The work/life balance?..I just don't get it!

The work/life balance is something I have great difficulty in getting right.

I've never had to juggle it before - I've never really worked and in the space of a few years I've gone from literally just seeing my doctor fortnightly - zilch, to working and volunteering around 25 hours a week.

It's quite nice having something to get up for but it backfires sometimes. I'm a people-pleaser and find it very hard to say "No". Frequently at the expense of my health. I get intensely busy for 2-3 weeks, then I end up crashing in bed for a few days with exhaustion and burnout, each time cursing myself for my inability to put myself first for a change.

Putting 'me' first is not a thing I find easy. I'd rather everyone else was happy, content and thinking well of me. I never stop to think that I have little quality of life, or that it's damaging my health, and it's only as these burnouts are becoming more regular and the depressions accompanying them more severe, I'm realising I've got to do something about the whole situation.

But it's not easy to keep everybody happy (myself included) or to get the right balance.

Not having any structure can be equally as bad. When I find myself with a much needed free day, again I find myself in bed because I'm so bloody bored and don't want to do anything. I don't see the point of being awake which leads to another depressive spiral doubled up with a nasty agitation.

So what's the answer?

I take more care now in planning my week and scheduling my appointments. I used to be buzzing about all over town to several meetings in one day, but now I put them on different days which leaves me with more energy.

I'm still a bit lazy about the exercise side of things, but as it really helps with the depression, stress, the agitations, my immune in general and will finally get my therapist off my back to do more, I intend to make a real effort to put gym time in my schedule!

I now take 2 days off every week. It's something I've found hard and which I'm still getting used to.
When you work, you usually have set days off and holidays, but volunteering can be a bit different and the line is more blurred. I used to find myself going for months and months without a proper break and often I got worn down by it all. Sometimes, the more you do, the more people expect.

Of course, it's going to take a while before I get the balance right. Things don't always work and it will take a little tinkering before I get a lifestyle I'm completely happy with.

I'm still experimenting, but the days I don't have structure I've learned that going back to bed is NOT AN OPTION! I oversleep by hours and then wake up with that crappy, fuzzy, sore head feeling that can last well in to the next day. If I really need a nap, I set my alarm for 15 minutes, have my quick snooze and get up and continue with my day refreshed.

It's OK to have a free day, but a planned free day to do the stuff I want to do and not just sitting around for hours thinking about the darker things in life or doing nothing! Not good for my brain! Don't get me wrong..sometimes I do sit around contemplating the darker stuff, but I have given myself permission to do it, and only for a set time. This way I don't feel so guilty about wasting my time. On free days I do not think about work.

It took a long time for me to learn to say "No", and as time passes it's become easier.

I told someone recently I was reducing my hours slightly to make more time for myself and I was quelled by a raised eyebrow and the look of disapproval - as if I had done something wrong! They had gotten used to my obliging ways, and it was taken for granted if anything needed done, Kip would do it.

The irony is, since saying "No", I seem to have earned myself a little more respect from others, and the self-respect I have gained from the knowledge that I am taking time for me and looking after myself has increased substantially.

Kerry.

Imposter Syndrome..

I've just started a new job. My first job in 13 years actually. Not only did I think I'd never ever get a job with my past, or be vaguely capable of it but now my mental health experience is being used to help others who are now going through the same thing!

  

I've never really had a job before. Well..that's not strictly true...I wouldn't count the 6-week supermarket job (which I apparently loved, but have no recollection of) or a boring summer stint as a changing room assistant when I was 16. But at the age of 34, I find myself feeling totally unprepared for life in the workplace. 

My university degree was music..and let's face it, it's one of those degrees that you can't actually do very much with outside of the music world, plus I don't really remember that much of it anyway.

Looking around me when I was younger, a job was a thing that grown-ups did which they hated, left them exhausted, paid them very little money, and left them no time for their families, so why on earth would I want to get one? I have no idea where this mind-frame came from because I knew people who did love their jobs, and were very happy, but they were a minority. 

Naturally as time went on, a job was built up in my mind as one of those unattainable things - like sex before you have it. 
I went straight from school, then uni, then in to "the system" and as years and years went by the thought of getting one of those things seemed a million miles away and virtually impossible.

