Turning in a full circle

Turning in a full circle was completely impossible for me. I couldn't do it. It's not that I thought something bad was going to happen if I did, it's just that I couldn't. I felt like I had to be reset, I had to turn back the other way, no matter how much of the circle I turned in. I couldn't explain it. Often I would just keep it to myself and 'reset' myself without mentioning it. Other times I would kick and scream if someone tried to turn me in a circle. I still can't explain it, I just know that now I can do it. You might say, I've come full circle.

OCD isn't just about repetitive hand washing. It is about reoccurring intrusive thoughts, a need to do things one way, the inability to do some things that may seem silly to others. It makes you stand out and it makes you shrink into the background. You can seem like an annoying person, a fussy person and a pedant, but you cannot help it.

None of my OCD issues have been so bad that my life has been terribly affected, but this doesn't make them insignificant. Many of them have come and gone at different times of my life and now are something I look back on as the old me. The first instance I can remember is when I was probably about 5 years old and I woke up in the middle of the night absolutely convinced that I had to put all of my things under my bed, I was so driven by this that I got up and did just that. I did think that something would happen if I didn't and I couldn't risk that. I don't remember any fallout or anything after that. I just remember stashing everything away, Care Bear and all.

From junior school onwards, I was unable to throw out any wrappers or waste from my packed lunch. I had to take it home to throw it away. This was some overwhelming idea that everything in there was a gift from my mam and I could not throw it away or it would be like getting rid of that gift. This was easy to keep to myself and didn't seem to be something that would bother other people.

In senior school I made myself somewhat of a target as I could not enter my science classroom without touching the sign on the door. I would wait to be last in to the room if I had to, but I had to touch the sign. Obviously, other kids noticed me doing this, and being a target for meanness anyway, they revelled in trying to stop me from being able to touch that sign. I always did.

Later in life I developed an intense reaction if I was touched softly (for instance, if someone stroked my arm) I would have to wipe it off. If I didn't, I could feel where I had been touched, it would feel horrible, I had to get rid of it. I tried to stop this by sitting on my hands, waiting as long as I could but I always gave in. This particular compulsion stayed with me the longest. I only seemed to overcome it after starting on my meds and taking steps to sort out my life. I gradually forgot about this. I don't particularly liked to be touched by people I don't know well, but I certainly don't feel the intense reaction I used to.

Not everything has gone away. What does remain is my obsessive thinking. I will dwell on something, think it over a million times, make up scenarios in my head that upset me even more. I cannot let something go once I have a thought. I try to bury it but eventually it will surface. I obsess about the tiniest of things, nuances, hidden meanings, things that may or may not have been implied, things that could happen, things that should happen, things that won't happen. This is behaviour that is ingrained in me and will be so much harder to change.

CBT taught me that I should challenge these thoughts and look at them from another perspective, which I do try to do, but it isn't often easy at 4am or when you have allowed yourself down a rabbit hole of thoughts. Though this will be the hardest to break, I know that I have been able to shake off other habits and I know that I will make progress. Maybe not fully and maybe not soon. But hopefully I will be able to turn these thoughts around. Perhaps even in a full circle.

Insecurity is my middle name.

Insecurity is my middle name. OK, so it obviously isn't really my middle name, otherwise my initials would spell PIS and I would be extremely insecure over that. Anyway, I digress. Insecurity and anxiety go hand in hand and feed each other. Low mood can result in negative thinking which can result in insecurity which can result in anxiety which can result in low mood which... you get the idea.

Insecurity comes in many forms, personally, mine manifests itself in an unfaltering belief that I can't do things well. It used to stop me from trying new things, I just thought "Well, I'll fail at that, so why bother?" In recent times I have tried to work on this thought and turn it around. I have to admit, pretty much every time I have challenged this thought and tried something new, I have surprised myself. I am a perfectly capable human being. Yes, this surprises me.

I really have found myself having a lot more fun by being happier to try things. Even silly things like flying a kite. Year ago Pamela would have just sat and watched as someone else flew the kite. Today Pamela flies the kite like a boss and gets compliments from strangers while doing so. This gives me confidence. In your face, insecurity! But not all insecurities are so easy to challenge.

