This weeks blog post is a little late because I've been having a bit of an internal debate about whether I could or should write it.
Obviously talking about sex is personal for anyone, but I'm not so worried about that as I am of being respectful to my husband. I don't know how he'd feel about me talking about this online.
In the end I've taken the view that this is an anonymous blog and I've only told people in my life about it that I trust and know wouldn't judge me. And besides, the whole purpose of writing all of this is to help myself, and hopefully others. I guess there's no point trying to do that if I'm not going to deal with all of the issues my depression and anxiety makes me face and deal with on a daily basis.
The thing is Sex, like so many other things, is an anxious subject for me at the moment. My sex life has not been good since my last pregnancy and the episode of depression I suffered. Sex is something I am rarely in the mood for and even if I am in the mood for it, I talk myself out of it with overthinking and paranoia. SEX is becoming a word, on a big neon sign in my mind, that flashes at me saying, 'You're a bad wife, you're a bad wife' on a regular basis. The less sex I have, the more anxious about it I get, and the less I want to do it.
My husband has never made a comment about it, and never would. He is patient and caring and I think he knows that this is something I am battling with mentally rather than anything to do with him. I hope he knows that.
He does do occasional things, to show affection, remind me that he still finds me attractive and to just put it out there that he's interested, like squeeze my bum, give me a long cuddle or a complimentary comment, but these make my anxiety peak and quite often results in me biting the poor sods head off and being even less likely to have sex than I was before.
I don't know why, but just knowing he's hinting at it, that there's a weight of expectation there, makes me feel so under pressure and out of control. It's like I only ever want to be the one that initiates it, but the thing is I never do. I don't have the confidence to.
Despite being together for more than ten years and having two children together, I feel hugely self conscious having sex with my husband. I'm conscious of how I look and what I'm doing to the point that I'm not enjoying the moment at all, just overthinking and worrying and feeling fat etc etc. Jesus I wish I could describe the anxiety I feel now just writing about this, let alone the self consciousness I feel at the time.
Three years ago, my parents split up and one of the things my dad said then, and still mentions now, is that there was never any affection there, and very rarely any sex. My husband and I have a great relationship, he is the best dad our children could ask for and he supports me through thick and thin. But what if I can't get to grips with the physical side of our relationship? How long is he going to put up with this? How long before he looks elsewhere, or we end up like my parents, divorced after a lifetime together?
I know the next step in my journey is to try to start rebuilding my self esteem and get some confidence back, so that a physical relationship with my husband doesn't seem so daunting. I just don't really know where to start!
Normally once I know what I want to write about, I can sit down and write a blog quite quickly, it just flows out of me in a big brain dump. This one has been completely different though, so much harder to write about and to acknowledge on paper how I feel. I meant to write a lot more, but I think this is all I can put out there at the moment.
At the very least, I hope one of you reading this is comforted by it, reassured that you're not alone. And if anyone has any advice on how I can break down my barriers and start to enjoy a good sex life again I would be very grateful to hear them.
Monday, 19 January 2015
Wednesday, 7 January 2015
Am I drug dependent? Does it matter?
I am scared of feeling better.
If I start to feel ok again my GP might want to reduce my medication. I don't know why the prospect of doing so bothers me so much, but it makes me feel extremely anxious to contemplate it.
I spent many years on 20 mg of Citalopram in a reasonably calm and contented state of mind, so reducing back down to 20mg now shouldn't seem like such a big deal, should it?
I know that my most recent episode of depression, the worst and frankly most life threatening I have ever experienced, was triggered by coming off the medication for the duration of my pregnancy and perhaps, as a result of this, I now have an increased dependency on the drug. Surely reducing the dose, or coming off of it all together, will send me back into the dark?
It's a perfectly logical fear if you think about it. For two years between periods of depression I was on medication and keeping my life in balance. 8 Months off of medication and my mental health spiralled out of control.
Is it wrong to be so dependent on it? Should I be aiming to come off of it at some point? That's a debate that rages on.
Sometimes the thought of being dependant on drugs for the rest of my life, just to make me feel OK makes me feel like I'm a failure. No one suffering from a tangible, physical illness would feel that way about taking medication on a regular basis, but when it comes to all things 'mental' we expect ourselves to be able to control it.
There's an acceptance in society that we can't think our way out of illnesses of the body, like diabetes, but there is still a strange idea that we should be able to think our way out of diseases of the mind.
