All good things must come to an end...

Whatever patient, perseverant soul(s) are still reading this blog I salute you! This period of my life has not been the best for blogging. I started a full time job three months ago that just happened to be in a performance orientated company that I soon found out was very “trigger” happy. I hadn’t been there long before I starting hearing tales of our “fallen comrades” i.e. employees that were fired for something as simple as not sending enough e-mails OR (and this really takes the cake) supervisors/ managers that were given the chop because “they hadn’t fired enough people themselves”. Hmmmm…did I mention that this company is American? So I had been given the subtle message that- even though I was temp covering maternity leave- if I didn’t give 110% I would be given my walking papers. What was worse, and this really scared the shit out of me, if I messed up this woman’s job…she could get fired, even though she did nothing wrong! Did I mention she has six kids? Yep there was A LOT at stake. I’m pretty sure some laws are being broken here…but who ever dares to take on a monstrous American corporation?


So this coupled with the fact that I am still studying full time and have been writing exams ( two of which I am pretty sure I failed) I have not had much time for anything except eating and sleeping…and a spot of T.V if I am lucky!!. I hate to say this…but red wine and chocolate have become my best friends. I can’t exactly say it’s been a social pleasure working for this company.

I have lost two big features in my life these past three months, the first was my relationship with my sister (or rather the final realization on my part that the only way we would not kill each other is if we lived several hundred kilometers apart and didn’t speak at all…except on Christmas and birthdays…or if someone died) and the second, has hit me hard. My church counselor finally realized that she can no longer help me.

Years ago, I was talking with my friend’s husband about getting her to see a counselor. I suggested going to see a church counselor, since it was free and the husband said something that really rang true. Church counselors can only help you if you meet a certain criteria. At the very least you should be a believer…you don’t have to be a very good one…but you must believe in God. Second you need to be able to forgive…a lot of people will struggle for years with this but a GOOD counselor like mine, will be willing to stick with you….so long as you believe. Third, you need to agree with and do pretty much everything they tell you to. As I struggled with all three of the above, I knew that my counseling was doomed with these people from the very start. But I hoped that “maybe this time” it would work. I was at the edge with a knife in my hand, planning on ending it all, so I would have taken any helping hand that had been offered to me.

During my twenty –eight years on this earth I have been to so many psychologists, psychiatrists and counselors that I can’t remember them all. The one that helped me the most was a black psychologist ( pretty amazing as apartheid was still rife in South Africa) named Mandisa who saw me from when I was eight until I was ten. I also had reasons to believe that the church counselor I had now would be different: She has known my family and I since I was seven years old. She has done that most amazing work with people from Rape Crisis and victims of child abuse. The list of lives she has changed is endless. She told me when I first started that she had been waiting for me for years and that she wanted to make me her project. When I tried to run away she would come and find me. Who wouldn’t have been given a little bit of hope?

It started out with me, her and an elderly gentleman. Every Saturday at 3pm, I would arrive on her doorstep. She would give me a big mother hen huge followed by tea and biscuits and I would sit on her couch, her cat Joey purring in my lap and recount the horrors of my life. Then they would pray for me. Sometimes they tried to do deliverance – I’m not sure this ever worked (seriously, imagine someone yelling out you: “Spirit of illness, I COMMAND you to come out!!!!. And then feeling really guilty because nothing was er, “coming out”). No matter what they did the issue was that I didn’t completely believe in God. I remember them asking me each week, “Do you still not believe in God”. They didn’t seem to realize it wasn’t like a dress that I could change, it was more like a cancer invading my system that I couldn’t rid of.

When I came in one day the elderly gentleman was not there and I was told it was just going to be me and her. So for the rest of the year I spread myself at her feet like strawberry jam, she was the first person that I fully told about my abuse and my binge eating. I told her things that I had never told anyone before and she listened and prayed. Some major hurdles where accomplished with her- she confronted my mother head on about my abuse and her part in it. Because of that my mother started to understand me in a way that she never had before.

About three month ago I began to feel guilty…I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being selfish and was wasting her time. The revelations that I had made were now sounding like nothing but repeated complaints and whining. I hate to admit it but we had stopped making progress. Here was a woman who worked 80 hours a week and had women- most of whom had suffered the mostly dreadful atrocities- lining up at her door desperate for help…and I was just sitting on her couch complaining?!. Several times I was tempted to e-mail her and just tell her it was over but didn’t because I wanted to stay with her…sometimes I felt like she was my only friend in the world and I would miss her terribly.