But I got one. And I got it sort of by accident and very unexpectedly..but that's another story!

The thing is (if I'm completely honest)..I feel a total fraud. I haven't got a scooby as to what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm naturally quite shy, and find the public aspect of the job very challenging at times - They must have made this huge mistake in hiring me, and will very soon be asking me to leave!

I confessed all to a colleague and was stunned to find she felt the same way despite being there years, and from asking round various friends and acquaintances it seems I'm not alone. 

There have been several times where I've taken fright and thought of giving it all up, but after years on benefits dreading very nosy taxi drivers, it's kind of nice to be able to say "I do this..I work for this organisation"..It really makes all the fear worthwhile...plus the feeling of self-respect and of finally having a place in the world..it's indescribable!

I'll stick with it and give it my best shot. I can't do any more than that. I'm guessing a lot of it is fear of the unknown, and a misconception from childhood that stuck with me. All I need to do is build up the confidence to take my first shaky toddler steps on to the ladder..but I'm sure I'll get there in the end - one step at a time.

Oh!..If anyone's interested - those nosy taxi drivers? I used to tell them that I was a pole-dancer which shut them up pretty quickly!

Kerry.

The Ludicrous side of Mental Health.. #003

Once I woke up from ECT feeling absolutely fine and wondering why it wasn't like this all the time! It turned out the ECT machine had broken down. I've always joked I wore the thing out...

The Devastation of ECT.

If you mention ECT - Electroconvulsive Therapy in the psychiatric world, (or indeed to those who are fortunate never to have crossed its path), you are sure to stir up an intense response whether your views are pro, anti or somewhere in between. The images it brings to mind are disturbing and it's very hard to imagine that there is still a place for it in this day and age.

In my day I was no stranger to the ECT department, visiting it well over 150 times. The term "ECT suite" as the department is known always makes me laugh - it sounds like some sort of luxury spa where you go to get pampered! I wish! A spa probably would have had more therapeutic benefit.

You can probably tell from my sarcasm that my own personal experience of it wasn't brilliant. It's something that fills me with extreme terror even now, years after my last treatment. Although I've been told I'm not to receive any more, I'm left with vivid recurring nightmares that it will be forced on me against my will and without an anaesthetic.

If I were to sum up ECT in a few words, they would be "painful, devastating, weird and terrifying". Of course, these are my own words and my own reality, but another person's words might be "life saving, amazing, great and the best thing since sliced bread".

I was once asked if ECT should be banned. It was difficult to answer. You'd probably expect me to answer "Yes" immediately, but somehow I can't.

ECT destroyed my life and I have seen it destroy other lives, but I have also met people who swear by it and where it has very obviously saved their lives with only minimal memory impairment.. 

Most people who are treated with ECT will get maybe 3-4 courses or less in their lifetime. Somehow I managed to notch up 15 courses. Yeah..yeah, I accept the standard line that I was very ill and no medication had the slightest effect on me and they didn't know what else to do, but what I am angry about is that I was never told of the devastating permanent after-effects the treatment would have. I am angry that it took the doctors 15 courses to realise that ECT didn't really help me that much, then "Oops, sorry. We've given you too much, goodbye".. But what takes the biscuit is that no after-care was offered to help cope with my now defunct brain.

When I did pluck up the courage to complain to my care staff, they dismissed it and I eventually gave up.

Time went on and a few years later I found myself in my GP's office in floods of tears and desperate. I had to fight for it, but eventually I was sent for neuropsychological testing. I wanted the results to be normal - the block may have just been in my head. But the results when I got them were devastating. Part of me was relieved - I knew that something wasn't right but it turned out each area of memory and cognitive function was affected. The figures were scary - some of my results were under the 5th percentile..some even under the 1st percentile..

I was offered help to cope, but all this amounted to was advice to set up text alerts on my phone, and to purchase a white-board. Yeah...really helpful..

I strongly feel that if they provided a treatment which trashed my brain then they should provide the testing and rehabilitation afterwards if it is required.

