gardening/day three

Today was a public holiday, and we put it to good use.  SO and his dad did a fair bit of weeding in our front garden yesterday, so today we followed up by planting new plants (all free, courtesy of the in-laws’ prolific garden), throwing some wettasoil about the place, and fertilizing with sheep poo.  SO and his dad did most of the hard work, while I weeded the lawn and supervised.  SO’s stepmum was also there, giving advice and deadheading various plants that needed it.  After a busy day, the front garden now looks respectable, and hopefully our neighbours will start speaking to us again now that we’re not dragging down the suburb’s property values.

I also visited my mother this morning.  It was all a bit stressful as her fiance J was moving all his stuff in today, so there were family members all over the place helping out, as well as various boxes and furniture, and Mum was not happy.  I find it awfully tough dealing with her when she’s like that as she gets so shrill, it hurts my ears.  And my head.  The good news was, my brother was there, and the moving finished up shortly after I arrived, so we sat down and Mum finally started to calm down.  It took a while, though.  She runs on sheer nervous energy.  However she and my brother are both well (as is J) and it was good to see them.

I’m doing better on the drug switch today.  No nausea or visual disturbances, and I’m still feeling okay (ie. not sinking into the black hole of incapacity to move or think).  I’m also not too short-tempered, which is good.

 Back to work tomorrow.  I’m kind of looking forward to it, and kind of not.

day one

It’s hard to believe that, even at nearly 33, firsts still happen.  Like the first time visiting Melbourne; the first time eating Korean food……the first time switching between SSRIs. 

Today I began my reduced dose of escitalopram (Lexapro) – down to 30mg - and started on the fluoxetine (Prozac) dose of 5mg.  Didn’t feel any different for about three hours, then some nausea and visual disturbance set in.  I dealt with it by having a nap which seemed to help.  Not sure what I’ll do if it continues into the work week, but for now it seems manageable.  Thank god.

I’ve switched from venlafaxine (Effexor) onto Lexapro before, in January 2008.  This was a very long process as I was going from an SNRI to an SSRI, so I had to be almost completely off the Effexor before starting the Lexapro.  This time is different – there’s a lot more overlap between the Lexapro and Prozac.  Also, I’m nowhere nearly as bad in terms of my depression as I was in early 2008.  Thank god, not suicidal this time.

So yes, we’ll see how we go.  I’m still scared, though.

update

Yes, I’ve been MIA again. There was a good reason – SO and I were in Victoria.  We spent three days in Ballarat, and three in Melbourne. 

We were in Ballarat to catch up with my lovely friend M, the single mum of three kids under five.  (Just pause and think about that for a moment.)  She recently turned 30 and had a bash to celebrate.  We normally wouldn’t travel for something like that, but with the divorce over the last year or so, she’s had a hell of a time and we wanted to see her.  Anyhow, it was wonderful catching up with her and the offspring, all of whom are completely adorable.  She was so happy that we came over, too.  She told me that after she dropped us off at the train station to go to Melbourne, she had what she called ‘a sook’.  Poor darling, it would be so good if she were closer to us, but Ballarat is where her family is, and they help her out with the kids more than we would.

So yes, after Ballarat we went on to Melbourne.

I never said I was domesticated

 

2 As a 1930s wife, I am Very Poor (Failure) Take the test!

 

This is 2 out of 100, not 2 out of 10.  Maybe my score was lowered because I indicated I’m okay with cooking dinner in my pyjamas.  Whoops.

back on the rollercoaster

I saw my lovely psychiatrist, Dr W, yesterday.  (He is lovely, I’m not being sarcastic.)  Long story short, he wants me to go a fortnight on my current drugs as they are, and if I haven’t picked up by then, I have to switch from Lexapro to Prozac (fluoxetine), going up to 20mg per day by the end of the tapering.

Of course, this is what I expected and dreaded.  One of the unfortunate things about mental health drugs is that there’s no specific cure.  If you get an infection, there are antibiotics you can take.  If you have a mental illness, there’s a whole range of potential drug based solutions, and no way to tell what will or won’t work for you.  Even biology and genetics do not act as predictors.  So for example, my mother responded well to Effexor for her depression; it didn’t work for me.  My brother responded well to Lexapro; it apparently doesn’t work sufficiently for me over the medium to long term.

