I initially thought about calling this, “Admitting defeat”. But I don’t think I am, I actually have had an epiphany.
It’s not that I can’t cope with life, because when the sh!t truly hits the fan, I manage well, as I just get on with doing what I need to do. Which is why this blog post is important for me to get out there today. I’ve been through some pretty hard times in my life; as has everyone, but when I’m struggling, I seem to find the smallest things insurmountable, which confuses me further, as I’ve been through a lot worse.
I’ve been in a right state the past couple of days. To the point I texted a friend ‘Help me’ and she did. She talked me down from a precipice, which lead me to what hit me last night in the wee hours.
I have a chemical imbalance, and so it can take me a great effort to put one foot in front of the other, day after day. The warning signs were showing for me last week with my rant. If I came across as ungrateful and pi$$y, well, I was a bit and I do apologise. I do feel better for venting, don’t get me wrong, but I also behaved out of context. As was when another couple of things happened, and I didn’t feel anything. I just felt numb. Then flew off the handle at something else.
My employer has an Employee Assist Program, EAP. Up to three sessions of psychological counselling that can be a spring board to further counselling arranged by your GP or just a prod in the right direction. Last week I booked a session for today, but in the meantime, I had this wobble, so yesterday I also booked a GPs appointment.
Nothing I’m saying here is to detriment Hubs, so please don’t think anything less of him when I write this. He does not like me taking anti-depressants. So for him, when I was feeling better I’ve weaned myself off them twice. For something pathetic (in the true sense of the word) and trivial to then send me into either maniacal cleaning, or catatonic apathy. Having Peanut forces me to either slow down, or move, but there are still days when it is all I can do to get out of bed. But I’ve had to go back to my GP to ask to be put back on them again, twice, because despite all my coping skills, despite all my reading, listening, practice – if I’m fighting against hormones, chemicals and all the other potions in my body, I’m stuffed.
I had a great conversation today with my GP. She reassured me that I wasn’t going mad, that I have been through worse, so please don’t worry. But she can refer me to all the counsellors in the world, if my chemicals are out of whack, counselling will take me so far, but not level me out. To function normally, not weep all over the place, not to jump to conclusions, not to think every little thing is my fault and not to put so much pressure on myself when I can’t meet the expectations I set myself.
So here I am, revving up to take Zoloft again tonight, to avoid the worst of the headaches that come along for the ride as a side-effect, by being asleep. It looks like I will be on it for the foreseeable future. She’s happy to talk with Hubs to explain why I will need to take them, if I can’t articulate it properly. I’m being reviewed in a couple of weeks, with another review by the psychologist I saw today around the same time too.
Like Ruby Wax, I’m wearing my illness on my shirtsleeve. I already wear my coeliac, IBS, penicillin allergy and wry sense of humour there, what’s wrong with another badge to join them?