The damage is such that pretty much all of my childhood is gone. School..University? Mostly gone. The odd hazy shadow still exists, but I couldn't tell you if it actually happened or not.  

Day to day life is difficult and exhausting because I no longer have the ability to retain new memories. Everyday things that people take for granted require a huge amount of planning and organization.

I don't feel like a real person because I don't have those memories built up of myself to know who I really am. When I look back through my diaries now, it's like reading about another person. I don't recognise her.

Yes, ECT probably did save my life, but at what cost? There have been many, many times I wish I had died. I feel trapped in a mind which is crippled and what makes it harder to bear is if you saw me going down the street, you would never know. I have no obvious outward signs that anything is wrong..I can carry out a conversation at the bus stop with people I've never met before. I can complain about the British weather as good as the next person..but as you start to probe a bit deeper, you start to notice something is not quite right. You might ask me what I've done this morning..I'd have great difficulty in telling you. You might ask me where I'm going on the bus...oops..What bus am I waiting for?..Why am I at the bus stop in the first place..? Tip of the Iceberg.

They don't tell you all this in the literature.

The battle is ongoing to get a formal diagnosis to access the specialist services that would help with rehabilitation. Knowing the nature of the whole "establishment" I'm unlikely to get far, but I'm determined not to give up without a fight. 

If I had one wish to achieve something through this..it would be to raise awareness of the devastating mental and emotional consequences that ECT can have. If I had another couple of wishes? More research in to the after-effects of the treatment..not just a couple of months down the line, but years down the line..Oh, and my final wish would be for ECT doctors to 'practice what they preach' and have a shock or two themselves. To go through that first hand? You can't get any better training than that! 

Much more on ECT to come folks!

Kerry.

Why can't I tolerate alcohol anymore?

Today, I have to admit defeat. I'd been up though the night, violently sick, the runs, an awful headache, feeling faint and hot sweats. You'd be wrong in thinking I'd had a few too many drinks with some friends..in fact, it was only two small glasses of wine.

Half-way through glass number one, I started feeling very sick, my face beetroot and very tingly. By the end of the glass the hangover headache had already started. Glass two was plonked in front of me almost immediately and it was a Herculean feat just to get through it.

Not like the old days! I never was a frequent drinker, but on the odd occasion I did drink I tended to go a bit crazy. I could guzzle fairly large amounts of alcohol without it having much effect while my friends were wilting by my side. It was a bit of a standing joke and I was frequently asked if I was a closet alcoholic as my tolerance was quite impressive!

Over the last year, I've noticed that I just can't seem to drink as much as I did before. White wine started giving me trouble and it's got to the stage I can't drink any alcohol now without it having an adverse effect. 

I woke up this morning feeling like death warmed up, and more than a little pathetic. Absolutely blootered on two glasses of wine??!  What's happening to me? I feel like a total freak! 

Feeling very sorry for myself, I managed to punch my question in to the computer -"Why can't I tolerate alcohol anymore?" and I was amazed at what came up - dozens and dozens of people in my situation who had just suddenly developed an intolerance to alcohol!

I feel a bit better knowing its not just me..but the prospect of not having a drink..EVER? It's a bit depressing.

If you say to someone you can't/don't drink, they automatically assume you're a recovering alcoholic or prude or something, but it doesn't stop them from being quite insistent in offering you a dram.."Just let your hair down and have some fun..go on..you deserve it...What do you mean it makes you ill?..You're joking right?" (Unfortunately not).."That lass just canny handle the drink..", I can hear it all now!

After the hell I experienced today, an alcohol-free life is becoming an increasing reality. I don't really have a choice in the matter. Booze has always made me feel a bit depressed and sluggish anyway, but today has been a huge wake up call.

It's not going to be easy. I don't want this but it's just the way it's going to have to be. I'll miss that tipsy feeling I get after a glass or two of wine, and the feeling of being a wee bit rebellious, but it's just not worth it..

Of course, temptation will rear her ugly head from time to time and a bad memory which will fade this experience very quickly from my mind won't help either. I'll have to be firm and stay strong. I guess I could have some fun and come up with some hilarious and dodgy responses as to why I'm not drinking! 