I am also extremely insecure when it comes to relationships, in all forms. This is described so well in the cartoon below by Sarah Andersen:

My insecurity tells me that no one could possibly like me enough to want to spend time with me, romantically or otherwise. I am surprised if someone asks me to do something, I am bemused that people want to be my friend and I am overwhelmed that someone loves me as much as they do.

Just like depression and anxiety, living with someone who is insecure is not much fun. Constant reassurance and affirmation is testing. Not that it is actually constant, I shouldn't be so hard on myself. There are just times when I get worried, maybe a little jealous or even needy. To some extent, this is just a normal part of any relationship. Again, as with all of these issues, it is just how they are dealt with that matters. Some days I am able to reason with myself that they are silly thoughts, other days I am consumed by them and cannot help but listen and believe that I am not enough. No amount of reassurance will change my mind.

I have no reason to be so insecure within my relationship, but logic doesn't feature too highly in my thought process when I am down. It is simply another layer added to my issues which nestles nicely amongst the others. Again, I don't think I am particularly unique in feeling this way. I know that you don't need to suffer with depression or anxiety to feel insecure, but I also know that it is an extra burden to carry if you do.

Unlike my depression and anxiety, I don't expect my insecurities to go away. I know that they will be fed less when the Black Dog goes to bed, but these are things that I just have to work on myself. No amount of meds, exercise or sleep will make a difference. Maybe I will always feel that way, but for now I will continue to try new things and to challenge my thoughts and always remember that I am so loved. Always.

Travel anxiety - My train of thought

This weekend my anxiety returned in full force. I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, struggling with all my might not to slip, to stay on my feet and not let it overwhelm me. I had gotten used to my anxiety coming in small bursts, so a weekend without respite was almost unbearable. Time slowed down, it became an effort to have fun when I should have been having plenty and my mind raced constantly. This step back was a blow to me, I was disappointed with myself and worried that things were going in the wrong direction. So what happened? And more importantly, what did I do about it?

It all started with a misunderstanding.

A simple mix up of words, a wrong tone here and there, someone gets mad, someone else get mad at them for being mad. You know the story. Any kind of fall out makes me hugely anxious. I panic and ramble, I try to make things better and ultimately make them worse. Even when things are better I can remain highly on edge, terrified of saying or doing "the wrong thing". I find it hard to sleep. Add into the mix that I was travelling alone for a weekend away from home and you have the perfect recipe for one anxious lady.

Travelling. I love travelling. I have been round the world, far and wide and seen more of the world than most people. So why the hell does the thought of getting on a two hour train journey alone worry me so much? For me, the train is a stressful place, where people push and shove, sit in your reserved seat and talk unreasonably loudly on their phones. There is plenty that can go wrong with a train journey and it usually does.

So my time came on Friday when I had to leave to get the train and, as usual, I arrived at the train station way too early. 45 minutes is way too long to sit and stress, believe me. The train was of course, delayed. Due to the delay, they hadn't put out the reserved seat signs - cue chaos, pushing, shoving, snapping and shouting. After a hellish few minutes, I was in my seat and I only had to tell one woman she was being extremely rude (she admitted to this and apologised) and back up another lady who took to telling me how rude someone else was being. It was all going on.

As I mentioned in my last anxiety post, I find distraction is a good technique for my anxiety. Knowing this, I had purchased myself a Marvel Avengers activity book. Yes, I am 32 years old, no I do not care what anyone thinks.  Here are some of my awesome drawings:

This proved to be a great help, it was distracting and fun. Once I was settled into my seat and in full on Avengers mode, I no longer felt so anxious. I reached my destination in one piece and all was well.

But it's not just the travel that bothers me. Being away from home makes me anxious. I had been unable to speak to my boyfriend and that made me anxious. I was distracted and distant and constantly felt on edge. I wasn't having the fun I should have been having. This made me feel bad. At times I found myself clock watching, counting down the hours until I could go home. This wasn't what I wanted, but I couldn't help myself. I just thought that as soon as I walked in my front door, I would suddenly feel better.

