My first week back from France is intense to say the least. The work created from the conference is so full on I feel like it has taken over my life. I'm getting up really early, doing extremely long days, doing work and e-mails at home, and seem to be so consumed with the preparation everything else has gone out of the window. I have tunnel vision and excess energy. On the flip side of this mental health coin, my depression is pulling me down very quickly. I am emotionally fatigued, over sensitive, tearful and short of breath most of the time. I'm having terrible nightmares and my sleep is rubbish.
The week leading up to the conference, my boss and I deliver a workshop to a select group of people ranging from regional police officers and local councillors to front line staff and senior managers. It goes well and both of us are pleased with the result. Walking back from the venue, I get a telephone call which begins with, "Try not to worry but..." and my stomach lurches and I feel sick, and start to cry when they tell me my eldest son has come off the slide at nursery and has broken his arm. Immediately I feel terrible, as normally I would have picked him up and hour ago, and the only reason I am late is because of the workshop. Its my fault. Trying not to panic and focusing on what the nursery manager is saying, I attempt to quell the panic and figure out what to do.The manager has called an ambulance and they are on their way. I am already in the City where the A+E hospital is, so staff from the nursery will come in the ambulance and a car following, and we will all meet at childrens A+E.
When they arrive the nursery staff have been crying and everyone is traumatised by what has happend. My husband also arrives and is the epitome of wrath. He wants someones head on a plate. I have to remind him that our son is the one that needs attention and going on a rampage at this point in time is not a good idea. My darling son now has a right arm that looks like a banana and he is visibly in pain and terribly upset. When I reach to take him, the nursery lady finds it hard to let him go. We all want to hold him.
We go to our little cubicle and my husband hopes its not a break, but that's just wishful thinking. All I can hear in my head is, "You should have been there, you should have picked him up earlier, if you had of done this he would be ok." I try hard not to imagine how frightened my son must have been and in how much pain. We get an x-ray and he's broken both bones in his right arm, up high on the forearm toward the elbow. It is a nasty break, and he's going to be in overnight and in surgery in the morning. I'm trying so hard not to sob the whole time and it feels uncontrollable.
On the morning of the operation a lovley lady tries to explain what is going to happen in theatre, but as the time draws near, complete panic sets in and we have to drag our son to the aneasthetic room. He is kicking and screaming, pleading for us to help him. My husband has to go through to the aneasthetic area alone as two adults aren't allowed in, and I can hear the continuous pleas from outside. Its harrowing for all of us. When it does finally go quiet my husband comes out in floods of tears.
I do a Low self esteem reaction to the situation, and tell my husband that I should give up work and never let the kids leave the house again without me. I can't get it out of my head that its my fault and it's crippling. When my son does come out from theatre, he has a lovely smile on his face and a lovley plaster cast to match. Our relief is palpable. We have to bring him back to fracture clinic on the Wednesday to see how its setting. Immediately my husband and I flinch as he has all day meetings and I have the conference. Its on days like these you realise you really can't have it all, no matter how hard you try. We decide to do a split visit. Hubby will pick up son and meet me at the clinic. We'll both stay for the appointment and I'll take our son back to pre-school. This means leaving my own conference for 2 hours. Its not ideal but its less important than my son. My stress level is through the roof, my anxiety is ridiculous and my sleep is active nightmares all night long. I'm buring out and I appear to have lost control of my internal steering wheel. I'm begining to feel quite frightend.
Monday, 8 March 2010
Saturday, 6 March 2010
France part 2 - Adjusting to holiday living
The first 5 days are really hot and fraught with shopping trips and trying to sort the silly car out. Thankfully my husband has a french work colleague who does some phoning around for us and gets our car booked into a garage. What I often forget is that when I spend a reasonably long time with a group of people, I have to get used to being around them. Its an emotional form of exposure therapy. Family dynamics can be difficult to interpret, whether it's passive body language, or outright war. Some people just shout at each other a lot and for them that's normal. For me that would be quite scary and I'd probably want to hide. To paraphrase, what this means is that for the first 5 days I feel absolutely terrible in my mind. Thankfully, I have my mobile phone and can text people about the carnage in my head, get some perspective and survive. It's hideous when you realise that everyone else seems fine and you want to throw yourself under the nearest croissant making machine.