The deal breaker was that no matter how hard I tried, I could never believe in God the way she did and it will take years to forgive my Dad for what he did to me. Not only that, she was way over her head with my binge- eating. It’s an addiction that I have lived with for most of my life that I actually don’t know how to live without it. It seems to make up so much of who I am that I don’t even want to get rid of it.

I fessed up to all of this on her couch last Saturday. Our meetings had become almost awkward because my guilt was always hanging in the air. She didn’t agree with me at first. But upon further retrospect she finally agreed. She e-mailed me last Monday morning to say that we had reached a stalemate and we needed to take a break. For me it was so heartbreaking but I realized that I had reached the limit with her and that she could no longer help me.

The unfortunate part of this is that my mother has been so devastated that yet another helping hand is going to disappear in the Stephi- void that she reacted with anger. This sadly has made the situation very tense with my counselor and it will probably be a while before we will be able to speak again.

I am trying to see this differently…my latest counselor is not someone who has bitten the dust but rather someone, like the rest of the people I have met on my path, has helped me and carried me closer to recovery.

At the same time I can’t get rid of the awful sense of failure…why is it that after SO many counselors, psychologists and psychiatrists that I can’t seem to get well? What is wrong with me that I can’t let my past go, forgive and live the life I was meant to live. For me failure also brings loneliness, the old enemy of rejection has reared its head again and I do feel so alone right now.

I will never be going back to her. From now on whenever we meet it will be as friends, I hope. I am thankful for everything she has given and for everything I have learnt. Writing this post has really helped. I haven’t spoken to her since she sent that e-mail but I now know what I want to say to her.

On to the next….

Joining the rat race

First day on a new job!. I really can feel that I have not worked in a while. I was so tired sitting in that office and I couldn't stop yawning. I was worried that everyone thought I was bored. I have to admit it is a rather hectic job and there is SO much to learn. The thing that is really freaking me out is that the lady whose maternity leave I am covering is in her NINTH month of pregnancy!!. She goes on leave TWO DAYS before she is due to give birth. I am starting to have vision of the office turning into a labour ward. There is so much work for us to cover that if she has her baby any sooner than she is supposed to, I'm in serious shit.

The people in the office where I work seem nice, they are really comfortable around each other. I don't think they are the type of people I would normally hang out with- they are party goers, I got out of that phase long time ago. One thing that does irk me is the amount of swearing that goes on around that office. I'm no grandma, I once had a very potty mouth that I picked up courtesy of London and I had to work hard to get rid of it. I can understand breaking your toe or seeing something that beggars believe and uttering every slang word you can think of. We all have been there. But to me someone that swears in every sentence they speak tells me that they have nothing good or intelligent to say and are just trying to full the silence. I'm not offended by it...I find it more annoying than anything.

The job itself does look like a high stress job unfortunately. Without revealing too much info, basically the company I work for is a worldwide tour group. The job I will be covering will be as a coordinator for all the tour guides in Southern Africa. It's a lot of paper work, even more data entry and I'll have to learn the NINE different computer programmes designed specially for the company ( which aren't very user friendly if you ask me).

This is going to be one of the biggest tests I will face since I've had my breakdown. I am going to be positive and believe that this will have a good effect on my mental health. The make or break it period will come in November when I will be working AND studying for five exams....with no time off. It's all about time management. If I start now it won't be the death of me. And of course I always have to keep my dreams in sight to know what I am working towards.

Hysteria

I am sitting here with my cup of tea waiting for the popcorn. It is one of those golden afternoons on the farm. The house is bathed in warm sunlight and it is quiet except for the sound of the fridge and the birds. Milo is sunbathing. It is at times like these where I think life is good and depression seems like a distant memory. Yet no matter what season there is always this feeling that future is racing toward me and I am in no way prepared for it.

Last week my sister finally decided (or gained enough courage) to introduce us to her new boyfriend. When a male comes into our family it is a big deal. We are a family of women with the exception of my Dad and one lone male cousin (the best guy you could know). All of our men abandoned us years ago- I tell myself it's because they can't handle us. But the introduction of a new guy in our family has always meant one of two things...heartbreak or a new baby somewhere in the future. It happens every time like clockwork. It's like we have a curse on us. I hate it.

