Scrambled

I have notes and notes filled with blog post ideas. Ideas that are probably pretty great. Ideas that I will write at some stage, some point in the future but not right now.  I can't grasp them, it hurts my head to try.  The words, they are elusive.  Nothing is making sense and it all feels a little surreal.

Imagine your brain as a place filled with worker ants.  At the moment my worker ants have taken speed.  I tried to find a picture to represent it but I gave up after 5 minutes.  Nothing quite felt disorganised enough. Nothing represented the chaos that is my brain at the moment.  I have so much IN my head and no way to grab it and get it out.  I feelt like a spectator to my own inner workings.

No doubt this too shall pass but at the moment it's fucking insane.  I can't concentrate, I try and it's too hard.  Everything is scrambled and filled with static.  I want to share the ideas that I have but the path between my hands and my mind is filled with obstacles. 

This is a short one, to let you know where I am at...normal viewing will resume soon.  Until then I leave you with this 

Self Harm Doco

*The following post and video may be triggering to those who are experiencing self harm urges. Please stay safe and if you are at all feeling at risk please contact someone*

Lifelife Australia: 13 11 14

Alternatively contact your nearest emergency department.

I don't often post twice in one day but this one couldn't wait until tomorrow.  This video was tweeted by someone I follow and it's a great insight into self harm.  There are stories from a person who self harms, as well as professionals who work with them.  I really enjoyed listening to the information presented by all parties.  

I hope that it will reach someone who doesn't already know these things.  If it teaches just one person about self harm, then that is great.  It's possible to change the world, one person at a time. 

http://www.harmlesspsychotherapy.com/webbuilder/pages/Hurting_to_heal

For more information about the film project click here

Stigma Within Stigma

Stigma.  It's everywhere and it affects everyone. Mental illness still in the 21st century is clouded by stigma. There are people suffering in silence because they believe asking for help is a sign of weakness. Imagine having your head filled to the brim with despair and disorder and having no where to go. The removal of stigma around mental illness has come such a long way in the last 20 years but we still have so much further to go.  

Amongst the mentally ill there is still stigma. I've lost count of how many times I have said to myself that I need to keep my mouth shut, need to buck up and deal with it. This is something that I have been dealing with personally for 11 years. Yet I still tell myself the same thing that I hate hearing from others.  Things that I would never say to anyone else. 

Self harm has a whole different level of stigma.  It's a stigma within a stigma.  Even those who suffer from a Mental Illness, who engage in activities that many think are outlandish, ideas that stray from the norm, see people who self harm as some kind of person to be revered.  There have been many conversations that I have been involved in, in an inpatient facility where other patients have struggled to see the need and desire behind the action of harming oneself. 

Society sees people drinking to excess, and almost turn a blind eye.  It's seen as people blowing off steam, almost a societal norm.  They are seen as coping mechanisms, nothing more.  People who drink to excess every weekend are 'ok'. However they are doing the same thing that people who self harm are doing.  Hiding the pain, replacing it with something else.  Yet people who physically harm their flesh are seen as monsters, attention seeking and sometimes just plain stupid. 

Self harming is a coping mechanism. It's a dysfunctional one, I will admit, but it is one nonetheless.  However with so much stigma around it, people are covering it up, pretending it doesn't exist.  Why NEED to talk about this.  We NEED to say it's ok to tell someone that you aren't coping.  We NEED to treat the symptom not the behaviour.  A person who self harms is not a monster, they are simply reaching for help when their words don't work.

Sanity Saviour

Depression and other Mental Illnesses can zap you of any energy or motivation you have.  Sometimes the medications used to treat these can have an even worse effect. I have never made it a secret that I don't like housework. So I wanted to share with you what I do to make things easier each day. Things that make things run a little smoothly.
 

1. A lot of people fold their washing as they take it off the line, I take it one step further.  I take the clothes off the line in order of whose clothes they are.  Then when I come inside, all of the clothes are already in piles of whose room they belong in, meaning that I put them away straight away.  It takes a bit longer out at the line...but then again it's quicker than a giant Mt Washmore.
 

2. Devil Spawn has a bath for at least 30 minutes every night. I use this time to talk to Papa Devil on the phone. Also when I'm up to it, I use the time to tidy away Devil Spawns toys and do the washing up. He's happy and I get some quiet time. It's a win/win situation.
 

3. On days that I know are going to be hectic or just plain hard I make dinner in the slow cooker. It means that we get a decent dinner and there is usually left overs that I can freeze for easy dinners later.
 

4. When Devil Spawn goes to daycare, I make his lunch the night before.  I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, this means I have to do as little as possible when my brain is still foggy.
 

5.  After Devil Spawn has a bath at night, I dress him in a shirt for the next day. Then again, in the morning while still in a foggy, not really wanting to be awake daze I can leave the house at a reasonable time. At least on the days when we have to go somewhere.
 

6.  Daycare Days are my days. I do what I want, when I want it.  I don't pressure myself to do anything. I take them as my days to relax and regain myself. 
 