When the madness in my head slows down I begin to relax and get into the groove. My extended family are happy, clean, food centred and terribly indecisive. They'll laugh when reading this as their faffing drives me to distraction and I'm always telling them to get a bloody move on before we all die of frustration or starvation! Going to the supermarket can be a trial. My mother-in-law dawdles and loves all of the food, cooking pots and produce shelves. I just want to grab it and go. I'm damn impatient really and am a shopping spoil sport.
We barbecue, splash about in the pool, bath the kids in the laundry sink and play cards at night. Granddad tries to teach the kids cricket, but my youngest keeps running off with the ball which makes it nigh on impossible. We share the preparation of meals out, with one family doing lunch, and the other doing BBQ. It all works well and washing up is done on a natural rota where noone is requested to do it, it all just happens together. I feels good.
After about 5 days, the heavens open and it rains and rains and rains! We still go out places and have fun, but its difficult when you only have a caravan to come back too. It's at this point I start to feel a little bit of cabin fever, and depression wise, I feel erratic. My mood is all over the place and I'm certain that it can only be bad news. The amount of people that said to me before I came on holiday, "You'll feel much better after a break". Those people obviously have no children and a serious mental health condition. Holidays with family for me are not a break. Going on my own to Majorca for a week on holiday would be a proper break, and no that isn't going to happen in the near future. I think my husband would divorce me if I left him on his own for a week with our two kids.
The rain abates and the last few days are sunny, peaceful and good fun. We have a "Twilight zone" moment down by the sea front the day before we come home. We meet some people who, it turns out, live in the house that my mother-in-law was born in in England. It was very queer to say the least. We wistfully pack up our gear and make it to the ferry with no breakdowns (Well, not of the car variety at least) and when we come up on deck and sight land, we all feel slightly reflective but pleased to be back.
Depression is a nasty creature as it infects what ought to be good and honest with cynicism and fear. A 2 week holiday, spent in a peacceful part of France with loving family, should be a happy and joyful time. I did have a good time, but my constant companion tries to drag it back to gloom the whole time. It fills you with guilt, as really, you have no reason to be terribly miserable. Depression is a thief. Its a distraction burglar that tears you're eye away from the sunshine and when you look back to see it, you missed it. It's a life of "if only's" and my biggest fear is soon to be realised. I'm on the greasy hill down into madness.
When the madness in my head slows down I begin to relax and get into the groove. My extended family are happy, clean, food centred and terribly indecisive. They'll laugh when reading this as their faffing drives me to distraction and I'm always telling them to get a bloody move on before we all die of frustration or starvation! Going to the supermarket can be a trial. My mother-in-law dawdles and loves all of the food, cooking pots and produce shelves. I just want to grab it and go. I'm damn impatient really and am a shopping spoil sport.
We barbecue, splash about in the pool, bath the kids in the laundry sink and play cards at night. Granddad tries to teach the kids cricket, but my youngest keeps running off with the ball which makes it nigh on impossible. We share the preparation of meals out, with one family doing lunch, and the other doing BBQ. It all works well and washing up is done on a natural rota where noone is requested to do it, it all just happens together. I feels good.
After about 5 days, the heavens open and it rains and rains and rains! We still go out places and have fun, but its difficult when you only have a caravan to come back too. It's at this point I start to feel a little bit of cabin fever, and depression wise, I feel erratic. My mood is all over the place and I'm certain that it can only be bad news. The amount of people that said to me before I came on holiday, "You'll feel much better after a break". Those people obviously have no children and a serious mental health condition. Holidays with family for me are not a break. Going on my own to Majorca for a week on holiday would be a proper break, and no that isn't going to happen in the near future. I think my husband would divorce me if I left him on his own for a week with our two kids.
