Lisa doesn’t know that I’m writing this post and I’m just sitting here wondering what to write and if there is anyone out there still monitoring this blog :-) Anyway, I guess we can also use this to gauge if she’s still looking at this site herself!
So… I don’t actually have anything interesting to share, this is the same reason why my blog hasn’t had a new post since last year. So let’s just show you this picture I seen of a load of children holding up their olaf paintings.
There’s a few things about this, these children look to be about Sophies age, maybe a little older and some of the paintings are epic! Check out that one in the bottom left, Disney will be calling him up in a few years asking him to help out with the animation on Frozen 3. Sophie hasn’t really displayed a flair for art (Sorry little miss if you’re reading this!) but her output would I suspect be more in line with the kid next to this centuries answer to Van Gogh, a big blob of black and there’s probably two eyes and a carrot floating about in the mess somewhere. In a way though this kid is basically giving two fingers to the conformists and displaying his own portrayal of what really happens to a snowman in summer and that deserves respect.
Well that’s all I wanted to say for now! Signing out…
Generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) is an anxiety disorder that is characterized by excessive, uncontrollable and often irrational worry, that is, apprehensive expectation about events or activities.This excessive worry often interferes with daily functioning, as individuals with GAD typically anticipate disaster, and are overly concerned about everyday matters such as health issues, money, death, family problems, friendship problems, interpersonal relationship problems, or work difficulties. Individuals often exhibit a variety of physical symptoms, including fatigue, fidgeting, headaches, nausea,numbness in hands and feet, muscle tension, muscle aches, difficulty swallowing, bouts of breathing difficulty, difficulty concentrating, trembling, twitching, irritability, agitation, sweating, restlessness, insomnia, hot flashes, rashes, and inability to fully control the anxiety. These symptoms must be consistent and ongoing, persisting at least six months, for a formal diagnosis of GAD to be introduced.
It rears its ugly head most days it doesn’t care what I am doing, it comes consuming me with the irrational thoughts, the horrible feeling in my stomach that rises up to my chest suffocating me, debilitating me. I try to escape it, distracting myself with other things but it always seems to catch up on me. I really hate being in my own head sometimes, I know my thoughts are irrational but in the midst of panic they feel very real to me. I seem to be in a constant battle with myself all I want to do is get rid of the thoughts, the panic and try to live a normal (what’s that?)life.
I have days when I feel an impending doom hanging over me with no reason behind it. I have had to remove myself from Shops, the park, the cinema etc because I feel like I am going to pass out. This also occurs in the car while driving.
I have been seeing my GP for the last year but all he seems to do is throw meds at me. I have tried 3 different types now, including Valium. One made my anxiety much worse, one sedated me so much that I was unable to function which lets face it is not good when you’re a mother. They all made me feel like I was in a bubble detached from reality, (although my GAD makes me feel like this sometimes it’s not as bad as being in a medicated coma induced by chemicals) They turned me down for CBT (which i actually think may help a little) because I wasnt “bad enough” I would love for the decision makers to be in my head for a day!
When I’m in my panic bubble I can’t deal with anyone or anything, If I’m truly honest I am a complete bitch when I’m feeling anxious. It has done a little damage to my relationship with DH he doesn’t know what to do to help me anymore, I don’t even know how to “fix” me so I dont expect him to know what to do. I am thankful that he is here to support me, If I didn’t have him I think things would be worse.
I feel tiny and vulnerable and overwhelmed especially when there is lots going on around me.
From the time I wake up in the morning I began to worry constantly about every small detail of life.
The “comedown” (that doesn’t seem an appropriate word but can’t think of a better one) which follows an attack is almost as bad as the attack itself. A dreadful fusion of depression, exhaustion, despair, self-pity.
I have a constant feeling of unease. Like a haze at the back of your head.
Sometimes I am good for a couple of days, I’ll talk more, I’ll laugh more, sleep normally, eat normally, but then something happens like a switch turns off somewhere and I am back in the depths of GAD.
I am thankful for the up days because they make the bad days a bit more bearable, they reassure me that it wont last forever.
I had to recently come to terms with the fact that I am almost (am) 33 years old and should probably be dressing/acting my age. Mr T has been telling me to dress my age for a while now (cheeky if you ask me) I have resisted, I liked buying slogan t-shirts, my latest purchases have been 2 t-shirts with the slogans “I woke up like this” “Celfie” and “more issues than vogue” emblazoned across the front. I thought them thinking I’d look good or prehaps I still though I was 20 and trying to fit in with the “hipsters” I even though some hipster glasses even though i couldn’t actually see out of them. (They have now be gifted to my 11-year-old niece who thinks she’s amazing now) A few weeks ago I received a (misaddressed) La Redoute catalog, had a flick through and then went to the website. I like to think it was fate as they were having a 70% sale. My basket was getting fuller by the minute. I filled it with proper ” grown up clothes” I suppose being at the school gate with all the yummy mummies with their perfectly blow dried hair, amazing clothes and make-up sitting perfectly. Made me want to make more of an effort with myself, I always felt a bit well, trampy compared to most of them.
