ectopic pregnancy.

 

i can usually describe my emotions pretty accurately but in this instance i cannot string together a sentence to articulate exactly how i'm feeling. furthermore, i don't know how i should be feeling.

i suppose i've never been very maternal in nature but for those twelve or whatever hours i actually knew i had a human that i created alive inside of me i experienced a very dramatic change of heart. i suddenly felt a strong connection to the baby, my baby,  and a desire to want to protect it from harm. knowing that my body failed in providing the best vessel possible to sustain a little life brings me great disappointment and the ambiguity of the cause of the ectopic has left me questioning whether i did something to jeopardize the normal implantation of the embryo. 

 

from a logical point of view i know that right now i am incapable in so many ways of bringing a child into this world so this outcome, despite the sadness it brings me is probably for the best, however i resent that i was unable to have any choice in the decision whether to keep it or not because of the life-threatening circumstances.

 

 overall the ideal word to describe how i'm feeling right now is empty. i didn't know i was pregnant for long, but i suppose this emptiness is all part of the natural grieving process. being told i was pregnant, would have to lose the baby, part of my reproductive system and my full fertility all in the same day was a lot to comprehend. my psychiatrist was contacted and requested i be kept in hospital a few days longer than usual to ensure i was coping okay and not about to throw myself off the hospital roof or something. 

 

i'm pretty certain this experience will remain with me for life, although i know in time things will get easier. sometimes i think i'm cursed with bad luck to constantly face these trials and tribulations, but then i try and remind myself that with each challange i overcome i'm getting a little bit stronger. hopefully one day i'll be strong enough to endure anything.



tip of the iceberg.

my apologies for being m.i.a of late- it's been a rough (although enlighening) few weeks. it has now been six months that i've been unwell. six fucking months. i know in the grand scheme of things six months isn't that long really when you consider those who spend years battling cancer or something. nonetheless, words cannot describe how utterly exhausted and over it i am. i feel like i've been through the fucking ringer. after months of seeing various mental health professionals with miminal progress in terms of my recovery both my optimism and willpower to contine this battle were definitely dwindling. throughout this time not only have i struggled to find the correct path back to optimal health, but have been completely baffled by the source behind the onset of this disorder. i have racked my brain countless times trying to come up with some sort of logical explanation to justify this monster creeping up on me so unexpectedly, however, all my carefully constructed theories, my extensive research and even my psych background have amounted to nothing but a bunch of loose ends. a whole lot of unanswered questions. now i like a good mystery as much as the next person, but not one that can't be solved and not one that is occuring in my own body!

the past four weeks has been a month of revelations. finally the pieces to this puzzle are starting to fit together. *warning 'woman talk' coming up*. with each month that has passed throughout this ordeal, i began noticing a slight pattern to the severity of the anxiety (and depression for that matter). mid way through my menstrual cycle and the week prior to getting my period were the worst- standard pms i assumed. the week following my period i felt somewhat 'anxiety free', although the relief was only temporary. i discussed these observations with the facilitator of my group therapy, and while she reassured me that hormonal changes can influence a person's mood who has a predisposition to mental illness, she suggested that maybe i should make an appointment with an endocrine (hormone specialist). feeling like i'd exhausted all other avenues and in sheer desperation i did exactly that. i started seeing dr callighan two months ago and the first thing he asked me to do was stop taking the pill (which i'd been on since i was 16 or so) so he could do some tests and examine what my natural hormones were doing. i followed his instructions and patiently waited for my system to rid itself of seven years of synthetic hormones. my first cycle off the pill was okay, i didn't feel much different to be honest. this past cycle, however- oh my god, i turned into some psycho bitch from an R rated horror movie. i can positively say i have never felt more out of control and more scared of myself. the bad stuff started happening from ovulation onwards- extreme anxiety, panic attacks, suicidal type depression, bouts of uncontrollable crying, an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and more self-loathing than ever. my beloved hair started falling out in clumps (dismiss my psych's diagnosis for this below), my skin became dehydrated, i kept getting urinary tract infections which antibiotics couldn't clear up and generally felt like fucking shit. here is a snippet from my personal journey that i wrote around this time...