My sister's new boyfriend is a lovely guy but already the signs of trouble are there. He is three years younger than her and has a less than perfect past. I have now decided to be positive and supportive of her, but I can't get rid of the niggling feeling of impending doom. When she told us she was bringing him home last week I immediately made plans to be elsewhere. I panicked thinking "Oh no, not again! I won't go through it again!". Childish I know. It upset and hurt my sister and after a huge fight via Blackberry messenger, I agreed to stay.

Sitting with my Mom in the aftermath, I was trying to explain to her my overwhelming desire to get as far away from the family as I could. At some point I made the most ridiculous comparison of my life so far being like window shopping in a mall- there has always been glass between me and the things I want: success, happiness, love, peace. And all I have really done is looked at it but have never had it.

The hilarity and overwhelming sadness of what I was saying engulfed me all at once. Suddenly I began to both laugh and cry at the same time as each feeling inside me battled for control. The convulsions of both laughter and tears were so strong that I could no longer sit upright and so I collapsed into a quivering lump on the couch.

My Mom's face just made me laugh and cry harder. I could literally see her brain ticking away, trying to figure out what she should do. Eventually I couldn't breathe and my stomach was in knots. She came and sat beside me and tried to hold me up. Milo was staring at me like I had gone nuts. I laughed/ cried for about 45 minutes.

I have no idea what that was or whether it was good or not. It's been a while since I was so out of control. Afterwards my face was red and puffy from crying and my asthma had been triggered from laughing. I spoke to my counsellor and she sounded it like hysteria. It might have been the fact that my doctors were meddling with my Amitriptyline Whatever it was it passed quickly and the next day it was like it never happened. I am ashamed of my attitude toward my sister having a boyfriend. You don't need to tell me that I am being unreasonable. But the past still has it's clutches deep inside us and I am still trying to figure out how to break free. I hope that by the end of my time on earth I won't be comparing my life to window shopping.

When the pressure cooker explodes



Breakfast at Tiffany's

 Firstly I would really like everyone to take a look at my last post and maybe pass on the message. I would like to see that lovely kitty get a home. If there was a way I could have her shipped to South Africa, I would take her but I know that is impossible.

My half- sister (from my Dad's previous marriage) is in the country and has decided to grace my parents with her presence for two days starting on Easter Sunday. I'm not going to give the gory details other than to say that both my younger sister and I decided several years ago that it would be best if we had no relationship with her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same. We would have left it at that if my mother was not on a eternal quest to bring us together again citing the "forgive and forget" slogan with some pretty disastrous consequences. This woman has treated my mother atrociously in the past and I have to admit finding my Mom's easy forgiveness of her and forgetting all that happened rather disturbing. It's like my Mom is intimidated by her and feels responsible for the rift between her and my Dad which couldn't be farther from the truth.

Anyway enough about that, this week as been stressful enough mostly because of finances, my up coming exams and my grandmother (again a whole other post). And ( Sorry guys! ) it's been that time of the month. I'm on the pill and for the past few months I have been using the pill to stop my monthly "pal" from dropping by. For about eight days around and during my period my antidepressants stop working my anxiety levels shoot through the roof and I become a shouting, screaming, kick- boxing wench and during the rare periods of calm I experience an overwhelming- unable-to-breath sadness. So I have really been using the pill to stop the awful pms-ing.

Well this month I couldn't do that because I didn't have money to get my pill on time. Yesterday I had a counselling session in which we talked a lot about the past, the abuse and how ****ed up my family is, so I was feeling a little emotionally sore. I then had to spend two hours in a hospital waiting room for my grandmother to see the doctor. And of course my grandmother was yelling and talking utter rubbish as she usually does, irritating everyone there. Eventually we were asked to take her outside. During this time I read the story I posted above about the kitty, Precious and it really upset me. So the stage was set for a rather big explosion. And the one who set it off?. My mother.

I have made it clear that I don't want to see my half- sister and have made plans to go and stay with my younger sister when she is here. After seeing the doctor we bundled my grandmother in the car during which my mom told me my half sister would be coming on Sunday. I replied that I would be going to my younger sister. My Mom said then that she had a "simple request". That was the match that lit the dynamite and knowing what she was asking I exploded.

I just started screaming my lungs out!. We were parked in a disabled parking quite close to the hospital entrance and people actually stopped and stared. A group of nurses walking towards us gave the car a wide berth. I was so furious that I kept on shouting all the way to my Aunt's house.