These are my sanity savers. They help me get through the week, the day, the hour.  I don't pretend to have all of the answers...I just do what works for me.
 

What are your sanity savers?
 

Linking up with #IBOT

Generalisations Can be Harmful to Stigma: Psychiatric Hosptials

After BB posted the link to the article of a person's account of their friends stay in a psychiatric hospital, it got me thinking. If you would like to read the article then it can be found here.
 

I really struggled with the gross over generalisations that were made in this article.  Things that could easily be seem as scare mongering.  Imagine being a person whose psychiatrist has suggested you have some time in a psychiatric ward and you read this article. It's likely to make you shy away from even thinking of the prospect.  Being inside a psychiatric facility isn't easy, it's far from it but that is because you are working on issues that are plaguing your mind, stripping yourself bare and starting again. A psychiatric facility is sometimes the only safe place that you can do that.
 

I get the impression from the article that the writer's friend was in a private facility. Something that I have no experience with.  There were somethings in the article that did ring true for a public hospital but they were still gross generalisations.  I have seen patients who looked like walking zombies.  These patients were violent when not medicated. I have also seen these patients months down the track, once the medication is settled and they are a completely different person. They have gone from a person with delusions, suicidal behaviour, someone who couldn't function in society, to someone who you could sit down and have a conversation with. They are someone who can string words together. They are the good outcome of the psychiatric facility. 
 

Comparing the modern day facilities to One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is just the tip of the iceberg.  While some nurses and doctors really shouldn't be in the profession anymore as their passion is gone, this is no reflection on the end result that a stay in a psychiatric ward strives for.  The author saw a glimpse in a persons journey.  She had no idea how far they had come or how far they had to go. 
 

The comments of the writer about her friend being 'normal' except for needing to be in a psychiatric facility are extremely harmful for the fight of stigma removal. Everyone is 'normal' until they suffer from life event that renders them helpless.  There is no shame in needing to be hospitalised. 
 

‘Everybody hates being here. People talk about killing themselves, not because they want to die but because they want to get out of the hospital’, said my friend Julie.
 

I have no idea on the amount of times that I have been admitted but I would say it would be over 20 times.  Some of these stays have been for a month at a time.  Not once have I seen a patient express these words.  I do wonder if they have been twisted. It was a common thread amongst depressed patients that they just wanted to get 'so that they could kill themselves' and so the hospital kept them in. It was not the hospital itself causing these thoughts, but the depression. They were already suicidal before coming into hospital and saw the people who were trying to help them as one more road block to their desire to be gone from this world.
 

The author of this article has no medical training, and yet commented on the medications that her friend was allowed to take.  The Drs and Nurses in a psychiatric facility want things to run as smoothly as possible.  They are not there to make your life difficult (even though it may seem like it when you are being admitted) but to keep you and the other patients safe.  They will give you the medication that will fit your medical needs. Just because one med worked for another, does not mean that it will work for you. 
 

This whole article just did not sit right with me, especially being from the friend of a friend in a psychiatric facility's perspective.  She was an outsider looking in.  She had no idea the issues that the other women were facing, or why they looked scared and unsure.  It can be pretty daunting to go into a strange place, even without suffering a mental illness. Add to the mix anxiety and you are bound to get a few people who look like a deer caught in headlights.  It may have come across more realistic if the friend had written it.  Seeing a glimpse of a ward, during visiting hours is not the same as staying in the ward.
 

The article has really done nothing to help the stigma that people feel about the 'looney bin'.  It saddens me that in 2013, we are still facing such close minded views. Views of those people who are looking from the outside, and get to go home to their cookie cutter life at the end of the day, not realising the damage that their words have done. 

The Physical Side of Mental Illness

It's no secret that having a Mental Illness is fucking hard. It takes over every part of your life, until you start to wonder where you end and the illness begins.  However what about the physical side effects. Not just the tiredness and lack of motivation, but the long term effects. The effects, that once you are stable on meds, still come back to bite you in the arse.
 

A lot of people who have a mental illness need to be on medication to stay stable. For some people they will be on that medication for the rest of their life.  These medications can have long term side effects.  These can include softening of the enamel on your teeth, restless leg syndrome and sensitivity to sunlight.  For these people there is no alternative. You take the medication that works the best with the least crappy side effects. 
 

Another swell physical side effect of many anti-psychotics is weight gain and increased appetite. Yep because I hate my body enough already without ballooning to twice my size while deep throating the entire bakery because you just never quite feel full enough. When I was on zyprexa I put on 10kg in 7days while still exercising and eating how I normally do. 
 

When you can barely drag yourself out of bed every day, and most days you don't then the finer points of personal hygiene fall by the wayside.  Teeth brushing falls to the wayside. Showers only when you need to leave the house. Food involves things that are easy to make, generally coming straight out of a packet. All of this, coupled with medication that softens the enamel on your teeth, means that a few years down the track your teeth are going to be shit.  No amount of making up brushing will stop it because your teeth are the only part of your body that doesn't regenerate itself.
When I felt myself on the cusp of letting go, I would go walking, late at night, barefoot. I didn't care about myself and the damage that it was doing at the time.  I would walk across glass, anything that would cause pain.  As a result my feet are now super sensitive. Even standing in good shoes for longer than 30 minutes hurts. It feels like my bones are bruised.
 

