Emoanxidefidepressitis.

The time has come where I admit my brain has recently developed an updated malfunction error code. It can’t get past the start up mode. Instead of number and letters, I have compulsive and obsessive thoughts flashing by like some sort of sodding space storm. As a self-medicator I knew that not drinking would threw up some delightful debris but feeling compelled to do five things simultaneously constantly, whilst snapping at everyone in my family or bursting into tears combined with the inability to stop picking at every inch of my face or scalp, was not something I had bargained on. Yep, it feels that bad.

Fortunately (unfortunately?), it doesn’t look that bad to the outsider.. I can chat, laugh and function. However the cracks are starting to show. I have had to leave social events early or avoided doing things with friends because I can’t stop the chatter in my mind. I feel that unless I am constantly engaged in something, then I need to be on my own. I am unable to focus when watching TV shows so now it is only films or really good documentaries that I can sit still enough to enjoy. The good thing is that reading a book is my lifeline, even if I do have a bad habit of skimming the page before being able to read it properly. And I constantly forget who new characters are.

As I look back historically I have realised that this behaviour has always been there but it has been masked by alcohol. When people visit, I find it difficult to sit down and relax – unless I am pissed. When camping, I struggle to sit down because I can always find something to tidy and I remember when I went to Thailand in my early 20s, nearly having a melt-down because everyone was relaxing in hammocks – I couldn’t cope with the lack of stimulation. I thought that ditching nightly glasses of wine would mean I would be able to concentrate more, have less low moments and the Shitty Guilt Fairy would fuck off. Apparently, she is still knocking about.. only she doesn’t harp on about wine any more… just about my general level of shitness.

I think back to being a teenager and telling my mum that everything was going too fast.. my thoughts and my actions.. they were on a motor.. I used to have to turn the tap on to quieten it all down. Slowly I can piece it together.. the hours of crying when I was in my teens? I was bored. I couldn’t self-soothe, until I opened another can of cider.

I have mentioned before that I have been accused of a penchant for drama and more recently how I never stop.. that there is always a new project to undertake, be it diy/a new hobby/getting an animal.. I see the similarity between my MO and I. I see the despair when he is thwarted and how it is mirrored in my own behaviour.

The last four months, the irritability has worsened. The concentration levels are plummeting and I can’t find my off switch. My highs and lows feel even more pronounced; worry and guilt have taken top spot. So I have accepted I need more help, not just for me but to benefit my relationships too and also to ensure I don’t fall off the nursing degree wagon.

I have been to the GP, she will write a letter of confirming my ‘long term condition’ (ironic that we are doing that particular module at the moment 😉 ) to my uni so that I can buy more time for my essays and I can get a learning support plan in place.

Writing this isn’t easy. It’s not a cry for help (already done that at the doctors 🙂 ) – I am not heading towards an abyss but I am slipping and one of the most important things when you have somewhat sketchy mental health, is to recognise it. This post also has a purpose; to highlight that even those who appear to be doing ok, or maybe are just a bit eccentric, or neurotic.. they sometimes have an illness. A real bonafide illness. Mine was (unbeknownst to me) labelled by medics as a borderline personality disorder, (now known as an emotionally unstable personality disorder…how rude) – back in 2003 – combined with anxiety and a history of depression – these can cross over with attention deficit hyperactive disorders too.. which could explain a lot of things. Little did I know when looking at behavioural symptoms our MO was having, that on the adult ADHD screening sheet, I would resonate with the vast majority of them.

It’s difficult for my lovely family and wonderful friends and I love them so, so much for sticking with my highs and lows. My unpredictability. My new obsessions. I used to hate what I perceived to be judging comments but now I have begun to realise that unless you are in my brain (and thank the bejeezus you ain’t), you wouldn’t understand. So now I try and recognise their opinions for what they are; they come from a place of love and most probably, a place of innate frustration! As a parent of a child who is exhibiting these very same characteristics (if I have to listen to him harp on about fucking Joella one more time, I will explode); I now understand how draining it can be trying to support someone like him. And like me.

In the main I try and hide the majority of my ‘quirks’.. when I am really struggling I build my wall and camp down behind it until they subside, so that no-one sees how bad I am getting. For my husband and children though, they aren’t so lucky.. they are generally also stuck behind the wall with me.

 

 

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