My Mom knows how bad the relationship is between my half- sister and I. What's worse is that I have told her everything that happened but she always forgets and keeps on asking me over and over again. I have given my reasons for not wanting to see  her but she doesn't respect my decision and keeps on nagging and demanding that we become freaking best friends because we are "sisters". Her coming to stay has really been stressing me out this time and my Mom has been more demanding than usual. This all coupled with everything else that was going on yesterday pushed me over the edge.

Today I'm a little worried because that explosion yesterday definitely caused me to take a mental step backwards. I can't describe it, I feel like a switch has flipped and something is different. I was meant to volunteer at the welfare today but this morning I couldn't get out of bed- I had a nightmare about my half- sister  last night. We were all at some big party and I spent the entire time trying to avoid her until eventually she confronted me and was crying and throwing a tantrum. I remember she had awful teeth. Ugh!. I woke up this morning feeling really disturbed and paranoid. I decided I didn't have it in me today to face those awful welfare ladies once again and stayed home. I failed today.

So I have spent most of today in a anxious state of paranoia and feeling angry and hurt at my mother for putting me there. I told my Mom how I was feeling this morning and her response was to pray for me. She's now acting like everything is hunky- dory. She knows that something is terribly wrong unfortunately before she takes action she goes into a state of denial first.

This might make you laugh. The final slap in the face?. My half sister will having a roast lamb dinner with my Mom and Dad. My grandmother's side of the family owns a sheep farm up in the Northern Cape. Every once and a while the send us lamb, very popular in South Africa and Europe and my favorite. They used to send lamb down a lot but after my beloved great uncle died they now only send it down about twice a year. It's way to expensive to buy in the store. We have had this leg of lamb in the freezer and I have literally been waiting with bated breath until we can have a roast lamb dinner. Well guess who is now getting the damn dinner?. Guess who will be sitting in a flat with her sister eating sandwiches?. Uh- huh.

What's your happy pill???

When I left the hospital last week they gave me a nice little gift bag. This is what was inside:

Mmmmmn! This is about R1200 ( $177/ £109 ) worth of meds. I am very blessed in that in South Africa if you are unemployed, specifically in the Western Cape you get your meds free. I can't say the same for the US...I virtually went bankrupt trying to pay medical bills when I lived there.

Only two of these boxes contain my "happy pills"...antidepressants, the rest is for my BIH and one is to stabilize my shaky blood sugar. I take eleven and a half pills a day, most of them in the morning. When I am taking supplements ( these are VERY expensive in SA ) I can take up 10 pills in the morning alone- little B was always in awe of how I would be able swallow them all at once. Actually this would amaze everyone. I only take painkillers as a last resort...like say, when I'm blind. So those really don't factor into the equation.

The antidepressants I take are 50mg of Citalopram (brand name Celexa or Cipramil) and 25mg Amitriptyline - I take those for the headaches so I am not on a antidepressant dose. When I first started taking antidepressants in America I started on 20mg of Lexapro. The side effects of going on to antidepressants were really weird: a strong burning sensation on my face, neck, arms and chest, manic talking (just about ANYTHING would tumble out of my mouth), serious disassociation and really weird fevers!. Those are just the unusual side effects...I had all the usual side effects as well.

The long term side effects have been a little more unnerving. Both my long term and short term memory have taken a knock. In some cases with my long term memory it has been for the best, making some awful childhood memories seem more misty lessening their conscious impact on me. But for my short term memory it's another thing. I can't remember appointments, instructions or where I put things. I forget dates for assignments or what I even need to look at to remind me of assignment dates. Studying is a nightmare as I forget something as soon as I read it and I have trouble recalling something I have read a hundred times. This is not good as my exams start end of next month. The physical side effects, or those that are visible are weight gain ( I had to give away most of the fabulous clothes I bought in London), fatigue, thirst and sweating like a freakin' pig.

Then there is the emotional side of things. I still struggle with physical side of depression but I have no way of expressing any emotion because antidepressants have turned me into an emotionless, cold icicle. The only emotion I feel now days is anger and that's mostly when I am around my Dad. I can't cry, during the blue moon that I do cry it's only a couple of tears but I feel nothing. I don't feel happiness, sadness, contentedness, motivation just nothing, I just don't care. This has really perplexed and in many cases, hurt the people who knew me before my breakdown. They don't understand what has happened they can't accept that I have changed so a lot of those relationships have now grown apart and some have fallen by the wayside.

I am interested to know what meds some of you are on and what the positives and the negatives are...it's different for everyone so should be really interesting to compare.

