Mental health and medication

Good afternoon Gang, I haven’t even posted my last blog, and I’m already writing my next one. I was super excited about my layover in Basel, but I’ll tell you, there isn’t much to do when the weather is pants, and it is soooo expensive. My tiny bagel with a coffee this morning cost me 20 pounds… so I’m being good and decided to write another blog entry whilst I’m stuck in a restaurant to take cover from the rain (they stop serving from 2-5 here… wtf).

I’m going to talk about antidepressants… a bit controversial, I know, but I really didn’t have a clue about them or what they do. When I was at my worst four months ago and couldn’t function at anything (unless I had a sleeping pill or Xanax), the doctor prescribed me Citalopram. I was holding onto these for so many days before starting them, I really had hope that the days would get better, and I tried hypnotherapy and meditation… (I don’t have the patience for hypnotherapy, but it does calm you at that moment). I just couldn’t see the light, and at this point, I felt I had nothing to lose, so I started taking them. Now anyone that’s been on them may know that you get worse before you get better. These days were dark; I remember my brother coming to see me, and it had been a while since I last saw him. His face when he saw me - he could not hide how shocked he was at how ill I looked and how much weight I had lost. I sat in the restaurant but wasn’t there; I couldn’t eat my pizza or contribute to any conversation. I could only focus on it if he asked me how bad I felt. (I had a lot to say on that).

Depression can be very selfish; you don’t mean to, but you can’t shift your focus away from anything other than how shit you feel; I even had moments where I didn’t feel like I was real and out of my own body. I couldn’t read the words in front of me, I couldn’t sleep, and I barely ate (I just ate a banana for the energy). It was honestly like a dark cloud/ fog was in my head - if it wasn’t in my head, it was in my chest; it would alternate between the 2, and I almost preferred the chest pain as I could still do something then. I was convinced that the operation had messed something up in my head, and I was no longer wired correctly.

In these early stages of medication, I felt like rock bottom. I went to bed early every night, and one night, my parents thought I had gone to bed, and I could hear them crying over me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt shitter than in that moment. Maybe the next day also when mum read out text messages she was getting and everyone saying how sorry they were for what she’s going through with her daughter. It hurt me so much that I was that person (I’m the life and soul … how did this happen). I think this gave me the drive to do anything in my power to get better.

I was also FaceTiming Simon regularly at this point, and I really tried to keep upbeat with him (my mum was like oh, you sounded good on the phone to him), but he could also see it on my face, and I could see how down it was making him. My dog Kelsey couldn’t even cheer me up (she even passed away a couple of months later - I truly believe she was there to make me better and hung on longer for me, she also deserves her own blog post, but I’m still too raw for that). It was truly a hellish time. After about two weeks, I woke up for the first time, not in a complete panic; this made me feel they were doing something.

I’m actually so glad that I’m open about things. I have a close friends story on Instagram that has a limited amount of people on it (apologies if you haven’t made the cut), but from there, two people - Rob and Nadia, reached out to me when I showed on there that I was struggling they offered to help me. I started having sessions with both of them, and it’s really helped me understand my new mind, refocus my thoughts and work towards goals. It also made me go deep down into myself and work towards what makes me happy. Everything I do now is what truly makes me happy, I’ve identified this, and I want to keep growing now. Any ideas for me are truly welcome.

I still have these sleeping pills - Zopiclone and Xanax- because they reassure me that if I go back into that place, I have a safety net and can sleep again. But I don’t use them (maybe once in a blue moon when I’m severely jet-lagged), but I’m coping without them now. (My god, they are the shit, though, if you ever have a mare, but it didn’t come from me)!

So many people since I’ve been honest about being on antidepressants have approached me, and you’d be surprised how many of us are on them. There is no shame in them at all, my doctor wanted me to go up to 20mg, but I’ve been determined to stay on 10mg, so if/ when I do come off them, it’ll be easier, but if I need to go higher, I will. But for now, I think they help stabilise me, and if they don’t, it’s a placebo anyway sometimes. My point is this… if you take them, please never be ashamed; sometimes we need a little help. If you’re thinking about taking them - be warned it gets worse before it gets better, but it is short term, and do what is right for you.

I’ve seen some very dark days, but it really really makes me appreciate the better ones. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to my family, Simon, my friends and especially Rob, Nadia and now Annabelle. (The more therapists, the better, I say). Please reach out if I can help or do anything for anyone struggling. Mental health is truly a real thing, and I think it’s hard for people who don’t experience it to understand. Just remind yourself that everything passes and gets better; we all need help sometimes.

xBx

P.S. Sorry for the soppy post… been reading too many soppy books - I will go back to my thrillers!