LHB Blog

A girl, a blog and a cactus named Pudding

In which I blame Bill Bryson

Alternative title: I’m huddled in a duvet on the sofa, my partner’s hoodie acting as a comfort blanket, my face puffy from crying, with Millie-Mischief the Bengal patting my head in some weird consolation type thing (or maybe she just likes my hair – who knows what’s going on in her kitty mind) … And yet, part of my brain is wondering just where the hell I can get myself a Stephen Katz to go hike the Appalachian Trail with. 

To me that doesn’t seem unreasonable, to just simply pack a rucksack, select a 3-season tent, grab a shit ton of Jelly Tots (though I’d settle for Fruit Pastilles) and hike all 2,200 miles. Yep, 2,200 MILES. Total doddle that.

Except I’m the lass who whinged and moaned and turned the air a lovely shade of dark blue during her last jaunt up Helm Crag – which incidentally, is a drop in the proverbial ocean compared with the Appalachian Trail! Much like with running, I love the idea of it … But when actually running/hiking, I bitch for England about how unfair it is and how my poor feet are going to end up as giant blisters which will eventually pop and end up stuck to my socks.

Maybe I’ve got this all wrong …

Maybe I should be looking for a Bryson to hike with because clearly, I’m the Katz!

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Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder

Alternative title: Otherwise known as Anankastic Personality Disorder … Rolls right off the tongue that doesn’t it? 

Back in early February I mentioned the meeting I had with my Psych Doc in which he cheerfully informed me that as well as having Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) I also have Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD). They sound the same, but believe me when I say they’re not … They are two distinct disorders that in some instances can have co-morbid relationships.

Totally not one to do things by halves me!

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Hello Grief

Alternative title: I’ve been expecting you … 

I think I’ve been in denial, I’ve been trying to live as ‘normal’ a life as I can … Going to work, going to exercise classes, going for the 6am runs. Not really acknowledging the full extent of how my life has been irrevocably changed … How when my father passed away a gaping void suddenly opened up in my world that will never fully heal.

That was until I saw my counsellor … She opened the flood gates.

Everyone has asked me how my family are coping … My mum, my brother.

She was the first one to really ask how I was … And when she did, I felt the loss, the pain, the anger, all in one scrunched up ball. Crushed so tightly together that it was impossible to feel one without another. I’d held my emotions so close that releasing even a fraction of them was startling and terrifying.

But that’s the point of counselling isn’t it … To release them. To acknowledge them. To accept them … But that also means accepting that he is really gone. And I don’t want to accept that. I’m not sure how to accept that.

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Clomipramine and Me

Alternative title: Listen to your body!

As I mentioned last week there has been a switch around with regards to my medication following my recent diagnosis of Anankastic Personality Disorder (also known as Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder – OCPD) and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). I came off Mirtazapine without issue (except for not being able to sleep properly) and promptly started the Clomipramine.

Four days later I called my Psych Doc’s office in tears – the pressure in my head was intense, pain surging throughout my skull attacking whatever it came into contact with. I felt sick, I was sick. I stopped eating, I couldn’t manage even a glass of water. I had uncontrollable tremors. A jaw aching from being clenched, a grinding of teeth. I felt dizzy. I couldn’t sleep … And my Anxiety was kicking me when I was down with a heavy chest, prickly arms and the unrelenting feelings of panic and dread.

Something was wrong.

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