"i am now so completely and utterly absorbed in my own misery that i simply cannot comprehend anything beyond this, and the truth is i am scared. i am deeply frightened by the way i am feeling. i am scared to live, and i am scared to die. i feel like i'm biding my time on some strange middle ground suspended between life and death just waiting for fate to swing me one way or another. i imagine this scenario is precisely what people have in mind when they describe 'limbo'. in latin the term means edge or boundary, referring to the 'edge' of hell. well i am definitely in limbo, on la la land, on another fucking planet for all i know. i feel like this intricate tangle of problems has become such a knotted mess that i simply do not have the ability or energy to continue trying to unravel everything. my body aches. every part of my being aches. but most of all my soul aches, aching for some form of relief. desperately searching for the key to unlock the source of my eternal misery so i can finally heal before it's too late".

by day twenty-one hanging myself with an extension cord from a gum tree in my parent's front yard was becoming all too tempting so i promptly got on the phone and demanded an explanation from my poor endocrine as to why i had so rapidly gone from an anxious person to a nutcase in the span of a couple of weeks. thankfully this 'experiment' as he called it wasn't a total waste of time. the blood tests revealed quite a significant hormonal imbalance- basically i produce too much oestrogen in comparison to progesterone and all my symptoms, both psychological and physical were characteristic of 'oestrogen dominance'. the doctor believes that i've probably had this imbalance since adolescence but the pill had been somewhat artifically regulating my hormones and masking the symptoms. apparently over time synthetic progesterone contained in the pill can hinder your body's ability to produce its own natural progesterone and in turn contribute to depression and anxiety. i'm still trying to get my head around all this as for years now i've been told by mainstream medical pracitioners that my mental illness is the result of a chemical imbalance, some kind of trauma, genetics or a personality thing (which i haven't entirely ruled out) but when i reflect on my history as a 'woman' and the reaction i had when coming off the pill i am increasingly convinced that all my troubles could be hormonal.

dr callighan aims to naturally get my hormones in balance again through the use of bio-identical progesterone cream so i hopefully start feeling better. it's all a bit trial and error getting the dose correct and monitoring my symptoms throughout the month as my hormones fluctuate, however i'm trying to remain positive that this treatment has the potential to make me feel the best i've felt since entering the turbulent phase of puberty.

a lot of the time i resent my anxiety. it has stole so much from me in a mere six months, but i also feel thankful for it because it has posed as a valuable warning sign that something greater has been happening below the surface that i've been totally unaware of. i hate to think of how many women out there are experiencing the same kind of issues, being labelled as 'mentally unstable' and fed anti-depressants or similar. a 'band-aid' is not a solution, and i refuse to resort to this. i am determined to fix the root cause of my anxiety/depression so i can at last move the fuck on with my life and enjoy being a healthy, happy twenty-three year old.

memories.

they haunt me.

update.



i woke up this morning feeling a strong need to summarize where shit is at for me right now in terms of my recovery from this damn anxiety disorder. experience tells me that if i can see my thoughts written down in front of me some clarity is restored in my chaotic mind.

the last couple of weeks have been a little hectic. my anxiety levels have been fluctuating daily which makes it extremely difficult to function, especially on a day when my levels are through the roof and the accompanying symptoms are severe. the fucked thing is there's no real way of predicting when a 'bad day' will be, i literally have to wake up each morning and roll with whatever anxiety throws at me. my panic attacks aren't occuring as often throughout the day but wake me during the night which is probably worse. the obvious difference between daytime attacks and nocturnal attacks is the fact that during the day i am already awake and can feel the panic brewing, therefore i am better able to implement the strategies i have learnt to alleviate the panic and get the attack under control. nocturnal attacks are more frightening simply because there is no time to prepare for the attack, once i wake up i am already in full blown panic mode and not to mention pretty disorientated/ confused from being woken so suddenly by this monster. these are usually the times when i need to pop a valium as it is near impossible to settle back down. being disrupted from my sleep on a regular basis like this fuels the anxiety as i become too worried about going to sleep at night in case i wake up in a horrible panic attack. lack of sleep then adds to the anxiety and round and round the vicious cycle continues.

