LHB Blog

A girl, a blog and a cactus named Pudding

Tag: Mental health awareness (Page 2 of 4)

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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Social Anxiety

Alternative title: Because the idea of interacting with people makes me feel sick … Even if said interaction is limited to saying “excuse me” to two old dears who are far too engrossed in their gossip about Derek and his weak bladder to notice that I’m trying to bulk buy bog rolls and that they’re in the way of the soft rolls … Needless to say, we now have the scratchy tissue. Way to go Anxiety! Nothing says home comfort like wiping your butt with toilet paper that feels like it’s made of poison ivy, nettles and acid!

I’m not sure what kicked this off … It could have been a particularly stressful time at work or the neighbourhood kids near knocking the door off it’s hinges at Halloween in search of sweets or the meeting with the Therapist (probably more so the events leading up to it) or my brain just feels overwhelmed all of sudden. Whatever is the catalyst is a rather moot point, because ultimately I’ve withdrawn from pretty much anything that involves associating with other people.

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Back to Therapy

**Not sure if there needs to be a warning but hey ho – I’m talking negative body image folks so heads up**

Alternative title: Because sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees. 

“And how do you feel about yourself?” She asks as she flips over the page of her notebook.

I wish she hadn’t asked me that. I sigh. I furrow my brow. The word is already there, on the tip on my tongue … Acidic. Abrasive. I really wish she hadn’t asked me that.

“I’m … ” I start, the tears already burning my eyes, I don’t want them to fall, I will them to stay where they are, eye balls swimming in them “… Grotesque”.

I say the word with a sickening level of warmth, as though doing so would cushion the meaning of it … It’s a word that my brain uses to taunt my reflection with, my brain never uses warmth.

The word just hangs there in the space between us, her eyes focused on me … I can feel them, I don’t meet them. It just stays there, along with silence … And I can’t decide which is more devastating.

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