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. 

feeling festive.

so christmas finally rolled round yesterday- i hope everyone had an awesome day! my day was spent with my mum's side of the family and the boy. we did all the usual things- exchanged presents, ate, drank and soaked up the sun whilst catching up. my mum's side is italian which means there is never any shortage of amazing food at our family gatherings which is both a pro and a con. anyone struggling with weight issues would understand why...

the real highlight for me though was christmas eve. for many years it's been a tradition in my home town for most people around my age to venture to the local pub. it's always a really great night because, like me, many young people move away to the city once they hit eighteen or so to attend uni, establish their own lives etc but christmas is the one occasion where everyone returns to the country and reunites.

for most of the year i've been living in isolation. i hardly go anywhere or see anyone except my immediate family, B, a couple of close friends and my 'recovery team' (ie. psychiatrist, psychologist + hormone specialist). a few months ago you would have been hard pressed to get me in a semi-public place like a cafe let alone a pub, club or bar. i've spent most of the year not only severely depressed and anxious, but ridiculously self-conscious about my appearance due to my hormonal issues (and ectopic pregnancy) wreaking havoc with my hair, skin, weight etc. by some miracle (or perhaps sheer christmas spirit) i managed to muster up enough confidence to go out on christmas eve with one of my closest friends, T and some other girls i used to hang out with- and i'm glad i did! it was so lovely seeing old friends and being social again, and many people commented that it was great to see me out and looking a bit brighter which was kind of them.

i really can't believe 2012 is drawing to an end, however i couldn't be more enthused to see the back end of such a horrible year. 

on that note, i'll leave you with some recent festive photos. 

1. the 'modern' christmas tree i made out of branches for my parent's house (prior to presents being placed underneath). 

2. a few of the goodies i received- still loving the shit out of my wang may i add!

3.  a rare selfie. 

4. my christmas eve outfit (although i replaced the sportsgirl sandals with a pair of black sportsgirl wedges at the last minute). 

5. a little bit drunk and a little bit blurry with my babe, T. 

6. cute chrissy kisses from B. 

"you're looking well"

 

i haven't wrote aboout my eating disorder for a little while now, however that doesn't mean my issues surrounding my weight/ food have magically disappeared- unfortunately those ed voices inside my head still taunt me on a regular basis...sometimes they influence me more significantly than other times, but for the last couple of months i have mostly been successful at ignorning them...that is until yesterday when three little words sent me into a temporary frenzy.

 

i had an appointment with my psychiatrist whom i hadn't seen in four weeks. i like NP- he's a little more down to earth than some psychiatrists i've encountered and we get along well. earlier in the year when i spent a solid six months or more refusing to take medication due to overwhelming anxiety that i'd potentially gain weight NP was patient and understanding. every session we'd discuss the benefits of taking an anti-depressant versus the drawbacks and i'd leave agreeing to at least trial something. in the beginning there were a few meds that he urged me to try, however as time passed and i still refused to commit to anything he wasn't as concerned about what brand of SSRI/SNRI i was taking, more that i was actually taking something, anything for longer than a few days (yes i'm the first to admit i'm a difficult patient, but i really don't mean to be). every time i'd return to see him i'd confess that i either hadn't filled the prescription at all or my anxiety had got the better of me and i'd given up on the meds.

 

finally, after an enormous amount of reassurance i found the courage deep within to start taking the medication properly and have done so for the last ten weeks or so now. the weight issue has still played on my mind and i've been tempted to discontinue the treatment as i've done numerous times before but have stuck it out for the sake of my sanity and quality of life.

 

during my worst ed phases (which may last for only days or weeks on end) my scales are basically glued to the bottom of my feet. i weigh myself up to seven or eight times per day- first thing in the morning, after eating or drinking, after going to the toilet and last thing at night. i realise this is madness, but in some warped way constantly weighing myself  defuses my anxiety and provides me with a sense of control. i've been relieved to see that thus far the anti-depressants haven't negatively affected my weight. of course the number fluctuates 1-2kgs throughout the course of a month due to my hormones etc, and during the period of time i was pregnant i seemed to be quite bloated, but overall i still weigh the same as i did several months ago which has caused me to become increasingly lax with my daily weighing rituals. in fact, until yesterday i hadn't weighed myself in a fortnight or so which is some kind of record for me.