(Suggestions welcome!)

Wish me luck folks!

Kerry.

The life of Bulimia..

I never set out to be bulimic. Anorexic, yes, but I could never understand what people got from something that seemed so disgusting. Most people hate being sick, so why would you subject yourself to that on a frequent basis?

A month after I stopped eating completely I found out. Anorexia is a hard habit to acquire - it goes against all the natural bodily instincts. I was in hospital at the time and I was getting quite chuffed that I'd managed a whole month without food. Then one day, BAM! Without realizing it I had cleared the entire lunch trolley intended for the other patients. And all the rolls in the bread bin. And the biscuits in the tin too. My hunger was at last satiated but the panic and guilt that engulfed me afterwards that I would put on weight was too much to bear so I calmly walked to the toilet, closed the door and brought the lot up. Barfing on demand and the silent barf are other things that are not easy to acquire but which I perfected over the years. Many people hate vomiting. So do I. But the barf at the end of a binge is very different from when you're ill - there is no shaking, no nausea and afterwards I felt a huge buzz. Manic almost. This is caused by an electrolyte imbalance after the disgusting act. It wasn't pleasant but it solved a lot of problems. I intended to fast for as long as I could and then give in to the occasional binge when it all became too much. It didn't quite work out like that and the binges became more and more frequent. I didn't tell my doctors but I think it soon became apparent to them that I'd appear to eat normally then immediately disappear off to the toilet for an extended time. The fact that I was also losing weight rapidly was another clue.

Initially I thought bulimia was great. It is a bit mingy, but you just do it, and just imagine - you can eat ANYTHING you want and never gain any weight! Fantastic! That didn't last. Soon I began to feel a fraud..a feeling that haunted me through my entire "career" as an anorexic. People who looked at me would see an emaciated girl thinking that I didn't eat, but in reality I couldn't cope with the extreme hunger and had the guilty secret of bingeing, sometimes 20 times a day. A good day for me would be 3 binges, a typical day, 5 binges, and horrendous days had 10 binges or more.

I hated those days. By the end of them I was exhausted, my mouth raw and blistered, my sitting room resembling a rubbish dump and I was usually left with the flimsy resolve that this would be my last day as a bulimic. Of course, a few hours later I was awake and absolutely starving, counting the minutes before the shops opened, fantasizing about all the delicious things I would be eating that coming day.

My bulimia very quickly turned in to a physical addiction and at its worst, uncontrollable. It was constant. The food that I ate during a binge was the only food I ate. I didn't eat meals or snacks. My aim was to get through each day without eating at all, but that rarely happened. 

I took strange fancies for things..I relied on takeaways a lot, so often it was Indian, Chinese, Italian or the chip shop. I'd get weird cravings for binges consisting entirely of courgettes or rice or tomatoes and I've always believed that if I craved a meat dish I was anaemic or if I fancied dozens of bananas, I was lacking in potassium etc. I was well known in my local grocery stores. I visited them 2-3 times every day and I felt ashamed each time, especially if it was the same cashier.

I hated bulimia. It took me to some very dark and lonely places. It disgusted me, and I was disgusted with myself. After every binge, I would say to myself "NEVER AGAIN", but it always happened again which made me hate myself even more. I felt such a failure that I couldn't overcome it. It was like a strange beast living inside me that was impossible to satiate. Once one binge was over, I was planning the next. If I'd chucked leftover food in the kitchen bin, I'd be back in there an hour later retrieving it for my next binge. 

Payday was a day of great excitement and my binges could be a little more lavish, but by the end of the fortnight I was absolutely broke and getting by on ones that consisted solely of porridge.

I believe that I was bulimic because I was starving myself, and it disappeared almost overnight as soon as I started eating normally again. It took me a long time to realize that until I relinquished my anorexia, the bulimia would stay with me. If I was lonely, upset, or just plain bored, I'd have a binge. Long after I considered myself recovered, the terrible food cravings I had caused by PMS drove me to the occasional binge..maybe once every 3-4 months. I considered these to be crazy-girl-hormone related rather than an eating disorder. Thankfully I've not felt the need for one since my Mirtazapine withdrawal.