in addition, my depression has reared its ugly head in a big way lately, however i feel that this form of depression differs from my usual depression to some degree. i think that this state of depression is a secondary condition to the anxiety and i suppose a natural response to the impact this disorder is currently having on my life and my strength of character. self harm and suicidal notions run through my head daily, and although i am pretty confident in saying i would never act upon these ideas (particularly suicide) it is a pretty dark frame of mind to be trapped in.

all of these factors combined makes an A-grade recipe for creating one hell of an unstable/ unhappy/ totally lost individual which is basically what i am at present in a nut shell. while i can see that i am making progress and the overall trend of my recovery is ascending, the process is much slower than i anticipated and its style is very much one step forward, five steps back.

after a lot of deliberation i unexpectedly made the decision to go back to uni part time and start the masters in counselling and psychotherapy i was accepted into. i enrolled in two subjects which are intensives, therefore only go for a few full days each over the first semester. my psychologist seemed to think that gradually returning to uni would be a positive step forward in helping me re-connect with the outside world and provide me with a sense of direction which i am severely lacking. i have always aimed to be a productive/ high achieving/ perfectionist type of person so the predicament that this anxiety disorder has forced me into (ie. unemployed/ socially isolated/ diminished independence/ future goals put on hold etc) is doing absolutely nothing for my self-confidence. i find it very difficult to adopt a 'that's okay' attitude towards not being able to engage in these aspects of life as they are very important to me and form many of my core values.

in terms of medication, i saw my psychiatrist yesterday and he recommended that i replace my use of valium with xanax as it's proven to be a faster acting/ greater anti-anxiety type of benzodiazepine. the dose is stronger than the valium so i was down with that, obviously still being mindful of their addictive nature. thus far i have been reluctant to take anti-depressants due to a bad experience in the past..and being a vain bitch..and wanting the satisfaction of overcoming this battle predominantly without the aid of meds. considering my depression is becoming worse though the longer this anxiety disorder drags on, the psych suggested we have another look at the possibility of starting one. we discussed my issues surrounding weight gain, which in my opinion is probably worthy of its own one hour appointments and he prescribed me cymbalta which is an SNRI that (allegedly) has a low rate of weight gain as a side effect. he said he'd leave it up to me as to whether i feel comfortable starting it or not..i'm not sure what i'll do about that yet. there is a good chance the prescription will remain unfilled and be shoved into a drawer alongside the likes of zoloft, prozac, lexapro etc which never made it to a pharmacy either. ultimately the deal with anti d's is a case of my vanity vs my sanity; it always has been and probably always will be until i can overcome my obsession with having the perfect figure.

thankfully i have some great supports available to me which i will continue to draw upon, namely a psychologist that i resonate with/ my psychiatrist/ group therapy (which i need to attend more regularly)/ my naturopath/ the disability support service at uni/ my family and a handful of understanding, empathetic friends.

i will endeavour to continue doing the following activities which i have found helpful: exercise, exercise, exercise! building up my exposure to anxiety-provoking situations, practicing meditation/ breathing exercises, trying to remain optimistic and making the most of my current circumstances as shitty as they may be, surrounding myself with positive people/ influences, respecting my boundaries but also challanging them, eating small amounts as nauseous as i may feel, knowing when to say 'no' and being okay with that, writing, writing, writing! reading self-help books and gaining as much knowledge/ information as i can, keeping active and busy, listening to my body and finally, reminding myself that sooner or later "this too shall pass" ( i think i need this proverb tattooed on my wrist as a permanent reminder!).

well i think you've all probably heard enough of my crazy for now, and i certainly feel a bit better after typing all that heavy crap out. on a lighter note, i've recently made some winter purchases that i'm eager to share and i'm in the process of preparing for my first giveaway which is a little exciting, so stay tuned!

