I haven’t posted in a while, mainly out of pure business doing other things and also lethargy. Here’s a catch up into the life of Dija.
Last week Saturday I almost passed out at work, I went grey and lightheaded, as the lights blurred together and the room began to lose solidity. I laid in the staff room, on the floor with my feet on a crate. It supposedly took half an hour for me to regain normality, even then my hand were still shaking. The reason behind it, I hit my elbow on the counter top at the till point, when turning round to ask a customer to come over to my side. I hit my elbow and almost fainted.
The bruise is still visible. It’s been joined by a wrist bruise. I can’t remember how I got that one. My legs are battered too. I look like I’ve been in a fight, which I’ve obviously lost. I feel aged with my aches and pains far beyond the twenty years I am.
I had my doctor’s appointment, she disregarded my pleas to change my antidepressants from Citalopram to Sertraline once more. Apparently I’ll get used to it, eventually. She wrote up a blood test referral and another prescription for 30mg of Citalopram. I went home and laid in bed, nodding off only a few times, before mustering the courage to go to the hospital. I hate the hospital. I hate the smell. The clinical feel. The lights. The crowds of people.
When I arrived at the hospital, 30 minutes before the blood test area closed for the day. I sat nervously waiting, scratching my wrist wishing the ground would suck me up or that I would spontaneously combust. My number was called. I took off my jacket and my hoodie, rolled up my sleeve and waited for the “little scratch” as the nurse described. My veins were difficult to surface and shared the same reluctant feeling as my mind. The “little scratch”, by no means little or a scratch, took five full tube with different coloured tops, left a mark and yet another bruise for me to add to my collection.
I rushed out of the hospital as soon as I could. I went to the library. I sat reading in a secluded armchair at the top of the stair, as my mind drifted between words on the page and the throbbing in my left arm. Two hours passed. I’d finished reading and decided it was time to start homeward bound to familiarity and the comforting solitude of my bedroom.
Anonymous asked: If times are bad for you, then you must remember this when you're facing loneliness. Relationships are tough as it is, and your situation doesn't help. But some day, someone will be able to love you regardless and help you past those boundaries. x
He loved me regardless of my illness. I just don’t feel strong enough to be in a relationship because I feel selfish for leaning on to him so much. I want to be able to stand independently, but it seems the more I try to stand to more I trip and fall. I’m just so afraid. x
My high points seem to be more and more short lived. The victories I make are more and more overshadowed by the demons of my anxiety.
I went to an event the other night for a student mental health group that’s just launch. I felt awkward there, I didn’t know anyone and even though I tried to interact with other it didn’t go so well. The organiser was really sweet, but I couldn’t help feeling an air of jealously towards her, because of her relationship. She could cope with the pressures of a relationship as well as having a mental illness. I couldn’t. I can’t.
I called my ex boyfriend last night, I just wanted to hear a comforting voice and he will always be a source of comfort and safety in my mind. He asked to meet. I agreed at first, but then doubt started seeping in to my mind again. The little airs of panic starting flaring up, igniting an inferno of angst within me. I cancelled and once more I became the source of his pain.
I just want to be held. I don’t want this illness. I want my mind to be normal. I want these thoughts gone. I want to be okay.
Today I had my haircut at the Sassoon Academy for a fiver. I mainly went as it was an affordable haircut and I wanted to do something for myself. My student stylist was a lovely girl from Italy who was originally from Cuba, her translator was really lovely too. She kept telling me how pretty I was. I wasn’t wearing any make up and felt rather frumpy, so this was a really nice thing to hear especially when I’ve been feeling so awful.
The senior stylist fell in love with my hair as he put it, and gave me his card to be his model when he does his teaching. I had about seven people crowding round me, telling me I was pretty and taking my photo. I felt like a celebrity (a shy one at that). Something about doing something for me and being made to feel glamorous, really upped my mood.
I went home and had a nap, I was rather exhausted. My sleeping pattern is still awful and I get tired so easily. I woke up, freshened up and went to my first counselling session. It wasn’t psychotherapy and I was so glad. I’m starting 12 sessions of cognitive behavioral therapy, then moving on to psychodynamic therapy. I’ll be learning more coping strategies and how to survive in this crazy game of life. I’m feeling positive and hopeful, it won’t be talking over the past in a game of snakes and ladders therapy anymore, I’ll finally be getting the proper help I need.
I’m not sure if it’s just me or if it’s the Great British weather, but I’m turning into an icicle. Or maybe a Snow Queen … I’d prefer that one. Anyway I’m not sure if it’s side effects or what. My poor colleagues at work had to endure me putting the heating on full while they sweated and boiled away.
My bosses have been more understanding and shortened my shifts to suit my needs. I get exhausted really easily, and my senior staff noticed this today and were really nice in reassuring me that I didn’t have long left of my shift. As well as letting me work in the back most of the day. Luckily for me too, it was BAFTA time and there was a fairly large row of lorries blocking the view of our shop, so not many passersby could see us.
Despite all of this I was still exhausted when i got home. I just wish I had more energy like a regular twenty year old instead of what appears to be an aged woman. I did manage to eat half a bowl of crunchy nut cereal with soy milk and a nice lunch of; two spicy bean burgers with mixed vegetables with a little bit of red pepper hummus. Which doesn’t sound like much but is quite a bit victory for me currently. So I’m counting it as one.
cloudsbleachedorangebycitylights asked: It's weird that your doctor is increasing your citalopram to put you on sertraline. I was in citalopram at 20mg and ran out so didn't take it for a couple if days and went straight to sertraline.
I wish my doctor would do that, they’re just putting me through further stress mentally and physically. One of my side effects to Citalopram is severe headaches which are worsening, as well as loss of appetite. I just wished they’d listen to me.
I went to my doctor’s to see if I could change the antidepressants they’ve put me on. I’m currently on Citalopram and am not having the greatest of times with it and want to try Sertraline if I can as I’ve been researching and it seems to be alot better. Although telling this to my doctor did not have the desired affect. My dose of Citalopram has been upped from 20mg to 30mg a day and I’ve been told I have to be upped to 40mg then weaned off the highest dose if I want to start Sertraline. Which will presumably have more undesired affects on my mind and well being. I’ve sleeping alot lately and find it difficult to get out of bed most days.