Thursday, August 19, 2010

Checking 1, 2, I mobile?

Just a test to see if mobile blogging works or if it's another
complicated waste of time. Since moving to our new house we have had
no internet. I haven't stopped writing, I have written tons of stuff
and am just contemplating what to post.

I wrote something in the wee hours of this morning in an effort to
calm my restlessness so sleep would come. I had every intention of
posting it until I re-read it & realised just how very personal it was
and that some people can take what I've written in completely the
wrong way. Something that I've decided not to do with this blog is
gossip or intentionally offload about somebody in my life. I do this
because I don't think it serves a purpose here. I realise that
sometimes, when trying to explain things it may be necessary to shed
light on my past and what happened to me but other than that it's a
big no no.

This post involves someone very close to me. We are no longer on
speaking terms and the fallout of our relationship has been so
devastating to me. I can't help but feel that by writing about her on
this blog- especially when she is unable to tell her side of the
story- is stabbing her in the back. But this whole thing has taken up
so much of my life in the past two months I feel that if I don't get
it off my chest I going to land up busting some head. I also am really
wanting someone out there to identify with me and hoping to get
assurance that it's going to be okay : )

So, I will go over it again, tweak it a bit until I feel that's ready
enough to go up her.

Till next time!

Saturday, August 7, 2010

The wolf is at my door

What a dark night this is. All around me there is an enveloping blackness. It feels like it is going to consume this small room of light I am sitting in. I hate moments like this- where it seem doom is standing in front of me and fear is at my back. I hardly saw the sun today. I woke up...and just was going to be one of those days. I crawled out of bed, slid downstairs to get some cereal and tea. I briefly met my mother in the kitchen who is always oblivious to how I'm feeling (probably just as well). She hugged me and told me to come and sit outside in the sun. I probably should have listened to her maybe things would have gotten better. Instead I hobbled back upstairs ate my cereal and crawled back into bed where I stayed, undisturbed for the rest of the day.

I have found in my house if this happens no one misses me until I am needed to do some sort of chore. Which is exactly what happened at 6pm when I heard my mother's voice through the floorboards asking me to come and do the dishes. To me the worst thing that anyone can do when I am having an off day is to yell at me to come and do the one chore that I hate most in the world. They all sounded like a circus act down there: "Stephanie!" "Stephanie!" "Stephanie must come do dishes!" "Did you call Stephanie?!" "Where is STEPHANIE?!!!!". Imagine three grown adults yelling all that at once. My pounding serotonin- deprived brain was wishing I had duct tape, a hammer ANYTHING to get them to shut the hell up.

It's really not their fault, they don't know how to handle my depression not many people do anyway. My Dad tries to ignore it, but thinks I'm not "trying hard enough"- whatever that means, my sister is in between thinking I made it up for attention or it's not that big of a deal and I must just "be more positive". Yep. Try telling that to someone whose only thoughts are of slitting their wrists to try and stop the crushing sadness that has plagued them for days- "just be more positive". Only my mother has truly made an effort to understand and I can say she really does try, she defends me when the others want to jump all over me. But her understanding only goes so far and I feel there is this block with her. She is a born- again Christan and believes prayer is my only answer, that and er, herbs. Problem is I am struggling everyday just to keep faith that God actually does exist.

The greatest challenge I had to overcome when I was first diagnosed is the stigma surrounding mental illness. The conclusion that I have reached is that just because someone doesn't understand my illness does not mean they are bad people- some people have the capacity to understand and accept while others don't. I can't hold it against my friends and family who can't stand with me in this fight. We can still have a relationship it just means that there will always be a part of me I can't share and they will never know.

Still when that group consists of most of your family it can really hurt and it makes trying to conquer this disease so much more lonely. Right now they are all in bed dreaming while I sit up alone to fight off the evil thoughts that seem to be swirling in the darkness surrounding this room, waiting to pierce my brain. I can't wait for dawn. Tomorrow I won't make the same mistake I made today I WILL get up out of this bed and face the day. That is FIGHTING. Unfortunately those damn dishes still await me tomorrow morning.

I always find identification to how I'm feeling in art in every form. I really liked this song and the video when it came out. It represented best some of the swirling, outlandish thoughts that I would have late at night.

Monday, August 2, 2010

One glorious day....

*This is something I wrote about a week ago in a sudden "fervor". Unfortunately moving house and no internet has delayed me in posting it

There is something in the atmosphere, an air of excitement and opportunity, I’m not really sure what it is but I feel like I am sitting in a deep pool and I need to jump up out of the water and grab whatever it is before the waves of depression pull me back down into the murky waters where thoughts of pain and suicide will cloud my vision of whatever it was that was holding it’s hand out to me.

It could be just the last dying embers of a month of euphoria spent in the whirlwind of the Soccer World cup, a dream come true for me. That is definitely part of it. But the real source is what has been happening to me the last few days and resulted in an eventually epiphany last night.

