Blog, Body Dysmorphia Disorder, OCD, Reflection, Uncategorized

A problem shared …

I saw my counsellor on Thursday night and spoke for an hour about my discovery of dermatillomania. We went into when it had began, how badly I suffer with the condition and how far my problem goes. It was a hard session.

Instead of getting the tube, I walked. Past the hustle and bustle of Oxford Street, through the tourists and traffic, through Green Park and past Buckingham Palace. Fourty five minutes stroll in the chill, instead of 4 minutes on the tube. It was lovely. Alone, quiet and peaceful.

My problem is severe and scarring is extensive, on numerous locations over my body. I’m so upset I’ve never looked into this morn before now. How can I have believed it was only me with this problem? I guess I didn’t realise other people have my particular issues either.

Although I’m mad and upset with myself, I’m feeling much better with myself for sharing the problem. My boyfriend (after three years!) knows why I disappear for long periods of time into another room and look shocked and awkward if he decides to walk into the bedroom when I haven’t heard him coming. And the fact I’ve been able to share it with my counsellor, not feeling judged or ‘weird’, is actually life changing. Without trying to sound cliche and ridiculous.

For the last two nights since counselling, I’ve actually picked a considerable amount less and felt slightly more in control. I’m not going to naive and think that all of a sudden it is going to slowly reduce into no problem, but it has made me feel less cornered by the problem being understood. Thank you to all of the women who’ve shared this problem and made me feel less alien!

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Seasons Greetings

Christmas this year has been the most perfect and magical one for years. I’ve been craving family company and am absolutely loving being back at my Mum’s.

I wanted to take this opportunity to say a massive Happy New Year to all of you that may read this, and I truly hope this is a great moment to look back on everything you’ve achieved this year, and can look forward to see what’s possible next year. 

Sending lots of love, and looking forward to 2018 being a year of progression, recovery and happiness. 

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Home?

This week is a killer for feeling lost. 

I feel like being closer to my home town could help, because my closer family live there and I crave their company regularly. On the other hand, I remind myself that leaving that place was my greatest achievement and how miserable I was living there. 

I love the independence of living nowhere near the family, especially when I live in London. But times like this make you want the love more really available. I can rely on my boyfriend for that most of the time, but what about when that’s not enough?

My other half has given our relationship a couple of bumps in the duration so far. Nothing I can’t forgive and nothing too terrible, but sometimes a week apart would be good so he can properly feel the effect of his actions. At the moment because we live together, it’s just not practical to opt for the silent treatment! And neither of us can afford to rent a room somewhere just for that luxury.

Growing up sure is difficult.

Last night I looked though old birthday cards and found one from my aunt who passed away in July this year. It was the last card I received from her. It shook me and I would never have expected such a small thing to get me in such a big way. I miss her all of the time and I really did love her a great deal. I hope she knew. 

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Drugs & PCOS

Today is a tired day. This full week I’m feeling extremely docile and sleepy. And it’s not just the feeling of general tiredness, it’s a weird feeling because it is different. Definitely medication induced. I’ve been taking Sertraline for 3 weeks now, and I feel it’s going well. On Saturday I started taking Empagliflozin too. Since then is when I’ve not felt great.

The Empagliflozin is for the PCOS. I’ve signed up to take part in an NHS study for this drug as it’s supposed to be good for women suffering with poly cystic ovary syndrome, as well as diabetics. At the moment only Metformin is available, and it doesn’t agree with everyone, so finally more is being done.

I can’t wait for the weekend!

Blog, Sharing, Uncategorized

Life Lost

In July, 3 days after I turned 27, my aunt died. Aged only 58.

I’d been helping her with bits and bobs through the last 2 years of her time struggling with terminal cancer; attending hospital appointments and treatment as well as staying over at hers just to keep her company.

Right now I wish I’d done so much more.

Before being diagnosed with terminal secondary breast cancer, I didn’t really know my aunt at all. I’d not spent time with her (other than when I’ve been a young child and can’t remember it) and had never visited her house. Now living in London, the opportunity presented itself for me to volunteer as a carer of some sort, which I did.

Not being the easiest of people to read, it was taught trying to get to know my aunt. Where other family members would be loving and openly giving as many hugs and kisses as possible, she was very to the point and methodical. Everything she did was for a specific reason and the way she did things was decided by her previous trial and errors, so if you tried to do anything your own way she was quick to question your motivations for deciding on that specific action. I often felt awkward and unsettled by the fact I couldn’t openly be totally ‘me’, always watching my grammar and pronunciation as well as always double checking her opinion on how I was stacking the dishwasher or making her bed.

It was my aunt who taught me how to do ‘hospital corners’. I remember her being pretty shocked that I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about until she showed me. That is one lesson I will never forget.

Over the course of months and months it turned out that she actually enjoyed my company. Although she never said those words and definitely didn’t laugh at my (obviously) hilarious jokes, she was amused by what came out of my large gob, always challenged my thoughts (in a good way) and always always had time for me. It became a companionship of necessity but I loved knowing that I was keeping her company when perhaps nobody else would have been there.

At this point it’s maybe worth mentioning that my aunt had been single for approximately the last 20 years and so was single, also had no children, lived in north London when most of the wider family lived 200 miles north, and (as far as we know) had many friends, but only a small handful that saw her often. Although they were there when she was sick, they obviously had their own lives and families and so not only did they not have all the time to spend with her but also my aunt didn’t want to feel like she was imposing on them.

I wish she hadn’t felt like she was imposing.

My company was not requested enough, considering how much I could have been there. I didn’t want to push myself on her but reminded her constantly that I’d be there in a heartbeat if she needed me. Or just wanted me to be there. The thought of anybody being lonely is horrific, especially knowing she was suffering physically. Never mind emotionally. How on earth do you go through that without having someone right there with you?!

Bereavement hasn’t yet begun for my aunt or the void she left in my life, but I think about her often. I saved an orchid from her house after she passed which I’m trying my best to care for, and that reminds me of how she loved her plants and growing beautiful flowers, inside her home and in the garden.

Diamond-Feather-Inclusions

Hopefully this blog will act as my therapy in talking about my aunt, and hopefully I am able to talk about all of the things I remember her for and love about her. Nobody will ever replace her, and nobody will come close. She was absolutely one in a million – a clever, independent, focussed, caring and beautiful human being.

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Maybe I’m not mad, but it sure feels like it sometimes…

My first blog post and hopefully the beginning of an uphill climb.

I started taking prescribed antidepressants last week and have been encouraged by my councellor to keep a diary or journal, so although I started writing on paper I felt it may be better to post online. I doubt any of my stories will be particularly interesting or hook you as a follower, but this shall be my journey of realisation in my illness, confronting everything that is contributing to it and (fingers crossed) overcoming it and managing it.

The reason for the name of this blog and website came from me feeling like I’d gone crazy. I hadn’t realised that depression was my problem until at least two years of suffering had been endured. I’d felt like I wasn’t myself but couldn’t explain why. My interest in everything I’d ever loved was gone and I was literally just coasting through my days.

Finally going to the doctor to explain all the physical symptoms I was having was the moment it turned around and it’s finally dawned on me what was wrong.

There are so many people suffering with mental health and I still can’t believe it’s such a taboo. This is me and this blog shall follow my journey. I’ll share what I’m going through and how I’m feeling, and fingers crossed it will benefit others too.

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