Time is rolling by as time inevitably does. My days merge into one big mass of bottle feeding and toddler entertaining. Keeping busy and filling my days so I don't think too much and closing my mind and shutting the doors to my demons in the process. Nothing gets worse, but nothing gets better either.
I don't begrudge this time, I know I should treasure it, that Joe will be small for such a brief period and I will miss it when it's gone. But it does feel like 'empty' time to me at the moment. It feels like I'm going through the motions, existing, but not really living. Getting by but not getting better.
I've been signed off by my midwife now, and am in the hands of my health visitor & GP. I was meant to hear back from the mental health specialists after Joe was born but nothing so far. I cannot say I'm surprised or disappointed.
My health visitor is very nice, although a little chatty. The irony of the 'listening visits' that have been allocated to me is that sometimes I can't get a word in edge ways. She has an excellent understanding of mental illness though, having previously trained as a counsellor, and is a warm, friendly person. I saw her last week after my last blog entry and was as honest as I could be about how I was feeling. It gets exhausting trying to explain it to people when I barely understand it myself. Half of me wishes I could walk around with paper copies of this blog and just hand them to people when they ask how I'm doing.
As I've said in previous posts, I'm hoping that the current dip in mood is down to post birth hormones, but the health visitor & I agreed that we'd give it until today and if it was no better I'd go to the a Doctor to review my medication. The deadline was a good idea, without one I think I'd just have kept leaving it a few more days, especially after my last GP visit (see the entry: Depression? Call the Midwife), and I didn't want to end up leaving it so long it got critical like last time.
So, I went to see the Doctor today and apart from bumping into the GP from last time and having an anxiety attack (because I was convinced he remembered me and knew I'd moaned about him) the whole experience was much more pleasant.
I saw my usual GP, an older guy who is gentle, kind and knowledgeable. He listened, he asked questions and never rushed me. He offered my tissues with a gentle hand squeeze. He's the kind of guy you want to adopt as a grandparent.
He knows my history which of course makes things easier. He felt that it's likely to be hormones that are making things feel like they're getting worse at the moment, and said these could carry on for another month, so has recommended I double my dose of Citalopram in the meantime. He emphasised that this wouldn't be permanent - just a temporary measure to help right now, and we'd go back down to my normal dose later on. I'm a bit nervous about reducing the dose back down again later but he assured me that wouldn't have severe side effects and to be honest I've reached the point now where I'm happy to go with whatever he says, because I just don't want things to get as bad as they did before.
My GP also suggested, as a more permanent aid, that I try some hypnosis. He said that it's particularly good for anxiety and he thinks it could really help me. He's managed to get me three NHS sessions starting from next week! If it hadn't have completely inappropriate I'd have hugged him on my way out, I was so grateful for his compassion, advice and mostly his proactivity in thinking of other ways he could help me. Oh I'll be a wreck next week before I go to the hypnosis, and I've no idea what to expect or whether it will help me. But the point is I feel like he cares, like he's trying. And in turn it feels like I'm trying, that I'm taking steps to control my illness instead of it controlling me.
A longer term solution that's not medication really appeals to me.
All I wanted before was to get back to feeling like my old self, but now I find myself wondering if that's enough. I think I want more.
I feel like I've come so bloody far, fought tooth and nail just to survive and keep going and I shouldn't waste that on going back to 'normal'. I want, no, I deserve, a life less ordinary. I'm not talking Nobel peace prizes or world changing scientific discoveries here, but I would like to make a difference. I'd like to follow my dreams, and help other people and leave some sort of mark on this world that I can be proud of, that shows I am more than just depression & anxiety.
It's not just about recovery anymore, it's about becoming the person I should've been all along.
No comments:
Post a Comment