The rain abates and the last few days are sunny, peaceful and good fun. We have a "Twilight zone" moment down by the sea front the day before we come home. We meet some people who, it turns out, live in the house that my mother-in-law was born in in England. It was very queer to say the least. We wistfully pack up our gear and make it to the ferry with no breakdowns (Well, not of the car variety at least) and when we come up on deck and sight land, we all feel slightly reflective but pleased to be back.
Depression is a nasty creature as it infects what ought to be good and honest with cynicism and fear. A 2 week holiday, spent in a peacceful part of France with loving family, should be a happy and joyful time. I did have a good time, but my constant companion tries to drag it back to gloom the whole time. It fills you with guilt, as really, you have no reason to be terribly miserable. Depression is a thief. Its a distraction burglar that tears you're eye away from the sunshine and when you look back to see it, you missed it. It's a life of "if only's" and my biggest fear is soon to be realised. I'm on the greasy hill down into madness.
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
France part 1
Considering I travel badly, going on a holiday that involves extensive driving and a ferry ride fills me with a sense of trepidation. I have no idea why I agreed to this vacation but everyone else seems ok with it. I'll just have to take motion sickness tablets and abandon parenting for a considerable amount of the journey.We are going as a large family group with 3 cars in convoy. There will be 6 adults and 3 children on a holiday for 2 weeks. We are being joined by my husbands parents, his sister and her husband and their 7 month old son. Between us we'll have two large caravans on a small site with a shop, swimming pool, children's play area and a 20 minute walk to the beach. Sounds Idyllic. As we board the ferry all I can think of is the scene in titanic where the Irish woman is sitting on her bed reading a story to her 2 very small children, knowing any second she is about to drown in freezing cold water. I am definitely nervous and try to talk myself around and not infect everyone else with my projection of a catastrophe. Its like that film "Final destination" trying to cheat death. I need to get a grip quite frankly.
Finally we all gather on deck to wave goodbye to blighty and then everyone decides it's time to eat. I try hard not to gag and think of burning vomit coming out of my throat. I'm not enjoying myself yet. Everybody keeps banging on about brioche and crepes, and all I want to do is pass out and hopefully either wake up when we're there, or, die of drowning in my sleep so I never know of the catastrophe I've been so dreading. I look like a grey, ashen faced rabbit in head lights against everyone else's glowing excitement. Saying that though, my gorgeous sister-in-law is struggling with her baby who has decided he no longer needs sleep and is playing up a treat. First holidays with children are a traumatic affair. Its like normal parenting nightmares in a different country and climate. Its not a holiday - its hell on earth.
In the morning I wake up, obviously not dead, and gratefully make it up to the cafe to eat pastry. The kids are very excited and when we finally depart from the belly of the beast, we all trundle along nicely following our pre-prepared map to our destination. 20km from the site, our car packs up. Totally dead. Something has gone wrong with the wiring and the whole thing is locked. No power, no nothing. As we are in convoy, we deploy children to other cars and wait for international rescue. I try to reframe the situation into a positive theme, like, "Oh, 30 minutes of free time in the sunshine." Before international rescue arrive we are visited by an old French man shouting and urinating on the hard shoulder, then a English speaking French man offering help, and then the Gendarme. They try and move the car but can't, and then to my relief the tow truck turns up. They literally drag our car off the road and deliver us to a very shoddy garage with a fat lady and a smelly dog. However, things turn out well. We leave our car there, get a hire car and arrive 3 hours later than planned to our new caravan home.
The next 24 hours will be a test of my serenity and CBT techniques. I'd forgotten that change, stress and dealing with other people can send me a bit doo-lally! It isn't their fault, I'm just wired up like our car.
Finally we all gather on deck to wave goodbye to blighty and then everyone decides it's time to eat. I try hard not to gag and think of burning vomit coming out of my throat. I'm not enjoying myself yet. Everybody keeps banging on about brioche and crepes, and all I want to do is pass out and hopefully either wake up when we're there, or, die of drowning in my sleep so I never know of the catastrophe I've been so dreading. I look like a grey, ashen faced rabbit in head lights against everyone else's glowing excitement. Saying that though, my gorgeous sister-in-law is struggling with her baby who has decided he no longer needs sleep and is playing up a treat. First holidays with children are a traumatic affair. Its like normal parenting nightmares in a different country and climate. Its not a holiday - its hell on earth.