Tomorrow I have the dreaded task of going into animal welfare and volunteering. I am looking forward to caring for the animals, also nervous as it can be really heartbreaking. But I am not looking forward to interacting with the "delightful social club" that are the other volunteers. They are really a miserable bunch of people and I don't want to spend even two minutes in their company but since they did save Milo's life I'm going to grin and bear it.

This week...

With the happenings of last week, I really didn't think it was appropriate to continue my post on the hereafter, not to mention the actual movie Hereafter had a scene of a tsunami engulfing a coastline- I read somewhere that they actually stopped showing the movie in Japan because of this. I will continue this post in a few days.

And I felt, and have been feeling all this week that in the grander scheme of things my musings really didn't matter. It's the same feeling you get when you gaze up at the stars at night, realise how unimaginably big the universe is and how insignificant you are...not even a grain sand. I read somewhere that there are more stars in the universe than there are grains of sand on this earth.

I have been truly devastated by the events happening in Japan. I actually haven't felt this way since 9/11. All week I have seen pictures of carnage, bewildered people, bodies covered and landscapes forever changed. I wish there was something I could do but I know that's impossible Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while will remember that one of my dreams was to go and teach English in Japan after I graduate. My fascination with Japan started when I was the only girl in my class that would watch Dragonball Z with the boys. Forget I said that.

It's also been a week of "one-thing-after-another". On Monday I had my last session with my psychologist. My godfather is unable to pay for my sessions anymore. Obviously this is a huge loss but I am so grateful to him for his kindness, it saved me. Last Friday, I refused to go to therapy because I found out my Dad was e-mailing my therapist in what I think was an attempt to influence her. As far as I know you have to get the patient's consent to e-mail their therapist. It was the worst breach of privacy and although it may seem childish I decided not go to make statement that this was one area he would never be able to control

I ended a friendship last week before the earthquake. Believe me this was not something that do often and I didn't take it very lightly. I am still wondering if I did the right thing. Basically it boiled down to: "How long am I going to let this girl hurt me?" "Do I really have time for a flake?. The answer to both questions was in the negative. You see I have been really blessed when it comes to friends. I don't have a truckload of friends like my sister, but the friends I do have,have walked through fire with me, loved me unconditionally are constant sources of hope. I would do anything for them. Once you have had a friendship like that you really don't have time for the social butterflies who are here today and gone tomorrow but still depend heavily on you. That's what this girl was.

I was in hospital on Wednesday. What was meant to be a check up with the combined services of neurology and psychiatry turned into my having lumbar puncture/ spinal tap number 6. The actual procedure went well but it is now Friday and I STILL have a headache from the LP and body aches. I feel like I am 80. My one daily focus right now is painkillers.

For the last two days the surrounding area where I live has been engulfed in flames. The result of some fog throwing a cigarette butt out of a car window. At night the symphony of flames dancing with the moon can be very beautiful but once a new day dawns reality hits. Magical forests are now piles of ash, wild animals have burnt to death, the once beautiful landscape blackened. This morning I wondered where Basil and Buttercup were. Along the main road there is a mass exodus of fire trucks carry filthy, exhausted firemen. While new shiny ones go in the opposite direction, ready for battle.

Everything seems so big at the moment and I feel so little! So I am going to lay this very achy little head of mine down and try and get some sleep...

Hereafter

A few weeks ago after yet another visit to the doctor, I saw Clint Eastwood's latest movie ( at least his latest movie in South Africa ) Hereafter, pretty self- explanatory- it's all about kicking the eternal bucket. I was nervous about seeing this film, I guess it would be normal for any person to have reservations about seeing a movie which will remind them about their own mortality. But I have had some horrible experiences with death or  more specifically with the idea of death. I have mentioned before that I lost a good friend to cancer when I was 10 years old. I had the typical childish fear of death back then. After she died though I was no longer afraid, why I am not entirely sure. It was first time someone close to me had died and  it was almost as though once someone had taken the plunge first it wasn't so bad any more. Once the initial shock and grief of her death had waned I remember thinking how dying seemed like such a grown up thing for such a little girl to do.