I’m scared.  Dr W outlined a number of different future scenarios with me.  Best case, the Prozac might be ‘the one’ – kind of  like finding your true love, but harder to achieve.  Alternatively, Prozac may not be ‘the one’, but another SSRI might be.  Other options include switching between SSRIs when the conking out process begins.  That is, when the edges of life blur, colours change to grey, and life is an indifferent affair altogether.  Past switching lies the murky ground of augmenting an SSRI with another drug.  I know enough about mental health drug therapy to know that if we get to that point, I will be in a very small group of sufferers for whom there is no really effective solution.

So yes, I’m nervous.  And scared.

still not sure what’s happening

The title refers to yesterday’s post title.  I think I’m waving, at this stage.

Today I made an appointment to see my psychiatrist, which is (very fortunately for me) tomorrow afternoon.  Thank the gods for whoever cancelled their appointment.  I’m not looking forward to seeing him.  The last appointment I had, he basically said if my current dose (40mg lexapro) didn’t fix it all for me, that I’d need to try something else.  This, of course, means tapering off a (relatively) effective drug, and tapering onto something that may or may not work.  Fun times.

Luckily, today was so busy that I didn’t have any time to dwell on this.  Unfortunately, I spent all of it either dealing with the suicidal manager situation, or the potentially ‘going postal’ psychotic employee.  At least the day went quickly I guess!

So yes, another day survived.  I did something which was therapeutic when I got home, though.  I got into my daggy trackie pants and weeded the front garden bed for about an hour and a half.  I felt great at the end of it.  However the high had worn off by the time I had my shower and a big drink of water, so it’s not a permanent fix; but at least I felt good for that ninety minutes.  It was nice to have that tight fist of anxiety in the pit of my stomach relax for a while.  It’s back now, but I had a break from it, which was good.  I may have to garden every night after work, as a stress relieving tactic, weather permitting.

waving or drowning?

My name is Petrona, and I’m clinically depressed.

Most days, the fact I’m depressed is only one of the many facets that make me up – overweight/married/brunette/musical/depressed…. the list continues.  But there are some days where the depressed quality moves to centre front stage, and the other aspects of my personality fade into the background, becoming a Greek chorus which acts only to reinforce the central character’s role.

This is one of those days.  I’m supposed to be at work, but I’m not.  I woke up with a sore throat and a sore ear, so I stayed home.  When I woke up, mid-morning, all that was left was a blank sense of hopelessness.  On days like today, I wonder if I’ll ever feel ‘normal’ again. 

The ability to function effortlessly is underrated by most of the people, most of the time.  When you can’t bring yourself to eat, even when you’re hungry and food is only five steps away, functioning is a struggle.

I can’t think of what has brought this on.  Maybe it’s the close proximity of my father’s birthday and Father’s Day, reminding me again he’s not here?  Maybe it’s the succession of ’social’ weekends we’ve had lately, where I’ve had to use up all my resources in being nice to people.  Or maybe it’s my job, although I don’t think it’s that simple.  Maybe it’s just a down period, as you get with depression, which is just part of the illness.  Who knows.  And really it’s not like knowing would make a difference, as I couldn’t do anything to change or avoid any of the above.

I am completely numb, robot-like.  I feel hopeless and helpless.

Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.

my job

I was inspired by this post, by the lovely Lola, to write about my own job.

I also work for a government department, which consists primarily of white male paramilitary activity.  I’d love to own up to the actual department, but it wouldn’t be advisable for my job health.  Anyhow, within this department, I officially resolve interpersonal issues.  Bullying, harassment, discrimination, victimisation, the whole bit.  In reality, most of my ‘clients’ come to me with interpersonal issues that don’t fall into any of these categories.  Typically, we’re talking personality clashes.

My role in all of this is to listen to both parties, try to resolve the issue/s informally through various means like mediation, etc, and if necessary, conduct formal investigations.  In order to actually get any resolution, I need to be able to correctly read highly stressed situations, and be able to respond in a way that will help achieve resolution.  I need the patience of Job, the observation skills of Patrick Jane, and the counselling skills of a clin psych, together with the ability to represent the organisation in a good light, even when its actions could be considered blatantly negligent. 

As a result of the confidentiality of my role, my knowledge of the organisation, and my friendship with the company’s psychologist, I’m often put in delicate situations.