In the morning I wake up, obviously not dead, and gratefully make it up to the cafe to eat pastry. The kids are very excited and when we finally depart from the belly of the beast, we all trundle along nicely following our pre-prepared map to our destination. 20km from the site, our car packs up. Totally dead. Something has gone wrong with the wiring and the whole thing is locked. No power, no nothing. As we are in convoy, we deploy children to other cars and wait for international rescue. I try to reframe the situation into a positive theme, like, "Oh, 30 minutes of free time in the sunshine." Before international rescue arrive we are visited by an old French man shouting and urinating on the hard shoulder, then a English speaking French man offering help, and then the Gendarme. They try and move the car but can't, and then to my relief the tow truck turns up. They literally drag our car off the road and deliver us to a very shoddy garage with a fat lady and a smelly dog. However, things turn out well. We leave our car there, get a hire car and arrive 3 hours later than planned to our new caravan home.
The next 24 hours will be a test of my serenity and CBT techniques. I'd forgotten that change, stress and dealing with other people can send me a bit doo-lally! It isn't their fault, I'm just wired up like our car.
Monday, 1 March 2010
Feeling dodgy on the way to La-la land
Imagine you are juggling 3 balls comfortably, but then someone throws in an extra ball. It throws you off your step, but you manage to keep a hold. But then another ball gets thrown at you and you start to drop balls all over the place. This is what its like building up to a manic episode. Your tummy feels fluttery a lot of the time and you have a bubbling stream of weird excitement jogging along with you. You know its there but its like a lid is pushing down on it, and for now at least, it gently propels me along at a pace I can just about manage. I have a curious sensation of being attached by a wire to the body that is separating out in front of me. The body in front is the one that is rushy, taking at 100mph, taking on far too much work and generally being a bit loopy. The trailing body is the one that watches on in despair as it predicts the hideous crash that will inevitably happen, but feels completely powerless to intervene. The thread of connection becomes more stretched and tenuous the more I speed up.
I remember seeing my psychiatrist at the begining of May and telling him I didn't feel quite right. It was definately the odd before the storm. That little orange nylon covered chair that pushes up next to his desk is a comforting safe place. I wasn't keen on leaving after our 20 minutes, but he said, "If you have any problems before your next appointment, just telephone." Famous last words.
So during May things start to pile up. I'm trying to organise a conference for approx. 100 people, using a whole new approach (the whole systems approach) and I keep having to have extra meetings with a woman we all fondly begin to call chlamydia because we can't pronounce her name correctly. People are going off sick too, or, being redirected to other work instead of helping me. I am under lots of scrutiny from up the 3 line whip and everything is feeling a little bit unmanageable. The stress also increases as I have 2 weeks holiday booked, which will parachute me back into the chaos 2 weeks before the conference actually happens. Oh yeah, and I'm meant to be doing a workshop for 25 people with my boss as well as attending meetings and mediating between the variety of tossers who think being a strategy manager is an easy job and involves doing nothing. I ask for extra help or for someone to keep an eye on my e-mails etc. in my absence. Every ones looks at me as though I just popped a shit biscuit in my mouth. I'm on my own.
I remember seeing my psychiatrist at the begining of May and telling him I didn't feel quite right. It was definately the odd before the storm. That little orange nylon covered chair that pushes up next to his desk is a comforting safe place. I wasn't keen on leaving after our 20 minutes, but he said, "If you have any problems before your next appointment, just telephone." Famous last words.
So during May things start to pile up. I'm trying to organise a conference for approx. 100 people, using a whole new approach (the whole systems approach) and I keep having to have extra meetings with a woman we all fondly begin to call chlamydia because we can't pronounce her name correctly. People are going off sick too, or, being redirected to other work instead of helping me. I am under lots of scrutiny from up the 3 line whip and everything is feeling a little bit unmanageable. The stress also increases as I have 2 weeks holiday booked, which will parachute me back into the chaos 2 weeks before the conference actually happens. Oh yeah, and I'm meant to be doing a workshop for 25 people with my boss as well as attending meetings and mediating between the variety of tossers who think being a strategy manager is an easy job and involves doing nothing. I ask for extra help or for someone to keep an eye on my e-mails etc. in my absence. Every ones looks at me as though I just popped a shit biscuit in my mouth. I'm on my own.