After checking my email everyday and basically waiting an age (it was just over a week but I’m not the patient type, It’s a McIntyre thing, none of us are patient) my massive La redoute package came. I have to say that i am pleasantly surprised at both the quality and sizing.
I have to say that I feel less slummy mummy than I used too.
Mr T send me a link to a piece on Babble a few days ago about being a SAHM, I found it very interesting and related to all of it. It was almost like I'd written the post myself.
I always found an immense pressure to prove to society and Mr T that I actually did stuff during the day and I wasn't just lying around in my PJ's watching JK (I hate that programme, but i do have a sister who I could imagine being on it)
Move over the working mums guilt, A SHAM's guilt is just as bad if not worse (that's my opinion). Yet no one seems to talk about it. I have felt this immense guilt for years, Constantly feeling that I wasn't contributing to society. Which I think in some part added to my depression, Here was my husband, (brain tumor and all) working his ass off to provide for us. I felt being at home just didn't compare. I hated when people asked me “so what do you do” Its got to the point where i tell people I'm a SAHM and a writer which is technically true I am 2 chapters into my novel.
A few of excerpts that I really related to in the post, you can read the full post here
I’ve felt the absurd need to pack a million and ten activities into my day so I could list them off to my husband when he came home in an attempt to convince (who really? Mostly myself …) that I was “productive.”
I’ve always been fighting the thoughts that I’m not doing enough or being enough. I’ve always felt I honestly owed the world some sort of explanation for being at home.
I’ve felt I had to bake pies so that the world would know I’m not a worthless member of society. I've felt the absurd need to pack a million and ten activities into my day so I could list them off to my husband when he came home in an attempt to convince (who really? Mostly myself …) that I was “productive.”
I’ve always been fighting the thoughts that I’m not doing enough or being enough. I’ve always felt I honestly owed the world some sort of explanation for being at home.
I often wondered if there was anyone out there that felt like me and It seems there are lots.
I am grateful to have a life where I am able to stay home and look after Sophie to be there for all her firsts, walking and now homework's.
So the last few months, basically since March haven’t been the happiest time for my family, which will explain my absence from all things blog related.
It was 6th March when our lives changed in a second, My wonderful husband had a brain tumor. We knew that there was a growth there but, no one up to that point had mentioned the word tumor. Nobody knew really what it was, previous doctors had said it looked like a birthmark others saying it may have been there from birth. The neurologist had us convinced that it hadn’t changed, So when the neurosurgeon said it had and called it a tumor I think we both felt sick.
The waiting for a surgery date was the worst, My anxiety was at an all time high, I was consumed with all things tumor related, all I could think about was.. He is going to have another seizure? Is the tumor turning into a bad one and he’s going to drop down dead any minute? If something bad does happen how will me and Soph cope financially? (that last one made me feel selfish) I did nothing but cry for the week after the hospital visit, some in front of Mr T some in private. I knew I had to be strong for him and we both had to stay positive. It was hard every-time I looked at him all I thought about was the tumor, people wanted to talk about it which was OK for the first week but I suppose after that I didn’t want to talk about it as much if that makes sense, I already thought about it enough that when I met friends or family I wanted to talk about something else, again probably a bit selfish of me.
We found out after more in-depth MRI’s that the tumor was in the area that dealt with speech and language, so Mr T had a speech therapist present throughout the operation.
After what felt like a year of waiting (it was only 4 months) the 22nd June came around. I could tell Mr T was a nervous wreck, so was I, we both waited patiently at home for a bed to become available on the ward, we got the call at 4pm and told to be in that evening. Meanwhile my mother in-law had arrived to help out with Soph as we wanted her to go to school as normal for the week. I came back to see him on the ward before he went down to the theater I don’t think either of us knew what to say, he was a bag of nerves, I would be too it I had to have brain surgery and he had to do it while awake.
Monday 23rd of June was the longest most horrible day of my entire life, minutes felt like hours, I held up pretty well until he wasn’t back on the ward when we thought he would be, I then began to fall apart thinking all sorts when they said he was still in surgery, did something go wrong? had he had a stoke of even worse? the nurses had to get me a chair, something about the love of your life being in surgery does make one feel a bit faint. My mother in law drove us to my mum’s which was close enough to the hospital if we needed to rush back. At 3.40pm I got the best call of my life, Mr T was out of surgery and it had all gone well.