I got a better night's sleep on the second night and I found myself feeling a lot better. My friend's little girl; a beautiful bundle of innocence, optimism and giggles, was a great help and distraction. Her hugs went a long way, as did her unconditional and uncomplicated love. Taking walks in the park, chatting with my friend, eating well and great deal of lounging were also a great help. I started to feel more present and human. I had taken a step back from the cliff edge.

My journey home was less fraught. But walking through my front door didn't cure me. Thankfully. I wouldn't want it to, I don't want to end up stuck here, unable to see the world. Though I will always love coming home, I love going places more, seeing people and proving to myself that I can get past this and even if I don't, I can work my way though it. One cartoon at a time.

How far we've come

It can often be so much easier to focus upon the negative. To only remember the bad things, to only think about what you failed at rather than everything you have achieved. I think that this is the same for anyone, but for anyone with depression, this can be a really big issue and a very hard habit to break. I think we all forget to take time to think about what has gone right and, as my counselor always encouraged me, to 'celebrate the small things'. So I think it's time for us to see how far we've come 

Yesterday I had a several cups of tea and a chat with a friend. I tend to ramble and over share and this was no different (I blame the caffeine) but something was different and it wasn't until I got home a few hours later that I realised what it was. Almost everything I had been talking about was something that I had overcome. It was past Pamela's issues and feelings. As much as I think that I haven't made any progress, I couldn't deny that I was pretty much a whole new person. Admittedly, I still had problems, but I was nowhere near the shell of a person I used to be.


This really got me thinking... How had I not noticed all of this change? Maybe it had been gradual or I had been too busy focusing on the fact that one bad day in ten had ruined the good days. I have real, tangible improvements and I can see this clearly when I think back to how I felt a year ago. This time last year I didn't want to go out, I barely slept and couldn't stand to be touched. I cried myself to sleep, spent a lot of time on my own and was so anxious about travelling anywhere it almost stopped me from going. I am pretty much the opposite of all of those things now. I can't deny it, I have come a long way.

That's not to say I am perfectly happy and don't have an entirely new set of issues, but some huge problems in my life have been left behind. I've shed some bad habits and I've replaced them with much more positive things and reached out to people so much more than I ever could. Being able to talk about this has really helped. Being able to get things off my mind not only helps me to empty my brain of all the noise, but also helps me to process my thoughts and realise that I am getting better.

There's nothing wrong with being proud of yourself and the the things you have overcome. It may be very hard to acknowledge them or even think about what they are and on some days it may seem like there is nothing good you can think of. But there is. No matter how small, you are making progress. I am making progress. I will continue to celebrate the small things and know that even on my darkest day, it is a step forward, away from past Pamela towards a whole new me.

What's the matter?

If only it was as simple as knowing the answer to that. It's not that I haven't asked myself that a million times over.  Some days you can at least know what pushes you over the edge - the proverbial straw, or more suitably known as triggers. But no two days are the same and what may make you laugh one day could see you in tears the next. So I can't help but ask myself: What the hell is the matter?

A few months ago I was at work and a colleague made a very small and well intentioned joke about me. I crumbled. I had to leave the room, the building, the immediate area. Any other day I would have made a joke twice as bad back at them, but that day, my brain just couldn't handle it. But breaking it down sensibly, it wasn't the joke itself, it wasn't even the attention directed at me. It was just the very point that I should have been able to laugh, tears came instead.

I cried three times at work that day.  I have pretty much cried in front of all of my friends during the last year as well as several colleagues and many, many strangers. I am pretty much no longer ashamed of it, what's the point? I might as well accept that it is going to happen. But I am very much aware that it must be grating on certain people. "Woah there she goes again... here come the tears!" I'm tired of crying, but sometimes I just can't stop it. But no one wants to be the crying girl at work... Again.