Monday, 22 February 2010
Lets discuss the business of being busy
Now you may well be wondering why I haven't written so much about the actual bi-polar diagnosis yet, or even got to the point of diagnosis? Its for a reason. A diagnosis can be made on say, 2 episodes of mania in 2 years, or a few short bouts over an extended period of time. So it can actually take a while to capture a patient in a full blown episode and ensure that it is definitely mania and not just an over excited and gregarious disposition. Also mania doesn't always last that long, and some people actually love the feeling and choose to not take medication, advice or action. They stay in it and wait for it to pass. For most of us the hardest thing to cope with is the crippling depression. Saying this though, if you ask any of my friends or family, they will tell you that I am a high speed, energetic person, prone to days running around like the Duracell bunny.
From my initial referral interview with my CPN up until the end of my self esteem CBT course, I have regularly discussed my "rushy" episodes, when they happen and what happens. I kept a diary for a while and they were unpredictable, but significant enough to warrant attention. When my CPN and I first talked to the psychiatrist Darren about it, he dismissed it out of hand. He felt that it was probably a side effect of the high dose anti depressant or taking too many stimulants. In my case that means only coffee. I knocked booze and party drugs on the head a very long time ago. As I mentioned, the run in to my initial contact with psychiatric services involved me being 100mph in the head and verging on suicidal. Sadly the professionals didn't see me like this, all I could do was explain it after the event when I slowed down a bit. I talked to my new psychiatrist about it and he felt that it did need further scrutiny to see if there is a difference between my general upbeat, rather too bouncy and annoying self, versus something even more fast paced and detrimental to my well being. I'm not keen on the waiting game and to be honest, even though I am "well" I don't feel quite right.
So here is how the land lies. I'm doing CBT self esteem course, I am up to 3 days a week in the office, one day at home, taking my anti depressant medication and seeing my psychiatrist every 6 months. It seems ok but then things start to get a little stressful. As I said, something just didn't feel right and during the May things started to go a bit wrong.
From my initial referral interview with my CPN up until the end of my self esteem CBT course, I have regularly discussed my "rushy" episodes, when they happen and what happens. I kept a diary for a while and they were unpredictable, but significant enough to warrant attention. When my CPN and I first talked to the psychiatrist Darren about it, he dismissed it out of hand. He felt that it was probably a side effect of the high dose anti depressant or taking too many stimulants. In my case that means only coffee. I knocked booze and party drugs on the head a very long time ago. As I mentioned, the run in to my initial contact with psychiatric services involved me being 100mph in the head and verging on suicidal. Sadly the professionals didn't see me like this, all I could do was explain it after the event when I slowed down a bit. I talked to my new psychiatrist about it and he felt that it did need further scrutiny to see if there is a difference between my general upbeat, rather too bouncy and annoying self, versus something even more fast paced and detrimental to my well being. I'm not keen on the waiting game and to be honest, even though I am "well" I don't feel quite right.
So here is how the land lies. I'm doing CBT self esteem course, I am up to 3 days a week in the office, one day at home, taking my anti depressant medication and seeing my psychiatrist every 6 months. It seems ok but then things start to get a little stressful. As I said, something just didn't feel right and during the May things started to go a bit wrong.
Sunday, 21 February 2010
Thinking bias, mood contamination and my dodgy internal barometre
So, I've been talking about my inner beliefs about myself, and as well as these low self esteem thoughts I get additional body states, behaviours and emotions that go with it. You know like emotional fatigue, headaches, over eating; perfectionism, people pleasing; fearfulness and anxiety, hopelessness, depression. Low self esteem is not a pleasant state of being. I'm already at war with the depression and it appears that I also sabotage my life by wrong thinking. This is what I mean by thinking bias. My mind has made up its own little rule book of how to interpret information and eradicate low self esteem.Unfortunately, my mind has actually got it all wrong, and what its really doing is keeping me enslaved to the folly that is my bottom line thought - you know the "I am no good" thought. This is only one of a series of bottom lines that I have - I have a low self esteem broad sheet newspaper going on in my head as well as me being its biggest critic! Its very noisy up there in my grey matter.Maybe I am a twin stuck in one body, and the child that is trapped is resentful and won't shut up!