I have scars from my wrists to my shoulders. My arms are nothing but scar tissue. This makes a few things difficult. Taking blood was already a pain in the arse, now it's damn near impossible. Pregnancy was fun.  I can never escape the looks. I love summer but feel more comfortable in Winter. I can wear long sleeves, I look like any 'normal' person. I don't have to deal with people who think that I am blind and can't see them pointing at me.
 

Do you suffer from a Mental Illness or does a family member? What are the long term side effects that you have witnessed.

Sleep is for the weak...apparently

It's finally the end of the longest week in the history of long weeks.  That also means that it's FFS Friday time again.  Sarah is handing the reins over to her hubby this week so pop over and see what he has to say! 

Two weekends in a row now Devil Papa has said that he wants to spend some boy time with Devil Spawn. Two weekends in a row that has involved him having a 5 hour nap FFS
 

It was raining Monday so I couldn't take transport to daycare so I decided to keep Devil Spawn home and have a movie day inside. It was a great idea, at least for the first hour FFS
 

Devil Spawn sleep dodges like you wouldn't believe. Monday night he was screaming so much about not wanting to go to bed that he vomited. I had just told him to come out into my bed. He vomited all over me FFS
 

Wednesday morning Devil Spawn decided that 3am is a perfectly fine time to start the day FFS
 

He crashed without a fuss at 630pm Wednesday night NO FFS
 

He woke up at midnight and the only way I could get him back to sleep was by holding his hand. Of course my arm took this opportunity to do it's weird twitching thing. Every time my arm twitched it would wake him up. FFS
 

Devil Spawn slept until 8am on Thursday morning NO FFS
 

I finally had some for thought and bought some snacks for after Devil Spawn goes to sleep. I haven't felt like any of it FFS
 

I accidentally deleted the account that I use for my commenting system. This deleted all of the comments associated with it on the blog including everyone elses FFS
 

I went to get my renewed Mental Health Plan on Tuesday. My doctor told me to make the most of it because she wasn't writing anymore. I should be over it by now according to her FFS
 

This was after me having to cancel a psychologist appointment because of her dragging her arse about writing it in the first place FFS
 

I need to find a new GP who has some sort of experience with Mental Health who also bulk bills. The chances are pretty slim FFS
 

I still haven't heard from the public Mental Health System about my referral that was sent in September. Not even a letter to say that I am on a waiting list FFS
 

What's been pissing you off this week? Have a whinge in the comments so I don't feel like the only one here. 

Silver Linings Playbook

I went to see Silver Linings Playbook today.  I just couldn't let it go without sharing it with you.  It was a beautifully orchestrated movie. A movie that spoke to me in ways that I don't think a movie has ever done.  I felt part of the story, I found myself immersed in the story line, hoping for the same things the characters did.
 

I'm a bit of a sucker for movies and books about mental illness so I knew that this was a movie that was going to be on my 'must see' list.  I am always anxious to see just how a director has portrayed the mental illness, how 'real' it feels.  I don't like comedies about mental illness. They make me feel disgusted that so far into the 21st century we are dealing with 'making fun' of things that people everywhere, everyday struggle with. I can assure you that they don't think it's a laughing matter.
 

Silver Linings Playbook was the first movie that I have ever seen that really portrayed mental illness in a respectful way.  The director made you fall in love with the characters, despite their 'damage'.  I could really relate to the characters, they were real people, people who you could imagine living next to you, people that you've met. In fact Pat Jnr reminded me of some of the patients I have encountered during my inpatient stays. 
 

The talk of medication was something that I myself have done countless times with other patients. You scope each other out, figure out who is the 'crazier' one.  It's always the other person.  Which kind of adds to your own delusion.  The struggles of the family were also raw and gut wrenching.  The family were doing everything they could to help their son, and nothing seemed to work.  Robert De Niro was  a surprising addition as Pat Snr. I teared up right along with him when he poured his heart out to his confused son. 
 

Even if you don't have a mental illness yourself, I think you will be touched by this story.  A love story with a twist.  A story where you find yourself sitting on the edge of your seat, hoping he gets the girl.  This movie really offers insight into the lives of the people who both suffer from mental illness and those who love them.  The acting was superb and really gave life to the story. Nothing was over acted, it made you feel that things were that much more real. 
 

If you haven't already, I really suggest you go and see this movie. It will stay with you, it will make you think and it will make you feel. Take your tissues though, because it will touch you in ways that you didn't thing were possible. 

Here's the trailer, just in case you weren't convinced 

 

Self Worthless

I've  been thinking a lot lately...yeh, yeh I know it's dangerous but sometimes we have to do it, you know to be a grown up and all that.  What I have been thinking about in particular is the correlation between what we think about ourselves, deep down and how we conduct ourselves.
 