But people don't cry for no reason... do they? Sometimes I bottle up my feelings, put on a brave face and announce how "ok" I am to anyone who asks. This isn't good for anyone and all it means is that you hide away that feeling to deal with later. As soon as you find an opportunity to let out any emotion, out it all comes. So my crying at the joke was most likely to have been crying about something I had buried a few day earlier, that I thought I could ignore. Maybe I was just crying because I felt crushingly sad and sensitive. I guess the problem is, I don't know. If I did know, maybe I could stop it.

Trying to explain how you feel or why you feel that way is impossible. It sends you round in circles and quite frankly makes you feel worse. But people expect an explanation. It's reasonable enough. They just want to know what made you feel the way you do, they assume that it has a reason and starting point. An absolutely awesome summary of this can be found in Hyperbole and a Half's  'Depression Part 2' it's way better than I could explain it.

As I explained in my post about anxiety, I am quite aware of many of the triggers I have for that, but my depression isn't as obvious or easy to solve. I do know some things that can make me feel worse; being ignored, being let down, being left out. However, these are just things that no one would find pleasant. The difference is the way that I deal with those issues. A depressed mind latches onto them, spirals them out of control and creates a situation way bigger than it ever should be. It's harder to recover from and the sadness lingers with you for days.

In CBT we learn about how to challenge negative thinking. How to change thoughts before they get to such a stage. It's great in theory but not always so easy in practice. It has been one of my biggest challenges so far. Trying to stop a thought before it becomes too big for you and snowballs. The best way for me is to talk things through, to be honest at all times and try to bring up any issue I have at the time. Leaving things til a later date doesn't work for me, I obsess and stress and work myself up. This in turn makes me anxious... the vicious circle of anxiety strikes again.

I guess what I just have to accept is that I don't know what the hell is wrong and I probably never will. I have to accept that this will frustrate myself and others and I will just have to deal with that as it comes. My chemical imbalance makes me who I am, and if that is a pain in the arse sometimes, then I guess that's who I am. I will continue to challenge my thoughts, to try to reason my way through my triggers and not let them over take me. But more than anything, I will just continue to be me, pain in the arse or not.

What's anxiety got to do with it?

I have mostly talked about depression so far, and although it may be the biggest of my issues, the Black Dog isn't exactly alone; it's just the leader of the pack. I have been plagued by anxiety in many forms for as long as I can remember. It was something I had just accepted and always thought was just who I was. How wrong I was.

Anxiety is just as difficult to live with as depression for both the sufferer and those around them. It is difficult to quantify or explain. It happens for no reason and for every reason. It wakes you in the night, follows you around at all times and steals your day from you.

Where depression makes me unbearably sad, tearful and lonely; anxiety makes me edgy, twitchy and short of breath. Just like depression, it can rear up at any time and it doesn't discriminate. There is no absolute trigger for it but I do know some things that affect me more. My personal demons are: travelling alone, being left alone, too much noise, waiting for things. To be honest, I'm really good at creating situations in my own head which feed on my anxieties and create a vicious anxiety based circle. Which I imagine looks like this:

My anxiety presents itself as fidgeting, frequent weeing, awkward dancing, talking incessantly, teeth clenching, pains in my arms and in the worst cases, panic attacks. I asked my boyfriend how he knows when I am feeling anxious and he said that I look lost, like I'm not in the room. I used to think I was good at hiding things - maybe I'm not. 

Sometimes the strangest things can bring on my anxiety, for instance, listening to music that I don't know can sometimes make me feel so on edge I have to turn it off. Thinking about my anxiety just to write this is making me feel terribly anxious. It has no rhyme or reason. What I can say is that since I started on the Citalopram, my anxiety has greatly decreased. For that I am grateful.

I have also had acupuncture. I know a lot of people think it doesn't work, but for me it does. Anxiety makes you tense. My back is a broken, knotted testament to my mental health. Years of teeth clenching has left my jaw aching daily. The acupuncture helps with this and my sleep issues as well as trying to get exercise whenever I can (I won't lie, this is not as often as I should... or even could.) Staying active does help. But for me, the best thing is distraction.

