Last time I wrote a blog I admitted that I had been struggling. Admitted it. I should probably change the language around that, but it's what it feels like. I finally confessed to not feeling well as though not feeling well is something I need to feel bad about. It's really not.
Since last writing here, I went for an assessment because my moods seemed to be cycling pretty dramatically, and it causes other worries than anxiety. It's when you start talking about personality disorders and bi-polar, and quite frankly, I was really scared. It's a strange thing to be scared of, because knowing what it is doesn't change your experience of the thing, but what it does change is the stigma. I know there is a big difference between saying I have an anxiety disorder and having bipolar. I was relieved when the doctor told me she doesn't believe it's personality disorder of bipolar, because as much as it didn't change my diagnosis and it didn't change the fact that previous therapies hadn't necessarily worked, things weren't as bad as they could have been, and she was able to offer me different options than what my GP had offered, so that's progress!
Unfortunately, though everything in mental health treatment takes a lot of time. Between the time when I spoke to my doctors about having an assessment and the time the assessment appointment came was probably about three weeks. Three weeks doesn't sound like so long, but it was enough time for me to start feeling like I was approaching a more even keel again. At other times in my life, I would have simply said, oh, I don't actually need this right now. I'll cancel it. The good thing was I was uncertain about that recovery; I didn't trust it. I wasn't fully back to normal, I didn't truly feel like myself and like I was actually okay, so I knew that looking at treatment options was still the best thing for me, but the fear of that appointment was something else which made me start to cycle downwards (along with a few other things that were going on at the time). I had a couple of days, maybe less, of relief when they told me that they didn't think it was anything worse than my current diagnosis, but then I found that downwards slope again without even actively looking for it. I should point out, I never actively look for it...
The problem was when I tried to get an appointment with my GP, two things happened. The report wasn't with them and I didn't know if it had even been written yet, and the next thing was that the receptionist I spoke to wasn't the one I have spoken to before. I say Mental Health issues with sleep disturbance to the other one and she unblocks an emergency appointment for me that I would normally have to call at 8am for because she knows I won't be able to call at 8am and she knows I'm really not well. This receptionist was adamant I had to call at 8am. I get that people are different, she might be new, she might be more junior, but it was another barrier to me trying to feel better.
The upshot of it all was I started taking Citalopram earlier this week. I have been warned before that it's evil, that it makes you feel worse, that it steals your soul and feeds it to Satan's pet donkey... I've heard a lot of bad about it, but I've also heard a lot of good, and quite frankly, I needed to try something. Whilst I wait for therapy, whilst I wait for therapy to work, whilst I try and get back to the things which I know help me to feel better, I needed something to act as a crutch so I can get to do all of those things. I was exhausted, I felt lost and scared and in some ways beaten. Granted, taking the Citalopram I am more exhausted, but I know that that is temporary, and actually some rest is good for me. Granted, I am trying really hard to get back to a sleeping pattern that normal people recognise and not that is attributed to small winged creatures who hang out with Dracula, but I'll take what I can get at the moment.
In all of this though, I know this is not my lowest, and part of the reason I know that is because I'm still using 4thewords and I've just hit a 60 day streak. And that means a whole lot to me.
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