I don't think particularly high of myself. I have gotten past the point of completely worthless but only by a couple of points.  I still don't feel the love for myself, and it was kind of like an 'aha' moment laying in bed the other night that made me realise just how much it manifests itself into my life. How it shows in the things that I do and how I treat things.
 

One of the 'joys' of Borderline is that I tend to put people up high, above myself. This gets me into trouble and it puts me in the position of not realising when people are just rotten.  I am so eager to please, that I fail to see the shit people do and brush it under the rug because that is what I deserve. Then I look around, realise that I am losing the people who aren't shit and it's confusing. Something that I am working on, learning to trust my judgement and not feel that I am the only one to blame when a relationship goes sour.
 

This feeling however doesn't just extend to interpersonal relationships and how I portray myself to others. It also has an effect on how I take care of my possessions.  It hit me the other day that I take care of things that other people have bought me better than I do the things that I have saved and bought myself.  I even have the subconscious thought that it's mine so it doesn't matter.  A thought that I have about myself often. It's only me, what does it matter. 
 

I write my decisions off, I don't put my thoughts forward and just kind of go with the flow.  I pretend that it doesn't matter.  I want better for myself but I'm just not sure if I deserve it.
 

Do you suffer from the 'not good enoughs'? What do you do to make yourself feel a bit of worth?

Hiding in the quiet

Do you know what it's like to have too much noise in your head? When the world is too noisy and there is nothing you can do to quieten it?  You listen to music to try to block it all out, but it just makes you feel worse.  You feel agitated and messy. Nothing is right.  Everything is annoying.  You can't quite put your finger on what it is that is wrong.
 

The world is too hard, too harsh. It is easier to lock yourself away, to pretend it doesn't exist. You crave contact, but it's too much. You feel constantly on edge because you have concocted in your head a story that is more fantasy than fiction.  You imagine what everyone is thinking, saying. Laughter is meant for you, you become agitated, ready to snap at the first person who dares to look at you the wrong way. 
 

Waking is too hard. Your head is constantly heavy. It's easier to have your eyes closed. Easier to pretend that there is no one else there. Everyday is a blanket over your head kind of day. It feels too hard.  Simply getting out of bed feels like an effort. An effort that you struggle with.  An effort that you wonder if it's worth it. 
 

Have you walked on the beach, in the soft sand with thongs full of sand, up a hill? It's a struggle. Your body aches and you aren't sure if you can keep going.  That is what it's like everyday. Just when you think you are near the end, another hill appears. You want to give up but even that seems like too much effort. You look around, notice all of the mess piling up around you, knowing you should do something about it. Knowing that there is nothing that you could possibly do about it.
 

You can see the parts of your life that are suffering, know that there are things you should be doing.  You can't quite do it.  It's easier this way. But it's not.  Even keeping up a conversation is too much. You stay polite. Hiding away as soon as you get home. Keeping correspondence to messages and social media.  Plastering on a smile. Pretending you aren't dying inside.  

You want to walk away and never look back. Your finger is on the button. You want to make the call but know it will be pointless. Really. You need time out, time to gather yourself. Time where you don't have a little person to answer to. Time where you have no one but yourself to answer to. Time where you can just put the blanket over your head. Admit defeat and start rebuilding yourself.
 

Admitting it is the first step...it's all uphill from here.

What not to say to someone who self harms

After reading the post Kate from Kate Says Stuff wrote about 5 things you shouldn't say to someone who is depressed it got me thinking about things that have been said to me why well meaning people.  Not about depression, but about self harm and being in hospital. 
 

Here is my list of things to not say to someone who has just self harmed and/or has found themselves in hospitial.
 

1. Why would you do that to yourself, there are people out there who have it worse than you.
This is one of my biggest pet hates around depression and mental illness.  People are always quick to remark that there is always someone out there who has it worse.  Do they not think that we are aware of that...sometimes there is nothing we can do, its all about a chemical imbalance.  Everyone has different levels of being able to cope. What may seem small to you, could be insurmountable to another person.  Don't judge them, they have enough guilt as it is.
 

2. You did this to yourself, so you don't deserve to be treated with respect.
This is more aimed at medical professionals and I use the term 'professionals' loosely.  There has been many times when I have be stitched or stapled without anesthetic. Or they have done it so soon after administering it, that it doesn't have a chance to work before they start stitching.  Contrary to small minded belief, self harmers do actually feel pain.  A small minded Dr refusing to use anesthetic is not the same as an act of self harm. 
 

3. People who self harm are people to be feared.
The key word in the term is SELF harm. We don't set out to directly harm others, we may indirectly hurt loved ones emotionally, but very rarely does an act of SELF harm involve another person.  I was removed from UNI housing as the UNI was afraid for the safety of other students.  Another example of how far small minded stigma spreads.
 