I spent most of the week with him at hospital and I really couldn’t have done it with out the help my Mother in Law Grainne, I know people complain about their MIL but mine is brilliant! By Friday evening he was ready to come home which I have to say concerned me a little with the little seizures he was having. A week later we got the pathology results and its as good as it could have been, it was what they thought a low-grade Giloma, they got 80 to 90% of it out (when they went into the bit that was left he stopped talking) so they will be keeping an eye on it.
I am glad to say everything is going well and Mr T is back home with me and Soph apart from a really bad case of man flu at the minute.
Now I’m off to write a bit of my novel before dinner.
I started writing this ages ago and only getting around to finishing it now oops….
I had always felt that there was a book in me, but my self-confidence always stood in my way. I was too nervous to go to any creative writing class even though It was something I really wanted to do.
There is this amazing Interiors shop on the Lisburn road in Belfast called Maven, The first time I had visited it I picked up some goodies that I had won from a Facebook Competition. I fell in love and wanted to buy everything in the shop. This is going somewhere I promise :-)
The candle smells amazing and I will be back to purchase more, If I had the money I would pay Patrica to furnish my whole house. On my love list is a light from Donna Bates Design, a Marimekko teapot, The School of Life Emotional baggage Tote, abigail*ryan wallpaper and some Abigail Warner stationary.
I digress but you should go check out Maven for a world of loveliness.
Anyway they have an upstairs bit which they use for “Maven Sessions” one night while messing around on Facebook a link from their page caught my eye, “calling all flashers” sounded interesting so I couldn’t, not click the link. there it was staring me in the face a” flash fiction” event I got a little excited and realized there was only 2 tickets left so I rushed to Eventbrite and quickly booked my ticket. Then the nervousness, fear etc set in. “what if they expect me to write” “what if they expect me to read out my stuff in front of people” ” what if i get writers block and i cant actually write anything” etc etc
I arrived on the Monday evening and I sat outside in the car thinking “what am I doing, I cant do this, run away, go home. (self-esteem again!)
I forced myself to go inside, still thinking I was way out of my depth. I sat down with my little notebook and pen….
After the dreaded ” say something about yourself and why you are here” was over I felt more comfortable. For months I have sat staring at my WordPress editor with nothing to say. Going to this class has brought out my creativity and proved that I could actually write a book. So that’s what I am currently up to at the minute, writing my first novel. I have to say its been fun so far.
Hello, Its me! the one who owns this blog and who never seems to blog any-more. I’ll still here just been procrastinating (I’m only on here to get away from the mound of housework and to check that my blog isn’t in fact a figment of my imagination its been so long)
I’m sitting here as I do every Friday morning eating my toast and having a coffee, nervously waiting on my therapy session to start.
I’ve only been going to Mrs T for a few weeks and I realise I may have more problems than I originally thought or may I should put it…. my problems are deeper than I thought. Makes me should less of a mental case :-) she picks up on things about me that I don’t realise I do, I would go as far as to say that she knows me better than I know myself.
Last week when I visited her she asked the usual “how are you today” so I proceed to tell her about my really bad anxiety/panic attack due to what she has told me is generalised anxiety/panic disorder. Anyway she seemed almost excited when I was telling her about it. She’d just been to a training course and wanted to try out what she learned on me (guinea pig comes to mind here) She didn’t fully explain what exactly it entailed just that it would help to get my nervous system balanced and therefore lower the serverity of attacks when they happen. At this stage I am quite excited myself, anything that makes my attacks better i am willing to try.
We begin…. I am asked to look straight ahead to see if anything in my peripheral view stands out I spy a picture on the wall its the only thing that my eyes are attracted to. So we begin talking about it and how it makes me feel and within 10 minutes I feel like my bum and back where super-glued to the chair and everything in the room was a complete blur. The weirdest bit has to be when my body started moving my itself to the right you can picture me half of my body hanging over the side on the sofa lol. No actually scrap that… The weirdness thing of all is when the room came back into focus and I could only see 3/4 of the room there was a block on my right side!?! And then she kicked me out as our time was up! (A usual occurrence when we are just getting somewhere) anyway I left feeling not entirely in this planet but feeling like I didn’t have a care in the world, a fantastic feeling which lasted all day but…….
I went to bed as usual and had the most horrendous nightmares, they were terrifying and upsetting enough to wake me twice. In all my 32 years on the planet I have never had bad dreams like it.
Apparently this was something to do with Mrs T’s messing with my mind and brining things that are buried to the surface. I think I’d like them to stay buried and I don’t think I’ll let her do it to me again.