For a month ago (roughly), I got a new medicine. Since I'm agains all kind of pills - especially since me getting caught in eating too much painkillers a couple of years ago - it took me quite a while to accept the fact that my current antidepressives aren't doing the best for me anymore (if they ever had....)
Sure, serotonin can be helpful, one might need that sometimes as a crutch to hold on to when the sea is at storm, but you shouldn't solely depent on it. If you eat that stuff (like I did, for over ten years now), and you feel like a neutral veggie or your emotions still kicks you into a rollercoaster, you might need something else.
So, I took the big step of trying something completely new for me. And guess what? It works, and it works damn well too! I don't really care if it's placebo, as long as I feel like a human being again. And it has minimized my chronical pain as well (I'm diagnosed with arthritis and fibromyalgia). The pain is now softer, and more bearable.
I now have access to my feelings again, without the rollercoasterturns. Earlier, the inside of my head was a mess of thoughts, like a tornado. This caused great stress (with all the trouble that comes with living on the edge the whole time), and insomnia of course. Sure, I could focus on things, but if I'm honest, I had a tendency of running bananas like a armoured car here at home. I was so winded up around dinnertime that I had troubles just sitting down and enjoying a good meal with my family. And of course they all felt the stress too, no matter how I tried to hide it underneath my "happymommyface".
The medicine they gave me is a antiepelepticum, called Lamotrigin. I was really scared the first weeks, what if I would become even more active and stressed out? Or depressed and sad? Or completly bananas and out of control? The thoughts and fears were many, but now I just feel at ease over my decision.
Next week I'm taking out the serotonin (very slowly and careful), hold a thumb for me please. I have very little hopes of me being completely medicinfree this year though, but who knows?
Last but not least. The reason I dared changing meds is basically that I now have a good, solid doctor. Yes, he's really green at his job, sure, but I see him as competent (however a bit nervy and all over the place...) But he listens, comes with good points, and is always supportive in a nice way. Yei to him!
tisdag
torsdag
Going public, hello brown paperbag over my head
Dear lord almighty..
Now I've read the article our local newspaper wrote about me. Above that, I've also watched the video that was posted on the internet along with this article.
Guess it was kind of good, but....
1- The reporter never told me she was filming me. She had this camera beside her "just for the sound, it can be good to have". Right there I should have suspected something, but no, I didn't (blueeyes inside and out, yes). So, shoot me for being naive.
2- The headline was a bit too much, I almost fell of my unicorn as I read it...... She didn't tell me about that either. It said "Ambers double life, living with heavy anxiety and hiding her drug abuse".
Thank you lady, that'll be great for my kids (and all their friends) to read. Shoot me again please.
The good thing is that this article (actually a series of articles that's been running for months now) is about how the doctors tend to give prescriptions for heavy drugs without following the patient further on. Too often they give you a "bigpack" containing a minimum of three months usage. Great. If you're addicted. Wich I became. And got out of.
I think it's really good that they drag this out into the open, not a day too late!
I have lived with the thought of me being a not-so-shabby-addict. This headline forced me to see the truth, indeed I was a drug addict back then. In fact, I mixed sleeping pills, morphine and vodka at the end, several times a day, before I finally came around to my senses and became myself again.
I will come to that later too, in an other chapter. Nothing I'm proud of, of course. But getting sober and clean all by my self, guess I can give myself a big pat on the back for that one at least.
Now I've been out of the fog for three years. The struggle continues, but I feel stronger and more calm than ever before. Hurray for that!
As I watched this video of hers, I noticed one other thing. I am not ugly. Not at all in fact. And I dont sound weird when I talk.
That was a surprise!
For all my life I've avoided cameras and all that as much as possible (not easy now in 2016 ...). I've been raised told that I'm too ugly for my mother to even speak to or look at. And I guess I believed her, never questioned it at least.
For these three sober years (and mainly since I got into psykodynamic therapy) I've had the guts to question if I'm really that bad, that ugly, that nasty, that nothing-to-be-proud-of, yadda yadda. At my heaviest days, I've even had troubles going outdoors, avoiding people and all that. But now I really see that this is just an ugly illusion, I'm good enough.
