LHB Blog

A girl, a blog and a cactus named Pudding

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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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Introducing the Psychiatry Doctor

Alternative title: My Mental Health has thrown me down shit creek (again) without a paddle, or boat … Or even a sodding life jacket! My brain has kicked and screamed and bellyached at every opportunity (over the slightest of things) … And yet to many, I seem completely in control.

One of the few that does know that I’m suffering, is my new Psych Doc (Dr. C) as during our first meeting I was in floods of tears because my brain was telling me that I needed to check the handbrake on the car (for the 10th … 11th … 12th time!) and that by being in the waiting room I was being negligent and that someone would get hurt (they might even die!) and it would be all my fault … I’d already been back to my car twice and ready to dash for a third time when my name was called.

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There is no right way to grieve

Alternative title: I’m going to be channeling my inner Kanye West for the rest of this post so … Yeah. Not sure if you need a warning for that or if you just want to see what the heck goes down.

Since losing my dad to cancer a lot of people have been offering advice as to how they dealt with their grief. Some of it has been amazing, supportive and invaluable pieces which I honestly have taken on board … This post is for the pieces that were, well, less than helpful. They are the throwaway comments that leave a lasting impression of “what the actual f-?”

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