rock bottom.

there have been several occassions where i've been convinced that i'd hit rock bottom, and sure, they were some pretty low points in time, however i can honestly say that the past four months have shown me what 'rock bottom' really feels like..the hopelessness/ isolation/ desperation has never consumed me in such a savage way. it was late september when i plummeted into mental chaos again..this time round major depression took a backseat, while anxiety and panic ruthlessly tipped my life upside down in a matter of weeks. i've always considered anxiety to be the weaker cousin of depression, but fuck me, how wrong i was. i've experienced mild anxiety in the past and have wrote about random panic attacks before, but never anything that has been debilitating or life changing.

it all started with a major panic attack literally out of the blue which required a trip to hospital and a shot of valium. at the time i thought this would be an isolated incident- totally unprepared for what was to come. unfortunately the high levels of anxiety and panic continued on a daily basis afterwards...it was like someone had flicked a switch in my brain that made me fearful of everything. as much as i pleaded with my mind to return back to 'normal', it was too late..i was already in the midst of a full blown panic disorder with generalized anxiety. from here on in i would wake up every morning crippled with anxiety which kept me bed ridden as both the physical and psychological sensations were too intense to allow me to function..these included: nausea, vomiting, dizziness, hyperventilation, choking, blurred vision, muscle spasms, derealization, depersonalization, indescribable fear and feeling like i was losing my mind. then there were the regular panic attacks which entailed all of the above times one hundred. i couldn't go to work, see anyone, catch a bus, go into a shop, walk out my front door, practically anything, without going into panic mode..and the panic was such a horribly draining experience that i began panicking about panicking. it was a vicious cycle. at the time i thought whatever dick came up with "keep calm and carry on" mustn't have ever endured an anxiety disorder because the strategy seemed virtually impossible to apply. in addition, my brain had started conjuring up all these ludicrous, but highly believable thoughts; for example i was convinced that i was developing schizophrenia or that i would stop breathing or that i would swallow my tongue and choke to death etc. i would stand in the middle of my apartment, hands caged around my head sobbing, "what the fuck is wrong with you!?". i lost 7kgs pretty well instantly due to the strain on my body (which i should have been ecstatic about if you've read the rest of this blog..) but i desperately wished to feel myself again.

i felt like i was trapped in the worst nightmare you could ever imagine...and the most terrifying part was that it was all in my head...and you can't escape your on mind, trust me i've tried countless times. depression suddenly became a dream illness which i longed for, as twisted as that sounds. depression and i were old pals; it was familiar and something i could more or less deal with. the impact anxiety was having on my mind and body was completely foreign, like demons had hijacked my brain and re-wired everything, like i had lost all control. the most frustrating part was, i couldn't understand what exactly had triggered everything off and how on earth i was supposed to unravel this mess.

shit fell apart pretty quickly. i moved back home with my parents temporarily. i trialled different SSRIs/ SNRIs, but discontinued them out of fear of weight gain which would fuel my eating disorder. valium became my new crutch, which i carry on me at all times. i had a stint in hospital and various ambulance visits. i gave up alcohol after learning it makes the anxiety sky rocket and hangovers induce panic attacks. i started seeing a psychologist again..and a psychiatrist..and go to group therapy for people suffering from an anxiety disorder. i became almost childlike again..relying on others and existing in a bubble which felt safe and secure. i was robbed of my confidence, my freedom and independence. i lost friends. i lost my job. i lost my will to live. i nearly lost my identity. i was (and still am to a degree) completely and utterly at the mercy of this illness.

four agonising months have past, which feels like a lifetime, but i finally feel that i am on the road to recovery..although the road certainly is a long and bumpy one. i'm gradually weaning myself back into the world as scary as it is. i've started staying a couple of nights a week at my own apartment in the city and catching up with some of the people who stuck by me through this ordeal. the other day i caught a bus by myself which sounds ridiculous (even to me, as i used to do these things all the time without a problem!) but it was an achievement that increased my strength and optimism just that little bit more. i anticipate that it will still be a while before i am able to hold down employment, return back to uni or live alone full time again..but i suppose in time things will continue to improve, or at least i hope so.