Here are a few thought biases/wrong thoughts that i have:
At this juncture, I will not go into a blistering tirade about a crap childhood, trauma or or self inflicted horrors but what I will say is that my low self esteem has been around for a very long time. The more I explore my behaviour I begin to accept that I need to unpick the massive rug of protection measures I've been stitching together, unravel the wool, and make it into a snug cardigan that keeps me warm and held. I must start to focus on my strengths and not my weakness. I've been looking down the wrong end of the telescope and I really need a reality check. God bless me - it's at times like this I wonder how many other people are walking around with this type of dialogue going on in their head.We are all our own little universes, bobbing around and knocking into each other, and we never truly understand one another. It's rare to meet other brutally honest people who will actually tell you the truth. Many a time when someone has asked me how I feel and reply, "Shit actually", they look at me aghast or fall about laughing. Honesty is very underrated you know, and sometimes I'm sure people think you are saying it just to raise a laugh. Many people can't tell these days if I'm being honest or funny. Openness, directness and frankness are more akin to presents for Jesus than traits of character I swear.
I suggest you go out and try it one night. Go on - Do a CBT experiment I dare you. Be blunt but not vicious.I assure you, it will be a very interesting experiment. People will think you've had some kind of mental episode, which is the paradox really isn't it. Normally we'd be all submissive and polite or lie, which is actually dishonest. Lets hope you're friends are understanding though. They might just think you've lost it. Welcome to my world.
Here are a few thought biases/wrong thoughts that i have:
- I get given 99 positive comments and 1 bad - I only hear the bad (Filtering)
- If I am not good at badminton it means I am bad at everything (Labelling)
- I missed a payment on my credit card; this means we'll get bad credit, lose all credit options, we won't get a new mortgage, my husband will be mad so we'll end up divorced (Catastrophic thinking)
- My friend cancels lunch, which in my head means she doesn't like me I must have done something wrong (personalization and blaming of self)
At this juncture, I will not go into a blistering tirade about a crap childhood, trauma or or self inflicted horrors but what I will say is that my low self esteem has been around for a very long time. The more I explore my behaviour I begin to accept that I need to unpick the massive rug of protection measures I've been stitching together, unravel the wool, and make it into a snug cardigan that keeps me warm and held. I must start to focus on my strengths and not my weakness. I've been looking down the wrong end of the telescope and I really need a reality check. God bless me - it's at times like this I wonder how many other people are walking around with this type of dialogue going on in their head.We are all our own little universes, bobbing around and knocking into each other, and we never truly understand one another. It's rare to meet other brutally honest people who will actually tell you the truth. Many a time when someone has asked me how I feel and reply, "Shit actually", they look at me aghast or fall about laughing. Honesty is very underrated you know, and sometimes I'm sure people think you are saying it just to raise a laugh. Many people can't tell these days if I'm being honest or funny. Openness, directness and frankness are more akin to presents for Jesus than traits of character I swear.
I suggest you go out and try it one night. Go on - Do a CBT experiment I dare you. Be blunt but not vicious.I assure you, it will be a very interesting experiment. People will think you've had some kind of mental episode, which is the paradox really isn't it. Normally we'd be all submissive and polite or lie, which is actually dishonest. Lets hope you're friends are understanding though. They might just think you've lost it. Welcome to my world.
Saturday, 20 February 2010
Keeping a lid on it
If I stand still for just a minute and take stock of my situation, I am baffled as to how I keep it together sometimes. I don't know whether its because I am stubborn, courageous or just plain stupid, but I keep plugging away even when an episode of doom lurks over the horizon. I have a vision in my head, and it doesn't include not being able to work, going to hospital, needing additional help to look after myself or abandoning my current life as I know it. This may well be misjudged or unrealistic but it is how I am currently managing my life.