4. Why are you in the 'looney bin' it's full of 'crazy' people.
To put things a bit simply...in order to want to harm yourself to 'feel better' you have to kind of be a little bit crazy. Also, the other people in hospital are no different from your friend, they are lost like them. Their medication might have stopped working, or they fell into old habits and they found themselves at rock bottom again.  Hospital is a place to gather yourself, you won't be instantly better, but it helps to get yourself back on your own two feet.
 

5. I won't visit them or call them because they might want to be alone.
Don't make this assumption.  Hospital is a lonely place, the days seem to tick by so slowly.  There isn't much to do other than to be lost in your own thoughts.  At least not in the public wards I have been in.  Make a phone call. Sometimes even a 5 minute conversation can make someone feel like there is people out there who care about them.  Why is it that when someone is in hospital for a medical issue, people have no issue in going for a visit but as soon as someone is in the 'looney bin' then they are something that is to be feared.  Step outside your comfort zone and make someone feel a bit special.
 

What can you do to make your friend feel better?
The truth is there might not be much, but just being there, judge free can be enough.  Lending a listening ear and letting them know that they aren't alone.  

Obsession

I've talked before about my struggles with food. Food and I have never had a good relationship.  I could list reason after reason, point to some obscure moment in my childhood where it all started but that's not what this is about. No, this is about obsession and the hold it takes over you.
 

I can't really pinpoint the moment when it turned from flirting to obsession. It was so subtle I hardly noticed the change.  Eating 'normally' was never something that I did. I am an all or nothing kind of girl. I swing between eating nothing and eating all of the food in sight.  Which is probably why my weight yo-yos so much.  Disordered eating is that one step up, it's when it turns to obsession.
 

I hadn't regularly eaten lunch at school since I was 14, the year I turned 17 however it got 'serious'.  It started off as a 'health kick'.  Adding exercise to my routine. Then it wasn't enough. The food got less, the exercise got more. The weight started to drop off. School work suffered. I honestly have no idea how I managed to graduate.
An obsession consumes you. There is no room for anything else. 

You are exhausted all of the time, you pull away from friends.  I became my obsession. Every waking minute was filled with thoughts about much had I eaten, how much exercise I was going to do, when the next time I was going to eat.  Even though I had ridiculously reduced my calorie intake, my thoughts were still obsessed with food. I would allow myself one thing to eat a day. I would spend hours thinking about what that one piece of food could be.
 

I rarely slept. If I ate too much I needed to punish myself.  Too much could be an apple. I knew the calorie value of a food by just looking at it. My math skills greatly improved, pity I didn't use them for my schooling. I might have done much better.  Anything above 6 hours sleep during the week and I was doing well. No wonder I was a bundle of nerves.  Going off at the slightest thing.  My body was starving of all the essentials it needed and all I saw was things to make me push harder. 
 

It seemed to end as soon as it started. Sneaking away like a thief in the night. 

Linking up with #IBOT

Body Love

If the 'fashion world' is to be believed, plus size starts at size 12-14. I call fucking bullshit! How on earth are we supposed to portray to our children that size isn't everything, when a world that is so dominant to a teenager is telling them that they are 'overweight' at a size 12-14.  There is so much outrage...and yet nothing is done.  

When will it be that a woman is recognised for her brain, her voice, her passion and not the size of her bra, shirt and short short skirt?
 

Loving my body is something that I have always struggled with and continue to struggle with.  It doesn't matter what size I am...I hate it.  I stand in front of the mirror, poking and proding, picking out things that I do not like.  I have always felt a strong disconnection between my body and my mind. My mind is strong, my body is weak. 
 

This isn't about hate though, this is about love.  I don't hate my entire body, I don't know if that is entirely possible. Even at my lowest of lows, when poked and prodded I could eventually come up with something that I liked.  As I have gotten older, I have realised the strenght that my body has. The things that I have put it through and it's come through the other side virtually unscathed.  Every weekend I thank my liver for being a fucking trooper.  That bastard puts up with a bashing!
 

I have lived through OD's that if left untreated could have done severe damage, drank things that were intended for cleaning purposes only and still my body is reasonably ok. I have reflux that hurts like a bitch when I forget my meds but other than that, it's doing ok.  I had someone lace my drink with turps and yet all I felt was a couple of cramps. Like I said my body has copped a hiding.  It still does the stuff I want it to do! It might put up a hell of a protest but we get there in the end.
 

I have cut it, burnt it and scratched at it.  I have tried to destroy my body in any way I could. Still it's here, doing the shit it's supposed to do.  It might not look the way that I want it to look. Does anyones?
 

I birthed a mother fucking baby out of my body.  I felt like a beach ball with legs, and still my body did everything that it needed to do.  It created this little Devil Spawn. It was amazing and scary all at the same time but my body did it.
 

Do you love your body? Has it kept you in awe at the amazing things it can do?
 

Link up for #RCThursdays below.  This is the last one for the year so lets go out with a bang :)

The importance of sleep

Any parent will be able to recite to you the effects of sleep deprivation.  Whether it's a long term issue or one night after months of being a perfect sleeper, we've all felt it.  The term walking zombie comes to mind.
 