I have never mentioned this in this blog because, God knows, there is enough to mention. And to talk about this subject as well as continuing to write about my daily battles with depression and anxiety would just be a bit over the top. But if I can take a break from those musings and turn the subject to something that is just as close to my heart.

A year ago I started to go blind- my sight had been rapidly deteriorating for a while, I thought it might have been the result of high blood sugar- a good enough reason to go to the doctor. But being uninsured, broke and under the dangerous premise that “it will go away on its own” I left it. Then over a period of a month my sight drastically decreased, I became deaf in one ear, was throwing up everything I ate and was in the most awful pain. This was something that wouldn’t just go away and I finally told my mother.

I saw an ophthalmologist who discovered my optic nerves were badly swollen. Having always been faithful with my research I already knew what this could mean before he gently told me I would need an MRI to see if there was a brain tumor. The other possibility was fluid on the brain. We had to wait a week for my MRI appointment. My mother and sister were devastated. My Dad hid in his office for the week. I was calm- I didn’t feel anything, except the slight and sick humor that God, having seen my soul die in my breakdown in America, had finally decided to put me out of my misery. How selfish it was thinking like that. Of course there were the usual thoughts of what legacy I would leave behind if I had to die in a few months.

The day of the test came and all the calm I had evaporated when I saw the tiny hole where my head would go to conduct an MRI. The nurse was kind enough to give me a “magic” injection. There was no tumor or lesions on my brain. My family was relieved but that was short lived because in the days that followed, I was diagnosed with Benign Intracranial Hypertension. It is a disease that causes a massive amount of fluid to collect on the brain. They don’t know what causes it and there is no cure. They can manage the symptoms with a drug called Diamox and….regular therapeutic lumbar punctures or spinal taps to drain the fluid off the brain. Not only that- we were told the damage to my eyesight and hearing could be permanent.

I have had four lumbar punctures in total. I will never forget my first one- a psychiatry student could not get the fluid t to drain landed and up poking my spinal column four times before someone took over afterwards I was in so much pain I could barely breathe. The drug Diamox- which is also used for altitude sickness had the most horrible side effects. I could sleep for 18 hours a day and when awake was nothing else but a zombie. I had constant pins and needles in my hands and feet, it alterated my taste- Coke tasted like brandy!!. And always, always there was the never ending pain sometimes dehumanizing. I was confined to my house and loneliness enveloped me like a blanket.

In April this year I told my doctors that I had volunteered for the 2010 Soccer World Cup. They had already advised me against working and again advised me that doing the World Cup would be crazy. It had been a long time since I felt so stubborn and determined and I decided I was going to volunteer- even if I had to do it sitting down…or lying down. We were trying some knew drug combinations and I had actually started feeling better so I decided to have faith that it was going to work. The World Cup was hard, exhausting but ABSOLUTELY amazing- it turned out to be one of the best things I’ve ever did. I have made friends and memories that will last a lifetime.

That ended nearly a month ago and last night was when I had my “epiphany”. I was cooking my Dad his birthday dinner and I started thinking about where I was this time last year. On my Dad’s birthday last year I had also cooked him a birthday dinner, but messed it up badly. It was right before my appointment with the ophthalmologist and I was at my worst. My sight was so bad I couldn’t see what I was doing. I couldn’t hear my grandmother calling for me. I was nauseous and I hurt so badly that I had to sit down every few minutes. But last night while again, cooking his birthday dinner, I realized that my sight was more than perfect, most of my hearing had been restored and I was absolutely pain free. I walked outside and saw the stars and I could hear the farm labourers laughing as they walked home for the night. I could see AND hear when the frying pan was burning

The last few days I had been reading bible stories from the Old Testament in my mother’s application bible. Most of these stories used to annoy me senseless in the infantile versions they were told in Sunday school. But the application bible has put them in a completely new light. Beautiful stories full of adventure, miracles and love that have been mysteriously renewed me and given me strength. If you read through this blog you’ll see that I’m a “Doubting Thomas” faith is a daily battle for me. I can go from believing God is there (but a big mystery), to believing that “something” is there but not sure what it is (agnostic ), to not believing in God or anything at all (atheist) and then back to believing again. I have tried to stop this cycle but I don’t know how.

Reading these stories I believe lead to my “light-bulb-Oprah” moment while standing at the stove. My light bulb moment: Without really realizing it, I had climbed a mountain- I was staring into the valley where I once was with a debilitating illness in front of me. An illness that nearly robbed me of my ability to see and hear. I hadn’t noticed because it happened so slowly.

I hope I am making sense here. But I am profoundly grateful for that experience. It has given me hope that over time, maybe without me even noticing it my battle with depression will be drawing to a close. Slowly everyday small steps are taken until one glorious day I’ll suddenly be staring into a valley that was my depression and realize that I am free.