So. The article gave me a lot of good shit in the end. But. I still refuse to go out without my brown paper bag!
Now I've read the article our local newspaper wrote about me. Above that, I've also watched the video that was posted on the internet along with this article.
Guess it was kind of good, but....
1- The reporter never told me she was filming me. She had this camera beside her "just for the sound, it can be good to have". Right there I should have suspected something, but no, I didn't (blueeyes inside and out, yes). So, shoot me for being naive.
2- The headline was a bit too much, I almost fell of my unicorn as I read it...... She didn't tell me about that either. It said "Ambers double life, living with heavy anxiety and hiding her drug abuse".
Thank you lady, that'll be great for my kids (and all their friends) to read. Shoot me again please.
The good thing is that this article (actually a series of articles that's been running for months now) is about how the doctors tend to give prescriptions for heavy drugs without following the patient further on. Too often they give you a "bigpack" containing a minimum of three months usage. Great. If you're addicted. Wich I became. And got out of.
I think it's really good that they drag this out into the open, not a day too late!
I have lived with the thought of me being a not-so-shabby-addict. This headline forced me to see the truth, indeed I was a drug addict back then. In fact, I mixed sleeping pills, morphine and vodka at the end, several times a day, before I finally came around to my senses and became myself again.
I will come to that later too, in an other chapter. Nothing I'm proud of, of course. But getting sober and clean all by my self, guess I can give myself a big pat on the back for that one at least.
Now I've been out of the fog for three years. The struggle continues, but I feel stronger and more calm than ever before. Hurray for that!
As I watched this video of hers, I noticed one other thing. I am not ugly. Not at all in fact. And I dont sound weird when I talk.
That was a surprise!
For all my life I've avoided cameras and all that as much as possible (not easy now in 2016 ...). I've been raised told that I'm too ugly for my mother to even speak to or look at. And I guess I believed her, never questioned it at least.
For these three sober years (and mainly since I got into psykodynamic therapy) I've had the guts to question if I'm really that bad, that ugly, that nasty, that nothing-to-be-proud-of, yadda yadda. At my heaviest days, I've even had troubles going outdoors, avoiding people and all that. But now I really see that this is just an ugly illusion, I'm good enough.
So. The article gave me a lot of good shit in the end. But. I still refuse to go out without my brown paper bag!
söndag
The wrong place at the wrong time
Today I was supposed to go to a meeting in my role as a friend to a man who is investigating his psychiatric conditions. My friend told me to be there (at the clinic) at three, and wait outside for the doctor to let me in (since it's Sunday and not on any ordinary schedule).
When I got there, I saw a friend of my moms standing there as well. We said hi, how are you and all the ordinary phrases. I was a bit withdrawn as I don't know if this woman has any contact with my mother at the moment. Normally, my moms so called friends never last that long. She grinds them down mentally, uses them for what ever purpose she has at the moment, and makes a big fuss when she gets tired of them being not so addicted to her anymore.
Long story short - she's rather good at making enemies (well earned...)
When I got in to the clinic, the doc told me he had actually booked an appointment by phone with me, and it was not this afternoon. I wasn't supposed to have come there. But since I came anyways, he welcomed me and we had our meeting.
When I was all done and stepped out in the hallway I saw the other woman waving at me down the corridor. "Come here a sec, will you?"
"Oh shit, here it comes agaaain" I thought. I'm used to hearing what a pity it is that I have turned my back at my mom, and how childish I am for holding grudges against the woman who got me into this world. Usually this is thrown at me by people who only know her vaguely, but it is hard to hear all this from time to time, it's so tiring to have to defend my choices.
But all she said to me was "If you're ever in doubt, believe this: You are so right not having any contact at all with that mother of yours. Oh the stories I could tell. Never, ever doubt, you did the right thing".
I almost broke down in tears by this surprising message.
There I was, at the wrong time, wrong place and everything, and I got this almost magical words said to me straight up. Just like that! It meant the world to me to hear her say that, believe me.
I'm a victim of childhood abuse. Mother broke my arm first time when I was two years old. The physical and mental abuse continued until I was sixteen and moved away from her. I have much to tell here, but that's a later issue.