I think I see my illness as the enemy. If you make friends with it you keep it close and always have one eye on it. Its a constant power struggle, where I perpetually realign myself with what comes on any particular day. I have to give myself little milestones as markers to see if I am on top of the game. The hardest thing I think, is trying not to state out loud the whole time, "I am finding everything difficult. Please give me 5 minutes to chill out and catch up." The irony in this is when I am hyper manic, I feel like shouting, "Catch up for goodness sake! You're all going to slow". Balance and mundanity are not something I am familiar with.
So my day goes a little bit like this:
Now this is my day in a very basic format, but what I am trying to show is that I have to work throughout the day to ensure I stay on top of my depression and symptoms. I also have to listen to my mind and body if things start to go off kilter. Now that is the really hard bit because most people have bad days, mood dips, react badly, make mistakes and get narked if someone tells them off. But at least I am living and not existing. I am not letting the beast drag me down. Oh yes, and actually I find out from my colleagues that the individuals I struggle with, the ones who are really horrid to be around, are actually resented and disliked by everyone else. Well thank god for that. I am not alone.
So where were we with the self esteem group?
I think I see my illness as the enemy. If you make friends with it you keep it close and always have one eye on it. Its a constant power struggle, where I perpetually realign myself with what comes on any particular day. I have to give myself little milestones as markers to see if I am on top of the game. The hardest thing I think, is trying not to state out loud the whole time, "I am finding everything difficult. Please give me 5 minutes to chill out and catch up." The irony in this is when I am hyper manic, I feel like shouting, "Catch up for goodness sake! You're all going to slow". Balance and mundanity are not something I am familiar with.
So my day goes a little bit like this:
- Get up and check mood - get out of bed regardless
- Eat breakfast and try not to become overwhelmed with toddler chaos
- Practice laughing at my intrusive thoughts whilst making breakfast and cups of coffee
- Deliver children to nursery whilst being assertive but loving
- Drive to work, ignoring internal dialogue which usually revolves around "I'm not good at my job, my boss regrets employing me, I must try harder" etc. Actively sing along to the radio to quiet mind noise
- Get into work and choose to be upbeat and engage with people, ignoring negativity and focusing on the positives
- Plan work around times when I am productive and energy levels are good
- Take a proper lunch break even though the office culture tends to promote a lunchless day and try really hard not to spend money compulsively on a load of rubbish whilst out and about
- Attend meetings and work really hard at externalising i.e: Count the windows, recite words from the page, actively listen if zoning out, disregard nasty high level managers attitude and practice taking reality snap shot (getting stuck in my head ruminating is not good for me)
- Have a caffeine break at 2-3 as my energy and mood dip at this time
- Finish off tasks if possible, but leave work if necessary (This is difficult as I am a conscientious worker and a perfectionist). Accept any constructive criticism and focus on accomplishments of the day
- Drive home without rerunning the whole day over and over again in my mind, and picking on the things I think I have done wrong
- Collect children and ensure positive praise and physical affection, even though I feel like curling up under my quilt for 3 hours first
- Arrive home and do some housework, including chemicals, knives, hot water and the like (More exposure therapy) and force myself to be loving and gentle because really I want to have a rant - my mood does not dictate my behaviour
- Put kids to bed, eat a meal and finally sit down
- Go to bed at my regular time, taking medication and respecting the sleep hygiene rules
Now this is my day in a very basic format, but what I am trying to show is that I have to work throughout the day to ensure I stay on top of my depression and symptoms. I also have to listen to my mind and body if things start to go off kilter. Now that is the really hard bit because most people have bad days, mood dips, react badly, make mistakes and get narked if someone tells them off. But at least I am living and not existing. I am not letting the beast drag me down. Oh yes, and actually I find out from my colleagues that the individuals I struggle with, the ones who are really horrid to be around, are actually resented and disliked by everyone else. Well thank god for that. I am not alone.
So where were we with the self esteem group?
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