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Shrinkage 1 & 2

April 13th, 2008 | 7 Comments | Posted in Shrinkapalooza 2008

I wasn’t quite as nervous going to the Shrink as I thought I’d be. I guess because I’d met her a few times before there wasn’t the unknown factor lurking in the back of my mind that would normally make me super anxious. Turns out, I was right to be comfortable and calm about it because she’s wonderful. My shrink, who’ll henceforth be known as ‘Shrink’, is about the same age as my mum. She’s lovely and funny and has a very nurturing aura about her that put me at ease straight away.
These first two sessions we’ve spent with her getting to know me. I’ve just talked and talked and she’s listened and told anecdotes and interacted with me like you would a friend, albeit a friend you pay to hang out with. I really feel like we’re on the same wave length and her suggestions have made me feel empowered, which is something I haven’t felt for a long time.

We’ve talked about family, friends, relationships, past therapists, dentists, having kids, my Endo, suicide, ‘beige’, books, theories. I haven’t felt ‘under the microscope’ at all, which is something that has surprised me.  I expected to be judged and analyzed but instead I feel safe and confidant that she sees me as a whole person, not just the screwed up bits.

My first weeks homework was to identify my ‘cycle’… I promise, there’ll be no talk of ovulation.

Basically, here’s how it goes when I start to meander off track.

Beige settles in for whatever reason. Because I feel down, I isolate myself and avoid friends. I worry that I’ve upset my friends by avoiding them so I don’t call them for support. Instead, I stay in my room alone, where I’m left with only my thoughts so they begin to fester and they get worse. I find it hard to sleep with those kind of thoughts in my head, so I sleep all day and can’t sleep at night. This throws my body out of whack and I begin to feel worse. I lose motivation to do daily things like move, bathe, eat or take my medication. Without my meds, I get worse and at my worst, I can’t get out of bed. This means, I don’t put in my centrelink form because I can’t muster the motivation to get there. Without being paid, I don’t have money to buy my medication. So the cycle just gets worse until I call Mum and she fills my prescription and organizes to get me to Centrelink. This makes me feel like I have some semblence of control again, and I start back on my meds. My mood improves and a week later, I’m back to ‘normal’.   This happens every 3 months or so, sometimes more, sometimes less. It can vary in severity, who helps, how I deal with feeling so down, but essentially that’s the general pattern.

My second weeks homework is to identify the signs of ‘beige’ and put together an evacuation plan, so to speak;

Start to feel beige… what should I do?

-Play with Columbo
-Sit outside in the sunshine and have a few ciggies
-Have a shower and wash my hair, shave my legs, pluck eyebrows
-Call a friend and make plans and ask them to make sure I don’t cancel
-Go for a walk…doesn’t have to be a long one, just get moving.
-Go to the folks for the evening
-Write how I’m feeling in my blog, even if I have to make it a private entry
-Visit Cuteoverload.com
-Have a snooze, but only after I’ve had a shower
-Go to bed early
-Call and talk to Mum

I have to think of some more…if you have suggestions, feel free to leave a comment, that’d be awesome.
Anyway, thanks for reading all of this. Some of this might get a bit boring for you or a bit “TMI”, so it’s cool if you wanna skip it.
But I really appreciate the support I’ve had and this is a really big deal for me, so it means a lot.
Thanks guys (you know who you are)

xoxoxox

T minus 18 hours and counting…

March 26th, 2008 | 4 Comments | Posted in Shrinkapalooza 2008

Well, tomorrow marks the date of my first appointment with the new Shrink. I’m simultaneously nervous, excited, optimistic, pessimistic and scared shitless. I know I don’t really have a valid reason to be nervous as I’ve met this bird before and she’s nothing but fantastic, but there’s a difference between standing around chatting about my new hair colour and dumping all my neuroses on this poor woman.

The thing I’m most concerned about is having to talk about issues and memories I’d rather not have to think about.  I’m sure Homer Simpson is on to something…“Lisa, the best thing for your mother to do is suppress her fear. Push it deep down inside so that she’ll never annoy us again.” 
I mean, I’m not hiding any huge secrets, but I guess I’m going to have to talk about how I feel about myself, my actions and the actions of other people in my life, and I’m not sure I’m ready to do that. I’ve had some pretty low times in the last ten years and I’ve had some really dark thoughts and it’s going to be hard to talk about all of those things without having to relive those emotions.

Tomorrows session will also be the beginning of the end for Aropax. I’m doing the therapy as an aid to help me to come off Aropax and find a more suitable anti-depressant, one that doesn’t leave me devoid of all motivation, proper sleep patterns and mojo. While I’m excited about the prospect of the return of all of those things, I’m also terrified. Aropax was my saviour when I was so low I couldn’t even see myself still being alive at 26.  It’s been my best friend and my worst enemy. I’m scared that whatever I take next won’t work as well as Aropax has, and I will become the anxiety ridden Prue I was for so long. What if it’s like when I swapped Aropax for Cipromil and I ended up Agoraphobic for 18 months? I was so fucked up, I couldn’t even sleep upstairs in the bed with my boyfriend. Instead, I’d sleep on the couch most nights because I felt safe in the lounge room and the bedroom would fill me with anxiety. In fact, the whole upstairs of our house did. How’s that for screwed up? So as you can see, they weren’t good times and I’m certainly not keen to revisit them, which is why this change in medication is such a big deal for me.

My mum thinks I need to think positively, and that if I keep thinking of the worst case scenario, then I will be jinxing myself from the start. But I guess, I need to think of the worst case scenario to get me through it. It’s hard to explain, but if I can see the absolute worst outcome ever and know that I can  manage it, then anything else doesn’t seem so scary. Plus, I don’t want to get my hopes up too high. I don’t expect this to be some magic cure all and mental illness will probably be something I will struggle with for the rest of my life, but I obviously want some sort of improvement in my quality of life. I would be so disappointed, bitterly so, if I did all this work, failed and I hadn’t contemplated the risk of it not working.  I guess I’m living by the motto “Aim Low, Avoid Disappointment” when it comes to this whole thing.

Anyways, I gotta go and get some sleep, so wish me luck for my appointment. I plan on keeping track of my progress in my blog, so I’ll keep you updated.