Meet Glen…
Happy Monday, all; It turns out a few more people than my boyfriend, mum, and therapist read my blog. My mum didn't actually read it until I forced her! I hope you are all having a nice weekend wherever you are. The Sun is shining in England, but I have to go to work later, which is typical.
Anyway, today we will talk about my surgery and my new brain. (I say we because it is literally like we are two people inside my head now). Not long ago, I was speaking to my friend's boyfriend, who also suffered from mental health, and told him my new style of operating inside my head; he said whatever you do, don't give it a name like a Glen or anything… so that's exactly what I did. Meet Glen…
So maybe Glen has always been there, but I didn't notice him enough to name him. I also really dislike the name (sorry to the Glens - still better than Fajita). I had a rhinoplasty in January, and I must admit I was nervous beforehand. I quit alcohol for a month beforehand to try and put myself in the best condition - now anyone that properly knows me… that is a big deal for me. I don't recommend giving up alcohol, by the way; it made me miserable, and I didn't lose any weight (stress, however, is excellent for losing weight.. I'm still a stone down) and felt no healthier. Literally just avoided the hangovers - that was my only positive. Back to the rhinoplasty - I woke up after surgery a little later than usual; general anaesthesia and I are not friends. I was unaware of how hard the recovery would be; I couldn't sleep afterwards. My mind was so panicky about not being able to breathe from my nose. No one warns you about the dry mouth, and you are SO thirsty, but it means you go to the toilet every 5 mins. So which is the lesser evil, you have to ask yourself?! Honestly, give it a try - try just sleeping with your mouth wide open. I cannot do it! (I can see you with your mouth open now).
Basically, I didn't sleep for 7 days, and I'm not exaggerating like usual. My mum was looking after me in Dubai, and so often, I would try to sleep in her room as Simon had work, and there were times when I was screaming in frustration. Mum's words of advice were please keep your voice down. He's going to dump you (this didn't help Mum). We went to the doctors, and I was prescribed some more potent drugs… now, I have never touched drugs, but I can totally see how addictive they can be. These helped me get a few hours of sleep, but it was still only snippets for weeks.
After 6 weeks, I still wasn't recovering as I should, and I kept having days where I felt 'weird'. Finally, I got to the point where I couldn't watch tv or read a book(this was like the end of the world for me). I couldn't concentrate on anything other than googling my symptoms. Google is not your friend, people; it says you are always dying. I've learnt not to google your symptoms; I know you will anyway - we all do. So we might not be dying. That's all I'm saying. It was time to reach out to therapy and learn how Glen works. He is very bloody paranoid.
So to give you a bit of an example of what Glen does, he basically constantly says we aren't ok, sometimes he says that we are going crazy, occasionally he says we aren't real, and he calls us schizophrenic (to be fair that one is probably true right now). He is hyper-alert, gives me nightmares and doesn't let me rest often. There might be 10 positive things and 1 negative thing he hears, and he attaches to the negative .. he's a little devil. A wine helps, but I can't have more than 2 (3 on a special occasion, and by special occasion, I mean just not alone 😂); otherwise, the anxiety the next day is too much, plus that's not a solution. Glen is more annoying than a little mosquito that you can't find. I know that mostly what he is saying is absolute nonsense, but for now, he lives with me; hopefully, in time, he will at least move out of my bedroom in my brain. But for now, I must accept Glen, as he doesn't let me forget him.
I can function now, and from therapy, I have learnt tools to control him; I'm back to reading 2 books a week and even have moments where he completely goes - in those moments, I'm in total bliss. I took for granted how nice it was to have such a calm, easy breezy mind. So if you have one of those, please appreciate it and don't have surgery!
However, I will finish this blog positively because I'm really not in my comfort zone. It's made me think I might as well not do things in my comfort zone, and I've learnt a lot.
I went for Inflight Manager, and so many of the questions were psychology based that I wouldn't have answered as well before, and I got it.
I'm also learning to cook; ironically, my only dish was chicken fajitas, but I'm broadening my horizon and cooking other stuff.
I'm running half a marathon in the next few weeks to give something back to mental health.
I've started this blog and want to help others. So yeah, some things do happen for a reason.
Next time you let me know what you'd like to hear about - I'll give you an update on Glen and either a bit of an insight growing up as a footballer's daughter, or I'll tell you about all the surgery I've had done and why. I'll try to make it a little more lighthearted… see you then. I have to pack for Islamabad, and my room is a bloody mess. xBx
P.s. at least I quite like my new nose, can you imagine if I didn't! 👃