In 2007 when I was very emotionally ill before my breakdown, one of the strange psychiatric developments that came about was the strong illusion that I was going to die. I had the absolute conviction that, say, this time next week I would no longer be alive and that I was definitely going to die by Tuesday or Wednesday. Once Tuesday and Wednesday had rolled round, it didn't make a difference....I was definitely going to die by Thursday or Friday. I will not ever be able to properly express how massively terrifying this was. I was living in the US....away from my family, I had no friends yet and I was to ashamed to tell the people I was living with. How exactly do you tell someone that?. I started packing my things away. I made a list of my things saying who was to get what once I was gone. I pleaded with God to save me, getting just silence in return. Once I had my breakdown however to me there was no God. In one single night all the faith that I had in my whole life, everything I believed in disappeared. It shattered me, broke my heart beyond repair and I don't think I will ever be the same.

Those where hard times but I have come a LONG way and I have faced what happened. If I look back with the knowledge that I have now and with most of my sanity once again intact, I can now see why my breakdown happened and how it happened. Why I developed that sudden obsession with death before my breakdown, I'll never know.

So you can understand why I was a little apprehensive about seeing this movie. Apprehensiveness for me normally goes hand in hand with curiosity...so if I am apprehensive about seeing a movie, it will most likely be the first movie I see- the same thing happened with Black Swan.

I was actually really surprised despite the fact that there are parts of this movie that are incredibly sad, the best way I can describe the mood is soothing and mellow. Really weird if you consider it's content. And there was no creepiness which was refreshing. I spoke with a friend who also saw this movie and we agreed that we both came away feeling like we had found solace. For me personally it made me feel better about death- whether that's for the short or long term I'm not exactly sure.

Afterwards, I started thinking about death practically for the first time, without the fear factor involved. Yes, I am a mortal, one day I will draw my last breath just like everybody else that is reading this (unless you have found the eternal fountain of youth ) and whether it's fair or not none of us are guaranteed to live to old age.

Probably the most difficult thing about facing my fear of death is what will happen to me after I die. I was raised in a Christan household. I actually became a born- again christian when I was 12. I was taught that if I asked Jesus for forgiveness of my sins and dedicated my life to him that I would live with him in heaven for all eternity. Then I became an unbeliever for several years and I believed that when I died the lights would go out and I would cease to exist but then to many things happened (which I won't go into right now) to once again make me believe otherwise- call me a flake.

Now my relationship with God is on the mend- that will probably take the rest of my life. But I can't say my belief in the afterlife has been strengthened. If I am going to be honest...not only do I find the  most popular Christian belief of the afterlife hard to believe.....I er, don't find it all that appealing either. Streets of gold and gems just don't do it for me and - I think I may really offend some people here- most Christians...the evangelical kind drive me nuts and the thought of spending eternity with all of them is a hugely unpleasant thought.

I am very aware ( and respectful ) that most of my readership are actually non- believers (mental illness + God = doesn't seem to go) but I am still really interested in what you believe happens to you when you die: do you believe you will go to heaven to be with God?, do you believe that "the lights will go out" and that will be it? or do you believe that something happens but you are not sure what?. I once came across I a guy that believed in God 100% but didn't believe in an afterlife. I also knew a girl who believed our energy was absorbed by the universe and we became part of the stars. I have come across so many people, of no religion that believe in reincarnation. I realise this discussion has been done a million times but I would like to have it here.

PLEASE NOTE: If someone says something you don't agree with  DO NOT go into the attack mode. That won't be allowed and I will delete your comment. Just had to mention that because I know these things can get people pretty passionate about this subject :) .

Later on I will write a post about what I think the afterlife may be, my own interpretation of what the bible says about it ( there's much more to it than freaking clouds and pearly gates ) and what I want the afterlife to be. Three very different things.

Below is the trailer to Hereafter:

Standing on the shoulders of giants: famous people with depression

Is it just me or have things been really quiet in the blogsphere lately?. Well at least MY blogsphere, which granted is not very big. University is officially starting to hit me. My first assignment is due tomorrow. I have finished it but just need to type it up. Over the next few two weeks I am going to get hit with more assignments. So I don't have an actual post this weekend...luckily for me I have written a few posts but have never published them. The stuff I wrote below, I wrote some time ago and this will be my post for the weekend. Sometime soon hopefully I plan to research and do two posts on studying with depression and trying to find a job when suffering from a mental illness. These two topics are what I will have to be dealing with in my life for the next few months.

***

One day while riding a bus to work, soon after I arrived in England, I happened to be holding onto a £2 coin and started to inspect it. On the rim of this coin was the phrase "Standing on the shoulders of giants". Most £2 coins have it. I found this phrase very mysterious so I googled it. The Phrase finder describes the meaning of this phrase as this: "Using the understanding gained by major thinkers who have gone before in order to make intellectual progress". It was believed to be coined by 12th century theologian and author, John of Salisbury and was also prominently used by Sir Issac Newton.