Bulimia and Me - some funny and not so funny stuff..

• Bulimia got me in to serious financial debt. Over the years I wasted so much money and I really regret that. All my money went on binges. I could have traveled the world with the money I wasted. The most I spent in one day on a binge was £200, though this was rare.

• For some strange reason, I always used to binge whilst watching the film "Titanic". I must have watched it hundreds of times and now can't bear to see it ever again! And I must also state the very sad fact that I am word perfect...I think the same also goes for "Pride and Prejudice" starring Colin Firth which is a shame as I quite liked it but now can't watch! If either of those films come on, I instantly find my mouth salivating and my fingers twitching in anticipation! It's very weird!

• I nearly lost my life several times when I had seizures due to potassium deficiency and electrolyte imbalances. Not nice. The habit is not relevant anymore, but I can still be seen carrying tons of bananas in my bag which I always forget about. More often than not I end up with lots of stinky mush all over my stuff after they've been bashed around a bit!

• I had an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) in relation to my purge ritual. I won't give you all the gory details but it involved something like drinking 30 gulps of water, then jumping up and down 60 times, heave..then repeat twice more. (Maybe doing a little dance too!) If anything got in the way of this ridiculous, but oh so important ritual, I'd get very agitated and panicky that food was left in my stomach. At the next available opportunity I'd repeat the whole circus until I felt the world was at rights again.

As I'm typing this, I can't believe how hilarious the ritual sounds, but at the time I felt very restricted by it. This cleared up once I stopped being bulimic, but it gave me a harrowing insight in to the lives of those who suffer from OCD permanently, who are so restricted by their disorder that it's impossible to lead a normal life.   

• Thank goodness for Sensodyne toothpaste! Thanks to it, I can now eat rhubarb, gooseberries, citrus fruits, chewing gum, Granny Smith apples and sour chewy sweets - hurrah!

I lost a couple of back teeth, but compared to many bulimics I've been very lucky with the condition of my gnashers. This is probably due to not having the energy to brush my teeth when I was depressed. I was warned never to brush straight after the purge as teeth are more vulnerable..

• Sometimes I packed away so much food that I thought my stomach was going to burst. 

• I think my tongue is dead! After years of acid regurgitation I'm not really able to taste food with the intensity that I could before. 

• Of course, there is the famous Pizza Hut incident which I mentioned previously in The Ludicrous side of Mental Health..#001. I find it hilarious now, but back then it wasn't quite so funny!

I never could have imagined the hold/effect that bulimia would have on me. I stupidly thought it was something I could rely on occasionally when I couldn't stand the hunger anymore. It was amazing how quickly I got sucked in to it, and a very short period of time after that I realized that I was up against something that had a life of its own and which I couldn't control. 

About 2 years in to my eating disorders, I was treated as an outpatient at a specialist clinic, but after a couple of years they told me there was nothing they could do to help me.

Some people disagree, but I believe bulimia is a form of addiction, and I've always said that recovering from bulimia is harder than other substances because food is all around you. If you are a recovering drug addict or alcoholic, alcohol and drugs can be avoided, but you still have to eat food. The trigger is always there.

I'll talk specifically about my recovery in another post, but a life free from anorexia and bulimia was unimaginable. Looking back, they are distant memories and behaviours that seem so alien to me now.

Bulimia can be a very lonely existence. It made me a hermit, and I never really had the guts to tell people around me what was going on. I had no trouble admitting to suffering from anorexia (and it's pretty obvious anyway!) but the bulimia was harder to own up to. Anorexia, in a perverse sort of way represents strength, self-control, denial, focus and willpower, whereas bulimia can be associated with the opposite, and that's difficult to admit to.

I'd maybe see this post as aimed at the layperson who finds the disorder difficult to comprehend, and this is just a little snippet of what it is like. I don't really want to go in to how awful and disgusting bulimia can get, but believe me..it can get pretty disgusting!

Kerry.

A Profound Moment.

"Your scars have a stronger message than any tattoo".

(Words spoken to me earlier today which blew me away).

Kerry.