I wrote this a little while ago as I began to emerge from the empty space that that consumed me. I didn’t publish it at the time because I felt ashamed. Ridiculous I know now but at the time very much the way I felt, and I want to share now because I want you to know reaching out for help helps.
Someone said to me yesterday that I am lucky, I recognise a problem and take action, often preventing things from escalating. She reminded me not everyone has this ability . I suppose it’s the nurse in me.
“I’m really not used to feeling this way. Looking back over the last few weeks I should have recognise the downward spiral. (It took me a while then.)
My natural instinct as always to push my self further even as my energy levels dipped, proving to the world that I am strong, not lazy.
It has been to my detriment.
Mentally and physically I knew that cracks were appearing, my cup was leaking.
The counselling has undoubtedly taken me back to places I didn’t want to go. I’ve conveniently forgotten some of the memories of the worst times, storing them secure in the depths of my mind. Like a sunken chest of the difficult and painful, hoping that they would never surface again. But I suppose all along knowing that one day they would.
My counsellor has explained research proves opening the these boxes in a safe space, however difficult to do is ultimately a positive thing – I understand this but it doesn’t mean that it makes it any easier to do, and it has definitely been more challenging than I ever expected.
However something, call it instinct tells me I have already faced this problems, I’ve stored them safely already, processed every moment day by day in my blog. I have done the soul searching process, dealt with stuff. I’m not angry, not upset just exhausted. I’m confused and concerned.
The consequential flash backs and vivid dreams have now been added to a generalised fatigue. I’ve been taking prescription iron for the last four months but it hasn’t helped, something to discuss at a follow up appointment.
But it turns out there would be a lot more to say in my ten minute slot with my GP.
Ever proactive I make a list of everything I want to cover, my foggy brain simply doesn’t feel reliable, worse my couldn’t give a dam attitude worries me. Emptiness, apathy my constant need to sleep. If fact as soon as I wake up I’m thinking about going back to bed. If it wasn’t for looking after Hettie I probably wouldn’t bother getting out.
I don’t give a dam what I look like, what I’m wearing. No interest in food, no interest in anything. I spent all morning the other day staring at a picture on the wall. The radio irritates me, so there’s silence. I switch on the tv and flick channels and switch it off without watching anything. It feels like I’ve been switched off too.
It’s been a busy summer, but the darker days and longer nights might be contributing to this feeling of hopelessness, worthlessness lack of motivation and fear of the future. I’ve an overwhelming anxiety about that.
Maybe things have suddenly come to a head because I have a long awaited solo trip to Iceland pending. In my heart I know I’m not feeling well enough to go, but as always I doubt myself, am I simply over reacting or is even contemplating getting on a plane reckless. I am definitely dreading getting there and finding I have a complete breakdown, all alone in an unfamiliar place in sub zero temperatures.
My thoughts swing from ‘Of course you can do it – to of course you can’t possibly do it, it’s madness.’
An exciting schedule, October is a good time to try to catch the Northern Lights, I’ve booked whale watching, the golden circle tour and bathing in the Hvammsvik Hot Springs, and so been looking forward to the natural geothermal pools beside the sea in a beautiful fjord setting. I’ve spent weeks getting all the equipment I need for my solo adventure.
Back in July I felt I’d be ready to move forward.
Unfortunately my positivity was premature.
‘What can I do for you today?’ The Doctor has obviously not remembered she why she wanted to see me.
My answer feels a brave one,
‘I think I need some help.’
I hand over my list, thinking it will save precious time.
But she asks me to explain in person what I need.
The exhaustion, the apathy, the anxiety pours out of me, I hardly recognise myself. There are unexpected tears I can’t contain, all I can think is what on earth is wrong with me?
I’m asked about Ken, his dramatic death and the decade of caregiving, I can see the doctor’s face soften.
She orders some tests to see why the iron hasn’t improved anything, and checks my compliance. I begin to realise physically I’ve issues, but it seems mentally I have more.
Burn out, PTSD, depression, anxiety, all terms I understand but have never considered for myself.I have always prided myself on my resilience and positivity.
A dear friend says later I have worn a mask of positivity so long I have convinced myself that I am, but pretending can catch up eventually it can’t be sustained forever.
It has been a huge shock to find that I need to care for myself better.
Six months since Ken died as I’ve said before is probably the most brutal period in grief. Life for others moves on. But it’s when my body and mind simultaneously decide to remind me I need to recharge and heal.
The doctor advises antidepressants to regulate the chemicals in my brain.
On advice I cancel my trip. To be honest I’m more relieved than disappointed, yet I think I’d have gone if I hadn’t been given this permission. My nagging imposter syndrome almost over rules common sense.
I’ve put in a claim with my travel insurance.
I know now no way would I have coped. It’s trip that needs me on top form. I’d prepared for the minus degree temperatures, and rugged terrain, but now I feel very foolish even considering I was fit enough to take on such a trip.
I’ve been on the antidepressants a few weeks now. The doctor warned me that there would be side effects but to sick with them. Headache, nausea, nightmares, night sweats, she wasn’t joking. I found myself falling asleep at any opportunity during the day. The can’t be bothered attitude overwhelmed me, even the smallest things took maximum effort.
Socially i withdrew , I didn’t want people to see me. Even those who have are my closest people.
I let neighbours know I wasn’t going away, and had kind messages, flowers and homemade carrot and lentil soup on the doorstep. People care about me and I am thankful.
Giving sensible advice and support to others usually comes easy, giving the same advice to myself not so much. But I want to write honesty so that other people who have similar experiences to me know that they are not alone, and I will get through this; asking for help wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
As I said yesterday I’m on the mend, working hard to stay in the present and appreciate the things that matter most. The tablets for me are definitely helping, they have no stigma, they just do a job.
Reflecting and editing this post I realise how quickly things have turned around but it has been such a steep learning curve.
I know that I am fragile but not broken, I’m getting stronger every day with love and kindness, I have to take the time it takes I do not want ever to return to that barren place.