All the great discoveries and inventions that we have today are because someone forged ahead into the unknown. I was thinking of this in regards to mental illness. There have been great scientific discoveries but I believe that what really cracked the stigma  was when a few very brave and well known people came forward and spoke out. That's what has given the everyday man freedom. I am sure this has been done before, but the idea only came to me the other day: to research famous people with depression and mental illness. What I came up with surprised me. I have tried to select people that everyone will be familiar with.

Winston Churchill
This man is on my list of top 5 people I'd like to have a conversation with. There are so many things that I want to ask him. Churchill is believed to be the greatest prime minister England ever had and one of the greatest leaders of the 20th century. He lead his country and the allies to victory in WWII. Yet through out his life Churchill often suffered prolonged and severe bouts of depression. He was the first person to use the term "Black dog" to describe his illness. He also had a speech impediment but many people believe that Churchill won the war by talking his way out of it. This may sound corny but often when I can't get out of bed I always think of him and wonder how the hell he did it. How did he get out of bed AND still go to war? This proves that depressives can sometimes achieve a whole lot more than non- depressives.

Vivien Leigh - Actress: Gone with the Wind/ Streetcar Named desire
If you have never seen "Gone with the Wind" where the hell have you been??. Vivien was a very talented, very beautiful Oscar- winning actress. But her whole life her health was marred by tuberculosis and what is now known as Biopolar disorder. This earned her the reputation of being difficult to work with. She was a recipient of ECT and once had to placed in a nursing home after a severe breakdown rendered her incapable of caring for herself.

J.K. Rowling - Author of Harry Potter
Rowling admitted in an interview that she had been diagnosed with clinical depression in the past and had experienced periods of being extremely suicidal. The feelings she experienced with depression inspired her to introduce " Dementors", soul- sucking creatures in the third book.

Drew Carey - Famous comedian
Drew Carey has tried to commit suicide twice by taking large doses of sleeping pills. He has said in interviews that he has always felt mad at the world and would use food and alcohol to try and numb his pain. He says he is on a "constant" road to recovery.

Brooke Shields- Actress
I really admire Brooke Shields because she spoke out about her experience which is still considered extremely taboo. Brooke had severe postpartum depression, which to me is probably the most devastating form of depression. She has said in interviews that she was overwhelmed with thoughts of harming her baby and the desire to commit suicide was with her every hour of every day. Fortunately she was surrounded by people who encouraged her to get help and she made a successful recovery. She has since been raising awareness for postpartum depression.

Kirsten Dunst - Actress
Kirsten has publicly admitted checking into rehab in 2008 to be treated for depression after being ill for about 6 months. She has said the reason for her going public was to highlight the struggle faced by so many successful women and to dispel rumors.

Kurt Cobain - Musician ( Nirvana )
I can remember the day he died so clearly. It was 1994 and the year that I first began feeling suicidal. Kurt had suffered a lifetime of depression, addiction, ADHD, bronchitis and was in constant severe pain from an undiagnosed stomach disorder. Yet it was these very killers of the soul that inspired some of the greatest music of his generation. We all know that depression can suck the life out of you...add everything else this poor guy had to deal with and and it was no wonder he met a very tragic end.

Abraham Lincoln - 16th president of the United States
Growing up in South Africa, the only American history I studied at school was The Great Depression ( yeah...how ironic...), so I didn't know that much about Mr. Lincoln until recently. And what I first heard about him surprised me. Many people that knew Lincoln described him as a very jovial character ( what a contrast to those stony- faced portraits ) but had also said he was very prone to melancholy aka depression in today's terms. Some historians believe he was Bipolar...he was known to weep in public. He spoke of suicide as a young man. This never detracted from the fact that he was one of the greatest presidents in US history. I read a fascinating article here

The ramblings of a dull, bitchy mind

My hair is getting way to long…ginger curls that are suffocating in the heat and feel heavy. I go through periods of wanting to shave my head to be free of it.


I’ve been told by other red heads that I am lucky I don’t possess the epidemic of freckles that go with being a carrot top….they should see me after a day in the sun.

I had to get up early this morning to care for my elderly grandmother so my parents could go to church. Feed her, put her on the toilet and generally make sure she doesn’t freak out to much. Unfortunately she wet her skirt because I left her to long on the potty and she moved.