Sleep is so important to good mental health.  Of course it's always easier said than done.  When you have sole care of a small child, you can't just pop a sleeping pill and hope for the best.  At least not without knowing how well it works first.  The trouble with not being able to sleep is that for me it's often too late to even contemplate taking medication...I have enough trouble getting out of bed in the morning as it is.
 

A few years ago, before Devil Spawn came along, I couldn't sleep...for 5 days straight.  I laid in bed, closed my eyes and nothing happened....for 5 days.  I had been taken off all sedative medication and had no access to any.  I even tried alcohol and nothing happened.  My brain just refused to switch off. I was at a loss as to what to do.  On the 3rd night I went to A&E. After waiting for hours, I was told to go home, I was nothing but a drug chaser. If I was a drug chaser then I would have already slept...you know because I would have drugs.  Rinse and repeat for the next night.  Both nights I had to wait to see the psych team. Both nights I was accused of being a drug chaser. Both nights I was given nothing.  By this stage it was up to day 4.
 

I had called the Crisis Team, they told me to go to A&E, it was fruitless. I was at a loss as to what I could do.  My brain was refusing to switch off. My eyes burned from being open for 4 days. I was very close to snapping. I covered an entire wall in my room with paper and wrote ramblings, that spanned the whole wall. A kind of brain splatter on my wall. None of it made sense.  Still I couldn't sleep.
 

I had a small amount of hope (or I was a glutton for punishment) and went to the A&E again.  It was now day 5. I din't have much faith, but I needed sleep and I was willing to do anything at this point.  Anything legal that is.  I was in luck...the registrar who was on duty that night was someone who knew my history...something that the other doctor could have easily checked and seen that I have never had an issue with drugs.  He couldn't believe that I had been ignored so long.  He wanted to admit me, I just wanted to sleep, something that we all know doesn't happen too comfortably in a hospital bed.  He had no hesitation in giving me a wafer type medication to help me sleep. A wafer is a medication that dissolves as soon as it hits your tongue.  An easy way to avoid giving me a script, which is what the other doctor was apparently trying to avoid.
 

After 5 days, I sleep deeply and long.  I felt refreshed and like I had control over my body again. 
 

Snore Australia states the effects of chronic sleep deprivation as "feeling tired, irritability, slurred speech, blurred vision, memory loss, inability to concentrate, episodes of confusion, hallucinations, nausea, impotence and reduced sexual drive. "  They also state that extreme sleep deprivation can lead to psychosis.  Unfortunately the only way to 'fix' sleep deprivation is to sleep.  Something that can be easier said than done, especially when you add small children into the mix.
 

The website How Did You Sleep says that the importance for sleep to mental health is paramount. "Sleep allows the brain to take in new information and strengthen our memories.  The quality of your sleep can have a significant impact on your mood, energy level and ability to concentrate.  It can affect your work, cause relationship problems and make it difficult to complete simple tasks.  Sleep can also affect our mental wellbeing, immune system, and other health-related issues. It is crucial to our health that we learn to sleep well."
 

Do you have trouble with sleep? What do you do each night to ensure that you get a good nights sleep?
 

Linking up with Jess for #IBOT

Unbearable

I've made no secret of the fact that I am struggling lately.  Things have started to take an all new 'low' though and something has to give.

 

I'm barely making the basic living needs of both Devil Spawn and I.  I am barely able to get out of bed each morning. This shit is mother fucking hard and I'm sick of everything being an effort.

 

I nap most of the day, to avoid the reality that is my life at the moment.  I close my eyes and pretend it doesn't exist.  I ignore Devil Spawn.  It's just too hard.  Then I stay awake most of the night, relishing the alone time.  If Devil spawn has gone to sleep at a reasonable time that is.

 

I struggle to cook dinner.  Devil Spawn and I are living mostly on a diet of take away and sandwiches.  This is not something I am proud of. I do want to change it.  I'm taking small steps. Teeny, tiny smaller than baby steps.  It's just so hard when your entire body feels like it is made of cement.  It's an effort just to get up.

 

Personal hygiene has fallen to the wayside. Anything that takes too much energy is cast aside.  I feel dirty. I don't care. I don't see the point. I don't care enough about myself.  If I could I would stay in bed all day, in my pyjamas, staring at the ceiling. I'm done. I can't do it.

 

Today was the first day in a long time that the feelings bordered on unbearable.  I relied on closing my eyes and pretending the world didn't exist.  I contemplated hurting myself. I felt sick at the thought. I hung onto that feeling.  It didn't help.  I scoured the house, looking for something to use as a 'bandage'. My perfection, the only thing stepping in the way.  I held onto that thought for dear life.  I considered calling the Crisis Team and we all know how fruitless that would have been. That is how 'real' shit got.  It was unbearable.  The only thing that kept me going was my ability to close my eyes...pretend it didn't exist.

 

I'm holding on by a thread. Things have to change. I just don't know how.