i am generally a very cynical individual; i have no doubt that my contempt for the world and loathing of myself is evident throughout my writing. without sounding too 'spiritual' i am starting to believe that this acute descent into psychological turmoil was necessary for me to truly change my negative outlook on life, my attitude towards certain areas and the high expectations i place upon myself and on others. i've wrote about 'new beginnings', 'fresh starts' and 'turning points' before, but really if i be honest with myself, that was all crap..because nothing really changed in the long term. i don't think any of my ingrained beliefs, values and perceptions would have altered significantly unless i was forced by something beyond my control to strip me back to a raw, vulnerable state and allow me to rebuild myself from scratch. i definitely don't think that this revelation will transform my life into a bed of roses, because obviously that isn't realistic and i definitely don't think i will be totally cured from anxiety. i do, however, believe as the saying goes "when you hit rock bottom the only way back is up"..and up is the direction i intend to go.

slipping away.

i can feel it coming, like a storm approaching overhead. i feel restless and aggitated for i know that it will push me into that dark place again, that black hole of despair. all i can do is wait...wait for it to arrive, and then, consume me, suffocate me...reach deep inside and drain me of any happiness and optimism that may have formed when i was feeling stronger. when its had its fix, it moves on and leaves me a hollow wreck in its wake.

i'm on the verge of having a depressive episode. i think it's been brewing for a couple of weeks now. i have no energy or motivation to do anything, even speaking seems draining. despite having slept for eight- ten hours each night, i wake up feeling exhausted. i haven't really eaten for a week, not because i'm starving myself, i simply have no appetite. everything tastes bland and i can't handle anything solid in my stomach. i've been drinking up&go meal substitutes to avoid passing out.

when i'm like this the house becomes neglected. i don't seem to notice that the blinds are shut and curtains drawn 24/7, or that the dishes sitting in the kitchen sink have started to grow mould, or that rubbish day was monday and the bins are still sitting on the sidewalk three days later...and if i do notice, i feel too apathetic to care. i find bathing, dressing myself and attemping to look presentable enough of a daily chore, let alone anything else. i've taken several sick days from work lately because the anxiety is too intense to step foot out my front door and the teary outbursts are too regular.

the worst thing about having an episode like this though is the overwhelming feeling of misery that extends right down into the pit of my stomach. if there was a bodily fluid called 'sadness' my every organ would be saturated in it. misery is heavy and lonely, it makes you feel small and helpless in a world that is seemingly crashing down around you. it clouds your perspective and drives you to do irrational or self-destructive things. being in a state of misery makes you desperate..desprate to find a crutch that will ease the pain, whether that be a person, a substance, a habit or similar. it truly is awful.

i guess i've had so many of these episodes now i can feel when i'm starting to slip away..they say knowledge is power, but in the case of depression i feel powerless.

up, down, up...down.

i knew the stint of happiness would be short lived. i've been on a high the last few days and now i'm back on a low. i was called into myer today and had a terrible time. i won't go into it, but had a teary moment when a couple of friends came in. don't you hate it when you try your hardest to keep it together untill you see a familar face and then just drop your bundle. it's hard to describe to someone what a 'low' feels like if they haven't experienced depression themselves or seen someone else close to them deal with it.

a 'low' can come out of nowhere, it might be something small that triggers it off or it might be a string of shitty events that eventually wear you down. when the low strikes, it engulfs you; every part of your body feels heavy and wretched and dark. it might sound melodramatic, but you begin to question your worth and the point of living. on a low you're a walking contradiction. you hate what you like and like what you hate. it's crazy, but you can't help it when your brain is so jumbled. despite knowing that many people care for you, you feel alone and isolated. it becomes a vicious cycle, the feelings of isolation feed the depression and the depression keeps you isolated. you look to certain people to try and make you feel better, to provide you with some comfort or sorts, and when they disappoint, which is usually the case, you become angry and resentful. but the truth is, they can't save you and it's not their responsibility to do so. no one can save you from the demons in your own mind.