 

for anyone suffering from an ed, certain 'things' may trigger obsessive thoughts, self-loathing, destructive behaviour etc. for me one of these triggers is being told any variation of "you're looking well". now please understand that the logical rhiannon knows that receiving a comment of this nature is usually meant as a compliment not a criticism, however the ed rhiannon automatically associates looking well with weight gain. upon entering NP's consulting room yesterday, one of the first things he uttered was "you're looking well, rhiannon". perhaps it was the fact that i actually applied a full face of makeup when i usually attend psych appointments looking like death, or perhaps it was the light bronze shade i have turned from sitting out in the sun lately-i don't know, his comment could have been based on a number of observations, however, my mind immediately started to jump to conclusions that he must think my frame is starting to look fuller...healthy...fat.

over the course of an hour we discussed my progress and what my goals are for the coming year etc, but not my weight. i struggled to pay him my full attention because all i could think about was how much i was itching to get home and jump on those scales to ensure that i hadn't gained and his comment was based on something other than my figure.

 

sure enough the first thing i did once safely home was weigh myself. i stepped on those dreaded scales silently repeating to myself "please be light, please be light" but expecting to see the worst. to my surprise the dial read dead on 50kgs- i hadn't gained, thank god. relief washed over me and my mind was at ease once again. it's moments like these that emphasise to me just how much of a grip my ed has on me, despite at times fading into the background. it's crazy that a number on a set of scales can dictate my anxiety level, mood and self-esteem.

 

in other news, tomorrow i have to attend a family lunch for my nonno's 80th birthday. it's being held at a local restaurant and not only will my immediate family be there but extended family too. this will be the first time i've attended a family event since april- throughout winter i was too sick to go out and tried to avoid people at all costs. i'm quite nervous as i don't really want to engage in conversation about my current state with relatives i hardly see and i'm pretty ashamed that i'm not doing anything productive with myself right now. luckily B will be there with me for support and i can always count on my younger sister to calm my nerves with her sense of humour which is nothing short of hilarious.

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.



defeated.

 

i've caved and started anti-depressants (cymbalta 30mg to be exact).

i've fought fucking hard to avoid having to resort to this..

and my psychiatrist has fought equally as hard to try and medicate me.

i'm scared as absolute hell about potentially gaining weight,

and i feel so disappointed in myself that i've finally succumb to a chemical aid.
 i should be stronger than this. i know i'm stronger than this- but not at present.
i feel like a failure..but the truth is i cannot live like this anymore.

my quality of life has suffered so much over the past twelve months and it kills me seeing time slip away and my dreams being held on the backburner whilst i  continue existing in this warped reality inside my head.   

i have agreed to trial the SNRI for a month at minimum (i know that it takes this long for the meds to start taking effect) but have firmly stated that if for some reason my weight begins to escalate then i will promptly discontinue the treatment.

i know to most this rationale would seem pretty ridiculous, particularly if the cymbalta successfully stabilised my mood and decreased my anxiety, but unfortunately my issues surrounding my weight/ shape/ size are insanely controlling, and being a perfectionist by nature makes me a slave to this disordered thinking. i'm working with my psychologist to try and conquer my obsession with being rail thin and to establish some more healthy beliefs about my image and sense of self-worth, however this is a work in progress.

i'll let you know how i get on.



rays of sunshine.

i haven't been posting anywhere as near as often as i'd like to- truth is i'm still trying to get my stupid body sorted out so i'm very up and down at the moment. i resemble a person suffering from bipolar, even though i know my unstable emotions/mood is soely due to my fluctuating hormones and the accompanying treatment to get everything balanced.

my psychologist, psychiatrist and endocrinologist are all in agreement that my mental illness (not just recent, but for the past five years or more) is predominantly biological. i am so relieved that finally a logical explanation has been found to justify my abnormal mindset/ behaviour and why i haven't responded particularly well to therapy. my psychiatrist has described the depression i've been experiencing as melancholic which is a particularly severe subtype of major depression and a consequence of my hormonal imbalance, along with the generalized anxiety.