Self Harm FFS

Hi! This week I decided to do FFS a little differently and did a Vlog.  I was scared as hell and it took me about 50 takes to do.  Devil Spawn also kept running from my bedroom to the bathroom through the whole thing.  I haven't rewatched it for fear that I will delete it, so here I am in all my rawness.

Those who self harm may find the following Vlog triggering.  If you or someone you know is at risk of self harm please seek professional help.

Linking up with Dear Baby G 

Emotional Cost of Parenting

 As I have stated in numerous earlier posts, I struggle with the mothering gig.  Especially the emotional side.  Most days feel like a giant mind fuck and I am ready to hide under the blankets and never come out again. 
 

In Part 1 of this Two Part series I covered the physical costs of becoming a parent. Part Two will be all about the emotional responsibilites of becoming a parent.  Something that you never fully appreciate until you become a parent.  You can work in childcare and still not fully comprehend the emotional toll having a small person who you are completely responsible for 100% of the time.
 

One of the things that scared and continues to scare me most is that this little person depends on me for absolutely everything.  There is no handing the child over when you need a sick day.  This little person is your everything and they think you are their entire world.  A baby in simple terms is a completely selfish creature.  They don't care if you are sick, have only had 3 hours sleep or are hungry enough to chew your own arm off, they want your time, love and attention.
 

I think one of the hardest things as a parent is seeing your child sick and there is nothing you can do about it.  It could range from a common cold to a life threatening disease but you will still feel like you are completely helpless.  For me the first cold was the hardest.  Devil Spawn was only a couple of weeks old and he snuffled and tossed and turned in his sleep.  There wasn't much I could do but seeing him being so uncomfortable was heart breaking. 
 

There have been numerous studies performed on the importance of getting enough sleep to encourage good mental health.  Babies...they don't care how many studies you've done, they want up and they want up now.  Overall Devil Spawn has been a pretty good sleeper.  He slept from 8pm until 6am from about 3 months onwards and would have a decent nap during the day.  All that changed at 18 months. He decided to scrap the daytime sleep. Me? I wasn't so ready but finally admitted defeat when I realised that no day sleep meant he was in bed sound asleep by 7pm.  That was up until about 8 months ago. He decided sleep was for the weak. One night surviving on just 3 hours sleep and was up and at 'em the next day like it was nothing.  Mummy on the other hand was ready to kill the first person who crossed her path.  11pm was an early night in these parts.  We muddled through it and just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.  I don't question it and am just loving the return of the 7pm bedtimes.
 

Tying in with the physical costs is the emotional guilt of providing the money for those costs.  Unless you are heartless, than you WILL worry about where the next meal is coming from.  As your child gets older you will also begin to worry about the *wants* that you can't provide.  Now this isn't a given, if you have a career that pays well, or you and your partner both do, then this won't be such a big issue but we all have to start somewhere.  The funny thing about chilren is that they don't always come when you are expecting them.  If we waited until we could afford them, then we would never have kids.
 

I'm linking up with Jess for IBOT :)

My life would be different

It's Thursday again (phew where are the weeks going???) and we all know what that means right? It's Reader's Choice Thursdays.  This week I did things a little different and created a poll on my Facebook Page for readers to choose.  The winner this week is:
My life would be different if I'd never met...
 

This topic really took a lot of thinking.  I have so many wonderful people in my life that I wasn't sure who to write about.  So many people who have made an impact on my life, impacts that are both good and bad.  I decided to stick with the good thought and chose to write about one of my best friends. 

When I was growing up I always had friends, but I needed my space. I couldn't handle being in close quarters to anyone for too long, it would drive me crazy.  I don't really keep in close contact with any of my childhood friends.  I am Facebook friends with them and occasionally catch up when I am at my parents but that's about it.  I wasn't the easiest person to be friends with when I was a teenager.  More so than most teenagers.  I was bat shit crazy for most of it.  Once I finished school, we didn't really hang out much.  We all went our separate ways and started our lives. Me...I was hellbent on ending mine.
 

Fast forward to 2007 and a near fatal OD. I was in a coma for 3 days, in ICU for 4 and then transferred to the Mental Health ward when I stayed for a month.  Two weeks into that month I met my best friend.  She was very standoffish at first and I've often told her I thought she was a cow for the first couple of days she was in there.  Slowly the ice started to break and we took great delight in pissing off the nurses and other patients. 
 

She's been there for my ups and my down, down lows.  For the first time I have a best friend who I tell absolutely everything to. She is the only person who knows everything that goes on.  Most of the time she knows more than Papa Devil about the way I am feeling. Why? Because she knows what I am talking about.  For the first time I have a friend who 'gets' it.  Self Harming isn't easy to deal with.  Having someone to talk to who knows the desperation you feel when you need to cut, that it isn't all about attention is so valuable. 
 

We've now been friends for almost 6 years and still as close as ever. We speak most days, usually sending each other hilarious memes to describe our days.  My life definitely wouldn't be the same without her.  Sure I could ask for a more normal friend but where's the fun in that ;)

No offence Monday...but you suck

It's Friday again wooo! We all know what that means! It means it's time for the weekly whinge fest that is FFS Friday.  I haven't left the house for most of the week due to being sick (FFS) but somehow the world still managed to piss me off!
 