it's sad to say but the depression controls me, i don't control it. sometimes i manage to gain hold of the reins, not for long though as the depression is much stronger than i am. i really, really don't want to be forced to go on meds again. i just don't know what to do. i hate this.

fat.

really been struggling lately and it's getting me down. if only i had more will power to stop myself from eating. whenever i go out in public i find myself analyzing other girl's bodies; their thighs, their stomachs, their arms and ass. whenever i walk past a shop window or mirror and see a reflection of myself i feel like crying. this is fucked.

on another note, T came around last night. i'm glad he's back, i can't handle the rejection and i think he's the only one that can tolerate me and my stupid issues.

the apple never falls far from the tree.

i was a really anxious child, i would worry about anything and everything. i was also an only child for a long time, i didn't have brothers or sisters to share the ups and downs of my upbringing with. my dad was a registered nurse, he was also a chronic pill popper. when i would get really worked up he'd slip me some valium to calm me down. i'm not saying he was a bad father, i idolized this man, but from a young age i learned that a substance could always be used to cover up an emotion.

before he got brain damage, he had bipolar all his life. i'm not sure why, but since the brain injury he is no longer depressed, perhaps it's because he is now like a three year old or perhaps it's because he has no memory. i was basically raised by my mother and nonna. dad was around, but usually too depressed to get out of bed most days. when he was on a high it was great. he was fun and spontaneous, he would take me to the local toy shop and shower me with presents, spoil me rotton. in these moods, he was extreme..as a child being in his presence felt like an adventure, you never quite knew what was going to happen next. for some reason my mum and him would always have ridiculous arguments though. i would lay in bed at night yearing for them to stop, covering my ears to block out the noise. later i learned that his excessive behaviour put us in an awful amount of debt. as a result my parents' relationship was always on and off.

unfortunately (or fortunately, i'm not quite sure) these manic episodes were fleeting. depression ruled my father most of the time. from four until fourteen i would sit at his bedside, talking for hours as he chain smoked in bed. he didn't treat me like a child or his daughter, he treated me like his equal, like a best friend even. he confided in me; his hopes, fears, disappointments, successes, everything. i would listen intently, hanging off of every word he spoke. i remember thinking that this man was the most interesting, deep and intelligent individual to exist. frequently he would get so down he was on the verge of suicide, he would tell me this too..that he couldn't go on anymore. i would cry my little eyes out and plead with him not to do anything hasty. i was too afraid to leave the house when he was like this, too scared to even go to school. my parents' relationship was very strained so i felt like i was responsible for him and needed to protect him. i tried to be around him as much as possible in the hope that he would stay alive, for my sake at least. i remember visiting the psychiatric clinic he was admitted to on a regular basis. i liked it there. it was a big building next to the torrens river. there were so many perculiar people there, lazing around, smoking, making a scene..it fascinated me.

in 2002 his mother (my grandmother) committed suicide. like me and him, dad and her were very close. dad was also the person to find her dead in her home. she had chased a packet of anti depressants with a bottle of wine. i will never forget this period of time, because if dad wasn't a mental case before this incident, he sure did lose his shit afterwards. he became psychotic and started hallucinating, hearing voices and all that jazz. back then my mum and i didn't get along well. she was always spoiling the fun and yelling at dad. now i know she was just trying to shelter me from the circus our life had become. i feel sorry for her because being married to my dad has been one hell of a rollercoaster, and now after everything, she is his full time carer and barely has a life herself.

i don't blame my dad for anything. i always have, and always will look up to him, despite some of the things he introduced me to and the depression he has passed onto me. he can't remember anything from the past now, but i can and it affects me daily. i have grown up with depression, drugs and death, it is as normal to me as breathing. i realise this is fucked up, but hey, shit happens, right?

seriously.

today i'm meant to be applying for jobs. instead it's 1:02pm and i'm still laying in bed. motivation is non existent. i've been craving alcohol for the last 24 hours, so if i do get my shit together it will be purely to head on down to the bottle-o. job hunting can wait for another day.