I can't say how many times I have been grateful for someone just talking at me. Distracting me with their words, letting me focus on them for a while, hearing their problems rather than my own. Being allowed into someone else's thoughts can be incredibly helpful every now and again. Just engaging my brain can be great - writing this is testament to that. I don't care if no one ever reads it (well, ok I do a little bit) but mostly I just love the distraction of typing this, rather than sitting on my own, letting my thoughts take over.

I have a colouring book. I hear that they are quite en vogue. Well, I'm no trend setter, I just really like to colour in. Again, it takes me away from my swirling thoughts and stops me from making a mountain out of a molehill (on the simplest of days) or from potentially harming myself (on the most complicated of days) It is full of beautiful, complex pictures that require real concentration. It is one of my favourite things to do and actually brings me a fair amount of happiness.

My most recent technique, when I feel like I may be slipping, is to go for a walk rather than going to bed. I have tried this only once and it was, in part, successful. But practice makes perfect, fresh air will always be better than moping under the duvet (ok I'm still trying to convince myself of this, so forgive me if that doesn't convince you either.)

But, you know what, I think the best distraction and thing that helps me most is a good old fashioned hug. Having someone's arms around you and feeling like everything is going to be ok has to be one of the best ways of coping with this. I am lucky to have someone who knows me and knows when I need a hug (and always obliges when I ask for one) as well as family and friends who are always there to give me a real or virtual hug whenever I need it.

I feel so much more able to reach out when I am crippled with anxiety, where I feel like I can't when I am crushed with depression. I don't want to say that it is the kinder of the two illnesses as they are both horrendous, but I do know it is the easier of the two for me personally. I still have to fight it and I still have bad days. But I know that I can control it somewhat. I just hope I can stay within the lines.

I drew some cartoons

A while ago, I drew some cartoons. 

What people say:

What people ask:

Things that I say:

We need to talk about...

Taking your own life. It's a touchy subject, taboo almost. People are uncomfortable talking about it or listening to others talk about it. It's almost like you're in a Harry Potter book, you must not say it's name... Well, I think that's pretty stupid. We're all grown up here, so let's talk about suicide.

As I have said in my previous post, in November last year I decided to kill myself. My chosen method was to step in front of a train. I don't know why, but that is what my brain told me to do. I always favoured transport. I would stand a little too close to the edge of the tube platform, pause a little when crossing a road - just to imagine what it would be like. But that day in November, I (obviously) changed my mind.

I have had many conversations about this. I have concluded that I am not serious enough to go through with it. This is ultimately a good thing, but when you still cannot shake the creeping thoughts that it would make it all better, it becomes a struggle. However, more and more, I found myself stepping back from the platform edge, moving back from the side of the road, actually grimacing at the traffic, rather than watching it longingly.

I thought I had made progress. Well, to be fair, I had, but then I slipped back. I found myself in hysterics on my kitchen floor and all I could think about was slitting my wrists. Where had that come from? That was never my plan, How come all of a sudden my brain had a new tactic? I guess it had consigned itself to playing safely in the traffic, so it needed a new angle to come at me from. It even took me by surprise.

I have talked to people about this. I know I don't want to die. I just sometimes feel like I no longer want to be. There is a big difference. It just gets so hard to be sometimes. I get tired of being tired. People have asked me why I didn't call them when I have felt this way, but it would be almost impossible. It's very hard to explain, but at that moment, even though you probably need someone more than ever, you just can't reach out. I am grateful for whatever it is in my head that stops me from carrying out these thoughts, I can only hope that it continues to save me.

I'm also pretty sure that knowing I have these people who want to help me, also helps me to hold back from acting on these suicidal thoughts. Sharing my feelings and not being ashamed of how I am has helped me so much. Every time my boyfriend takes my hand to cross the road, I appreciate just how much he helps me to stay level. I know that even though I might not want to act on them, these thoughts will keep creeping into my brain and it will still take a lot to live with them.

As long as I am able to talk about it, I will be ok. It shouldn't be something that is ignored or seen as taboo. Just like Voldemort, the more we talk about it, the less scary it is.