maybe once, sometimes twice a week i have a 'good' day (when all my hormones are playing nicely i suspect), and fuck it feels amazing. it feels like i'm seeing the world for the very first time- the colours are so vibrant, the sounds are so intense (no, i'm not blazed, nor am i high on xanax or valium). i feel uplifted, optimistic and at peace with myself. on these days i feel like the haze that i'm always forced to view the world through evaporates and everything is so damn extraordinary. i am simply grateful just to be alive, to be breathing, to feel the warm glow of the sun on my skin. i feel almost euphoric and for the duration of the 'good' day can't even believe that i toy with the idea of suicide on a regular basis. alas, these moods are fleeting, and as much as i try to hold onto these feelings as tighly as possible they soon slip away and again i am consumed by deep depression and anxiety.

i am learning not to be disappointed when my dark mood returns. i am also learning not to focus too much on trying to make the euphoric feeling linger for longer than it is willing to stay. i have decided that while i'm feeling 'good' i will simply enjoy it..embrace it..and be as productive as possible while i have some zest for life circulating through me. these windows of wellness are a taste of how much better i could feel indefinitely once i'm fully recovered and demonstrate to me that this long and exhausting battle is worth the fight.

i am excited to be well, and not just half-assed well, but truly well so i can be uninhibited from being the happy, confident, creative, ambitious, kind, affectionate person i know that i am at the core of my personality. i am excited to achieve my goals and pursue my dreams, to appreciate the small things, travel, reunite with old friends and meet new ones. i am excited to regain my independence, move back to my apartment, study, take up new hobbies, and last but certainly not least work again so i can cross off some of the items i haven't been able to afford recently on my evergrowing wishlist! (hello alexander wang, acne, marc by marc jacobs, wildfox..)

i'm only writing this post because i'm feeling relatively positive right now. tomorrow this could change, but i'm okay with that.

p.s you're probably bound to see more action out of me on instagram than on here at the moment. my username is rhiannon_skye (yes, that is also my real name- i've been reluctant to reveal it thus far, but eh). feel free to follow me!

climbing the walls.

feeling so low right now.

it's the start of the easter long weekend and i'm sitting at home alone in my city apartment trying to fight off chronic depression/ anxiety.

i need some love.

an ugly exterior.

something i really struggle with is being content with my appearance.
the majority of the time when i stare into the mirror i feel like bursting into tears for all i see is a flawed reflection gazing back at me.

it gets me pretty down seeing other girls around the place,
with their pretty faces, beautiful hair, perfect figures-
exuding confidence and natural beauty.

it probably sounds like i have a case of the green-eyed monster, however, i'm not envious..
i just wish i could feel more comfortable in my own skin.

is that too much to ask? 

black wave.

"i make my way out of the store, move purposefully back to my dorm room, tracing my footsteps along the cobblestone paths, running from the darkness. i get to the building i live in, fidget with the keys, scurry through the vestibule, hurry up a couple of flights of steps, keep putting the wrong key in the lock, finally get into the suite, finally run into bed, where i hide under the covers and pray that the black wave won't drown me. pray that if i lie here quietly it will pass. pray that if i get up in a little while and go to dinner at the union, that if i just go on with life as if this feeling were normal, the black wave will throw its tidal force at someone else. but when i unfurl myself from a fetal position and uncurl my way out of bed, there is still an ocean breaking inside my brain."

- elizabeth wurtzel (prozac nation)

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!

madness.

today is a shit day.

my muscles ache,

a dull constant pain.

my stomach feels nauseous,  

forcing vomit into my throat.

my breathing is rapid,

gasping for air.

my mind is a mess,

a tangled web of panic and fear 

my thoughts are racing,

they scare me.

my mood is dark,

consumed by desolation.

 

there is no where to hide from this monster within for it is my own creation.

today it is stronger than i am.

today it is taunting me.

today i'd really like to know..

 

when. the. fuck. will. this. end?

let's think positive.

recently the government of south australia developed the "let's think positive" campaign in an attempt to reduce negative stigma associated with mental illness. the campaign involves three advertisements showing different scenarios where discrimination may occur- in a person's work, social and family life. the aim of 'let's think positive' is to get people in the general community thinking about how their actions, attitudes and language may impact those suffering from a mental illness. i'm very glad to see the development of a campaign like this, knowing first hand how difficult it is dealing with (in my case) depression and anxiety with the added stress of being judged by ignorant individuals who really have no understanding or willingness to understand. the third ad addresses depression, however, at present i can really identify with the above two addressing anxiety/ panic.

i really hope people acknowledge the message these ads are trying to communicate.