fml.

frustration.

at the moment i feel like burning my myer store to the ground. i haven't had a shift for two weeks, i can't afford to pay my rent and finding it near impossible to get a second/ another job..or even a mere interview for that matter! if anyone knows of anything going in adelaide, pleeease let me know. i've had nearly seven years retail experience, present myself well and despite sounding like i've escaped from a looney bin on this blog, i am good at keeping my shit together while at work.

hmm.

this morning i had my first appointment with my new psychologist. i'm not a morning person at the best of times so was twenty minutes late for my 9am session..this is how it went.

dr encel: so what brings you to me, r?

me: i'm depressed..and i don't even know why anymore.

dr encel: i see. how long have you been depressed for?

me: for as long as i can remember.

dr encel: hmm..what do you want me to help you achieve?

me: i want to feel alive again.

dr encel: self-destructive behaviour?

me: yes.

dr encel: such as?

me: binge drinking, cutting, reckless spending, restricting food.

dr encel: drug use?

me: sometimes.

dr encel: have you experienced any significant trauma in the past?

me: yes, my entire childhood was traumatic.

...

dr encel: how do you feel right now?

me: i feel like my body is here, but i don't exist.

so here it goes again, rattling off my problems to some stranger in the hope that he can reach some sort of conclusion about why i feel the way i do and maybe even 'fix' me. i'm not holding my breathe, but at least he was nice, i'll give him that.

the depths of insanity.

going insane doesn't happen overnight, it's a gradual process.

from the outside you appear okay. people know you get down sometimes, but you carry on. as time passes you begin to question, 'is this a life, or am i just living?' eating, sleeping, breathing...going through the motions in order to continue existing.

slowly you start feeling yourself slipping away from reality..from those you love, from the things you once enjoyed, from your hopes and dreams. isolation is your best friend. the hopelessness is crushing, yet strangely comforting. it's what you have grown to know...it's all you know.

as you become weaker, the demon's grip becomes tighter. you have no will power left to fight it or strength to put on a brave face anymore. the poison circulates through your body and soaks into every organ. you become saturated in wretchedness. it's heavy and overwhelming.

plunging into insanity is like darkness closing in on you day by day, month by month, year by year. it's like being trapped in a room drained of oxygen. it's like being thrown into the middle of the ocean with weights connected to your wrists and ankles. it's like screaming at the top of your lungs in a public place and no one noticing, it's like the world around you is crumbling...it's like every dark moment in life amplified.

...and it's the last place you ever want to be.

hunger strike.

if food wasn't essential for survival, i would be happy never to eat again.

this weight thing has been playing on my mind a lot..to the point where i'm conscious of everything i swallow. i stare at myself in the mirror on a daily basis and see the deposits of fat that have formed around my hips, stomach and thighs, and it kills me. since i was fifteen or so i've always been a bit weight obsessed. i've never had a full blown eating disorder or anything, but there have been periods over the years where i've severely restricted my food intake in order to remain a certain size or number on the scales..when everything around you is chaos, it's comforting knowing you have control over at least one aspect in your life. i long to see my collar bones protruding again and a significant gap between my thighs. maybe, just maybe if i were thinner he would have stayed..maybe he wouldn't have left me for that skinny bitch.

lost cause.

my throat is killing me from my stomach being pumped on saturday night and i'm feeling pretty down and dejected overall. according to my friend i'm "beyond help"..nice, but realistically she's probably right. she contacted my mum and told her i attempted to overdose which is definitely not true. it was nothing short of an accident. so now my mum is losing her shit thinking i'm suicidal again. she worries like crazy because i'm alone in the city which i suppose is understandable.

i wish so badly to be just 'normal'.

a beautiful mess.

last night i ended up being rushed to hospital in an ambulance and put on a drip. vodka + anti depressants + an empty stomach don't mix well, apparently. why do i feel the need to be so self-destructive?

this photo was taken during the better half of the night...hai kitty.