Tonight I'm going to sleep all happy, comforted by this Sunday. And if I didn't believe in fortuity, well... Now I do!
When I got there, I saw a friend of my moms standing there as well. We said hi, how are you and all the ordinary phrases. I was a bit withdrawn as I don't know if this woman has any contact with my mother at the moment. Normally, my moms so called friends never last that long. She grinds them down mentally, uses them for what ever purpose she has at the moment, and makes a big fuss when she gets tired of them being not so addicted to her anymore.
Long story short - she's rather good at making enemies (well earned...)
When I got in to the clinic, the doc told me he had actually booked an appointment by phone with me, and it was not this afternoon. I wasn't supposed to have come there. But since I came anyways, he welcomed me and we had our meeting.
When I was all done and stepped out in the hallway I saw the other woman waving at me down the corridor. "Come here a sec, will you?"
"Oh shit, here it comes agaaain" I thought. I'm used to hearing what a pity it is that I have turned my back at my mom, and how childish I am for holding grudges against the woman who got me into this world. Usually this is thrown at me by people who only know her vaguely, but it is hard to hear all this from time to time, it's so tiring to have to defend my choices.
But all she said to me was "If you're ever in doubt, believe this: You are so right not having any contact at all with that mother of yours. Oh the stories I could tell. Never, ever doubt, you did the right thing".
I almost broke down in tears by this surprising message.
There I was, at the wrong time, wrong place and everything, and I got this almost magical words said to me straight up. Just like that! It meant the world to me to hear her say that, believe me.
I'm a victim of childhood abuse. Mother broke my arm first time when I was two years old. The physical and mental abuse continued until I was sixteen and moved away from her. I have much to tell here, but that's a later issue.
Tonight I'm going to sleep all happy, comforted by this Sunday. And if I didn't believe in fortuity, well... Now I do!
måndag
Interview tomorrow
Tomorrow it's finally time for my long wanted interview in our local newspaper. For a while now, there has been a hot storyline of how the doctors prescribe heavy medicins for people without knowing their full health condition (and how easy it really is to get those heavy substances without being physically investigated at all), and how many patients either get even sicker or/and get stuck in the deep swamp of drug abuse because of this. Terrible if you ask me, so it's really good that this shit has come out in the open finally.
Yes, it is a rather delicate, sensitive subject to many. Speaking up in public about health conditions, how it is to be addicted to painkillers, psychiatric illnesses, and not least criticize our golden doctors (no one is going to admit me as their patient from now on, because I do have a lot to tell here) etc etc...
Well. We live in a smaller town. People tend to gossip - a lot. If the newspapers say so, then it surely must be true!
In this town you are what you always were, never forgiven, never given second chances. Funny how that goes until one of the "good guys" take a shit in the wrong jar....
I've been on both sides. I've been the critical eye, I've been the fallen golden girl, I've taken the sides of all the wrong people, and I've fought and been the voice for the not so strong. I can be a pain in the ass with my honesty, and I'm quite fearless to the great gossipers in this community.
The trouble with me is that I have no problems speaking up in public at all (which sometimes gave me a feeling of never wanting to go outside without a brown paper bag over my face, but I've survived that too).
Yes, sometimes people get a bit offended or even hurt, but I have never said a mean word to anyone that doesn't deserve it, honestly. And I've rarely criticized anyone's personal sides as much as their actions.
So. Hold a thumb for me folks, may I choose the right words this time too.
Yes, it is a rather delicate, sensitive subject to many. Speaking up in public about health conditions, how it is to be addicted to painkillers, psychiatric illnesses, and not least criticize our golden doctors (no one is going to admit me as their patient from now on, because I do have a lot to tell here) etc etc...
Well. We live in a smaller town. People tend to gossip - a lot. If the newspapers say so, then it surely must be true!
In this town you are what you always were, never forgiven, never given second chances. Funny how that goes until one of the "good guys" take a shit in the wrong jar....
I've been on both sides. I've been the critical eye, I've been the fallen golden girl, I've taken the sides of all the wrong people, and I've fought and been the voice for the not so strong. I can be a pain in the ass with my honesty, and I'm quite fearless to the great gossipers in this community.