We can take medication to manage our blood, our heart and even our hormones, without fear of stigma, but medication to 'change our mood' is frowned upon. I see so many posts on Twitter about wanting to get off of medication, or not wanting to start taking it. Although I can relate to these emotions, I don't understand why we have them.
My anti-depressants do not change who I am. The key things that make up my personality, including my emotiveness, are still very much there. I am who I am.
BUT, without medication I am a more intense version of myself, I struggle to cope with any form of conflict, stress or emotion. That version of me lacks the ability to function in day to day life.
Medication means I can be me, but I can function and I have control (most of the time!) Citalopram has no severe ill side effects for me personally and they cause me no physical harm. No one even needs to know that I take it unless I choose to tell them. So why stop taking them? Why feel like I should?
There is a side of the arguement, that people should deal with the underlying issue rather than the symptoms of their illness - but this isn't always possible, depression doesn't always have a trigger. And for the record, I have tried counselling and therapy and I believe it did help, but it wasn't a magical cure. Unfortunately the chemicals in my brain don't listen to a well meaning, clever and wise therapist as well as they do drugs.
My fear of getting better is really a fear of getting worse, if my medication is reduced. It's rational, but it's also in my control, I don't have to reduce it even if it is suggested to me.
Yes there are people who believe that relying on medication to get through life is weak, but I'd ask them to read this blog, to understand my journey, and still think I'm weak. I think/hope that what I am actually doing is being realistic. I look at my life like the Gweneth Paltrow film Sliding Doors. One version in which I try to be drug free and another in which I accept my dependency. I only die to young in one of those, as far as I'm concerned.
If I start to feel ok again my GP might want to reduce my medication. I don't know why the prospect of doing so bothers me so much, but it makes me feel extremely anxious to contemplate it.
I spent many years on 20 mg of Citalopram in a reasonably calm and contented state of mind, so reducing back down to 20mg now shouldn't seem like such a big deal, should it?
I know that my most recent episode of depression, the worst and frankly most life threatening I have ever experienced, was triggered by coming off the medication for the duration of my pregnancy and perhaps, as a result of this, I now have an increased dependency on the drug. Surely reducing the dose, or coming off of it all together, will send me back into the dark?
It's a perfectly logical fear if you think about it. For two years between periods of depression I was on medication and keeping my life in balance. 8 Months off of medication and my mental health spiralled out of control.
Is it wrong to be so dependent on it? Should I be aiming to come off of it at some point? That's a debate that rages on.
Sometimes the thought of being dependant on drugs for the rest of my life, just to make me feel OK makes me feel like I'm a failure. No one suffering from a tangible, physical illness would feel that way about taking medication on a regular basis, but when it comes to all things 'mental' we expect ourselves to be able to control it.
There's an acceptance in society that we can't think our way out of illnesses of the body, like diabetes, but there is still a strange idea that we should be able to think our way out of diseases of the mind.
We can take medication to manage our blood, our heart and even our hormones, without fear of stigma, but medication to 'change our mood' is frowned upon. I see so many posts on Twitter about wanting to get off of medication, or not wanting to start taking it. Although I can relate to these emotions, I don't understand why we have them.
My anti-depressants do not change who I am. The key things that make up my personality, including my emotiveness, are still very much there. I am who I am.
BUT, without medication I am a more intense version of myself, I struggle to cope with any form of conflict, stress or emotion. That version of me lacks the ability to function in day to day life.
Medication means I can be me, but I can function and I have control (most of the time!) Citalopram has no severe ill side effects for me personally and they cause me no physical harm. No one even needs to know that I take it unless I choose to tell them. So why stop taking them? Why feel like I should?
There is a side of the arguement, that people should deal with the underlying issue rather than the symptoms of their illness - but this isn't always possible, depression doesn't always have a trigger. And for the record, I have tried counselling and therapy and I believe it did help, but it wasn't a magical cure. Unfortunately the chemicals in my brain don't listen to a well meaning, clever and wise therapist as well as they do drugs.
My fear of getting better is really a fear of getting worse, if my medication is reduced. It's rational, but it's also in my control, I don't have to reduce it even if it is suggested to me.
Yes there are people who believe that relying on medication to get through life is weak, but I'd ask them to read this blog, to understand my journey, and still think I'm weak. I think/hope that what I am actually doing is being realistic. I look at my life like the Gweneth Paltrow film Sliding Doors. One version in which I try to be drug free and another in which I accept my dependency. I only die to young in one of those, as far as I'm concerned.
Thursday, 1 January 2015
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