On Sunday night 60 Minutes Australia did a story on Self Harm.  The story was pretty well done.  It was surprisingly done with sensitivity and care.  As usual however the arsefaces came out of the wood works and commented on things they didn't know or want to understand. People like this are why there is still so much stigma around any kind of Mental Illness behaviour FFS
 

Devil Spawn has had a persistent sniffle for the last week or so. He passed it on to me. I felt like death warmed up Monday morning. My child free day was spent in bed not because I want to but because I had to FFS
 

Monday afternoon I went to pick Devil Spawn up from Daycare. I was walking to the bus stop and my thong broke. I went dick up and then had to hobble across the road with no shoes on FFS
 

I was running late to the bus stop and say the bus go past me. I saw a woman standing at the stop (my stuck up neighbour) I started to run and yelled stop. She ignored me and the bus drove off after picking her friend up.  The next bus was not for another 30 minutes and I felt like I was going to cough up a lung FFS
 

I finally got onto a bus, dressed like a bogan because I was shoeless. I also had to pick Devil Spawn up with no shoes on. It was Bogan-esque all round FFS
 

By this stage I was well and truly over the public transport system and I decided to give Papa Devil a call to get a lift home because where we caught the bus is across the road.  He left his phone at the other shop. He drove straight past us. I then had to deal with Devil Spawn tantrums about not getting to go with Daddy FFS
 

I had to wait another 30 minutes for a bus with Devil Spawn yelling at me the whole time FFS
 

This all happened on Monday FFS
 

The next two days were spent laying on the couch trying to nap while Devil Spawn destroyed my house.  I still don't have the energy to clean it all up. It looks like a toy tornado has gone through FFS
 

After two days of lazing around and feeling any better for it, I really didn't feel like cooking dinner so Papa Devil took us out for Maccas. It was quite possible that we received the worst customer service in the history of customer service. It really didn't make me want to leave the house again FFS
 

Thursday we finally ventured outside the house to Mums Group.  Devil Spawn acted like, well, a Devil Spawn. FFS (Lucky I have an understanding Mums Group)
 

On the way home from Mums Group the driver of the bus we caught decided he needed to flex his manhood and do a bit of road rage.  It shat all over my worst experiences of public transport. He tried to run a guy off the road. If you want to act like a dick, do it in your own car, not when you are driving a bus of people FFS
 

Did you have a FFS moment this week? Let me know in the comments so I don't feel so bad about whinging like a big skirt.
 

Well that's my FFS for this week. I'm linking up with Dear Baby G  so head on over to read some more FFS from the Blogosphere. 

Epidemic

*The following post may be triggering to those who are struggling with self harm thoughts. Please make sure you are feeling safe before reading.*

If you or someone you know is contemplating hurting themselves please get in contact with a GP, go to your closes ED or give the wonderful people at Lifeline a call.

On 60 minutes on Sunday, they did a story on Self Harm. I will admit that I was apprehensive about it and didn't actually watch it until it was available online. After I knew that other people had watched it.  After I knew whether they had portrayed it in an understanding light.  I just knew that I wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with it, if it was anything else.
 

I've made no secret of the fact that I have self harmed in the past.  It is something that I deal with on a constant basis. It is something that I will probably deal with for the rest of my life.  Was it easy to stop? No. Not at all.
 

Self harm has been toted as 'attention seeking' among other derogatory things.  Things like that do nothing for the shame and guilt that someone who self harms or has self harmed feels.  The worst comments I have received have actually been from 'professionals'. The pearlers have been when presenting to the local Emergency Departmet with injuries that needed medical attention ranging from 'so', 'you know you're doing it the wrong way' to when presenting with self harm thoughts and not actions 'just come back when you've done it'.  Emergency Departments are the first port of call for mental health patients and really need to be trained in ways to deal with these patients. Psychiatrist Professor Graham Martin talks about it during his interview.
 

"I hear of therapists running away. I hear of people in hospital running away. Nursing staff who can’t face up to somebody who has cut themselves deliberately. Because they’re not important, and they did it to themselves, and they’re just attention seeking. I don’t believe any of that. I think when somebody goes to these lengths, they need help."
 

One of the most common questions asked of someone who self harms I think is "What made you think to pick up something to hurt yourself with".  There is no one moment when you think oh yep this is what I am going to do. It is something done out of desperation, of feeling like there is nothing else that will work.  When I started I never in my wildest dreams thought that I would still be struggling with urges 10 years later.  That 10 years later, whenever things get shit, it is my first port of call.  One of the girls interviewed for the story I think sums it up perfectly.
 

" I don’t remember why I chose self-harm. The chaos and the feelings that were all trapped inside my head got to a point where I needed something."
 

I was quite impressed with the way that the story was portrayed in such a sensitive way.  It didn't poke fun or minimise the behaviour in anyway. I just hope that this story was able to reach a few people, to help them understand.

60 Minutes Story