The trouble with me is that I have no problems speaking up in public at all (which sometimes gave me a feeling of never wanting to go outside without a brown paper bag over my face, but I've survived that too).
Yes, sometimes people get a bit offended or even hurt, but I have never said a mean word to anyone that doesn't deserve it, honestly. And I've rarely criticized anyone's personal sides as much as their actions.
So. Hold a thumb for me folks, may I choose the right words this time too.
fredag
The ugly wall
Hi.
I'm new here, but not new to writing blogs actually. This might be my seventh blog (I think, probably I've forgotten about some oldies I wrote years ago..), but this is a whole different one.
Earlier, I tried to fit in. I tried to write that "oh look how happy my life is, look at my healthy eating, my time at the gym", yadda yadda, well - you get it?
I didn't want anyone (or mainly myself) see how things really were, deep under the surface. Couldn't admit that I was one constantly unhappy, depressed, pillpopping, angry puppy, no way. That was not how I wanted to see myself at all.
A short background (yes, this actually is the very short version):
Had my first severe depression when I was around nine years old. Grew up with a pretty unstable mother (I get to that later on), and a stone cold father. Two adorable, younger sisters, not so many friends, and grandparents who had no troubles both being there for me, but partly ruled the whole family by giving us a guilty conscious to get their will through.
Moved to my father (in another town) in my teens, hoped for stability and a better life.
Moved to my own apartment at age sixteen, got through school with low grades (but I did it), and started working right the day after I graduated.
Moved back to my hometown at age twenty, got two lovely sons during the next three years, worked, studied, worked a bit more and started my own company at age twenty seven.
Twelve years later, I was both married, divorced, had my third son, got divorced again, and finally I hit the big, hard wall with the speed of lightning it self. Had to shamefully leave my beloved business to my colleague, and just crawl away and hide from everything but my children. Total breakdown, both physically and mentally.
How could this be? Strangely this came as a heavy, ugly surprise to me, I was totally unaware of the life I lived.
That breakdown is now four years ago. And that's where my story, my life, really started.
By building a new ground, a firm, solid one this time, I slowly began (and still is btw) to take my life back, I began to make choices based on what I needed, what my soul needed.
I'll try to get you all a good, fair view of how a sad soul actually can heal, hopefully I can help someone out or at least point you in the right direction <3
I'm new here, but not new to writing blogs actually. This might be my seventh blog (I think, probably I've forgotten about some oldies I wrote years ago..), but this is a whole different one.
Earlier, I tried to fit in. I tried to write that "oh look how happy my life is, look at my healthy eating, my time at the gym", yadda yadda, well - you get it?
I didn't want anyone (or mainly myself) see how things really were, deep under the surface. Couldn't admit that I was one constantly unhappy, depressed, pillpopping, angry puppy, no way. That was not how I wanted to see myself at all.
A short background (yes, this actually is the very short version):
Had my first severe depression when I was around nine years old. Grew up with a pretty unstable mother (I get to that later on), and a stone cold father. Two adorable, younger sisters, not so many friends, and grandparents who had no troubles both being there for me, but partly ruled the whole family by giving us a guilty conscious to get their will through.
Moved to my father (in another town) in my teens, hoped for stability and a better life.
Moved to my own apartment at age sixteen, got through school with low grades (but I did it), and started working right the day after I graduated.
Moved back to my hometown at age twenty, got two lovely sons during the next three years, worked, studied, worked a bit more and started my own company at age twenty seven.
Twelve years later, I was both married, divorced, had my third son, got divorced again, and finally I hit the big, hard wall with the speed of lightning it self. Had to shamefully leave my beloved business to my colleague, and just crawl away and hide from everything but my children. Total breakdown, both physically and mentally.
How could this be? Strangely this came as a heavy, ugly surprise to me, I was totally unaware of the life I lived.
That breakdown is now four years ago. And that's where my story, my life, really started.
By building a new ground, a firm, solid one this time, I slowly began (and still is btw) to take my life back, I began to make choices based on what I needed, what my soul needed.
I'll try to get you all a good, fair view of how a sad soul actually can heal, hopefully I can help someone out or at least point you in the right direction <3
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