Why is it that I can still taste my medication two hours after I have taken them?

The meds have put into a four- year haze

I asked my Mom to bring me a bag of something nice when she got home. She brought me celery and eggplant. Both of which I like, but not exactly what I had in mind. My Mom’s fear of my landing up overweight like my Dad has been ruling my life since I was seven, when it became clear that I had inherited his genes.

I have been battling an eating disorder/ food addiction since I was seven.

I am tired of being raked over the coals by both atheists and Christians. To Christians I committed the ultimate sin: I lost faith and I denied God’s existence. To atheists I did the unthinkable I took my faith, as small as a mustard seed and decided I wanted to know God again. Both feel betrayed.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever feel normal again.

I just want to be normal again.

Define normal?

Some days it takes me two hours just to get to the point where I can get out of bed. Other days it will take me the same amount of time just to make my bed: I straighten one side stare at it for half an hour then straighten the other side.

I dread every time my sister comes home. She is always a reminder of what I have missed in life and what I am missing. We are not close and never have been.

Does anyone know how to put my banner in the middle? It's driving me crazy...

The realisation that I could loose my cousin is starting to terrify me. He hasn't got his results back yet but fear and imagination are a cruel thing. He's cool with everything. Why don't I know him better?. Regrets.

For university, it took me a whole day to get through half a study unit…which is normally only supposed to take four hours. I guess I can call it a success.

Children of darkness

                                                                                                                                               

Txema Rodriguez

Fiona Coyne was an actress, communications consultant and best known as being the host of Weakest Link South Africa. I remember when a local T.V station sent out a nationwide casting call to find the host for the Weakest Link they wanted someone who was "as tough as nails". In an interview with Fiona after she was cast she very confidently stated "I am honestly not intimidated by people". Man, I envied her!. And she lived up to her reputation on the Weakest Link for her biting comments used to cut over- confident contestants down to size. She was smart with a post grad in Clinical Psychology. But she also had a great heart- being actively involved with charities focusing on nature and education. She sponsored a disadvantaged student through university. She indulged in the finer things in life: theater, opera, travel. Everyone described her as fabulous and feisty.

On the 19 August 2010, her housekeeper arrived at her house to find two letters on the kitchen table, one being addressed to her. In the letter she said she was very sorry and told her housekeeper to call the police immediately, she even wrote down the number. When the police arrived they found Fiona's body in her bed. She had committed suicide. The entire country was shocked and in utter disbelief. In everyones mind, including those closest to her she was the last person that would have taken her own life. Not just because she "seemed" to have it all but her very personality didn't seem to fit the profile of someone on the edge. Fiona had planned her suicide to the very last detail. In a letter to her mother she said she had weighed up the positive and negative aspects of her life and made her decision based on this. This story is especially tragic because just two months later, Fiona's older brother Bruce, heartbroken over his sister's death also took his own life. Sibling love can run deep.

This time last year, there was an amazing story of a man who parked his Audi R8 sportscar at the Table Mountain Cable way station and handed his keys to 8 car guards, saying, "It's yours". The story reached the evening news and everyone was curious about the anonymous donor. Generosity rubbed off on the lucky car guards and instead of selling the car immediately they cut a slit into the bonnet where people could donate money to charity. Eventually they did sell the car, four of the car guards were able to return home to The Congo with enough money to support their families for a life time. Two of the car guards used their money to start a creche for disadvantaged children and donated money to Haiti after the earthquake.

But where this story unfortunately ends is with the donor- his name was Rob Taylor and last week he made headlines again when he took the cable car up Table Mountain and jumped to his death from one of the look out points. Sadly this has shed some light onto his donation and the real reason why he gave the Audi away. Some people believe that he even meant to commit suicide they day he gave his Audi to the car guards. He was a wealthy property developer. People who knew him said he always gave to those less fortunate.

Now closer to home. When we moved into our current house a we hired some people to help us. One of them was a lady who had a daughter- in- law. This daughter- in - law was a diabetic. I am not to sure of the circumstances but her husband really wanted children and so she consulted her doctor. But her doctor gave her devastating news that she could not have children. She went home and apparently took every pill that she could find in the house even vitamins. She was only 25 years old. This has rocked the small farming community where I live. Her husband was so distraught over her death he had to be hospitalized.

Her death has also struck an emotional cord with me and not just because it was suicide. I cannot have children and this has made me re-evaluate how I handled this news ( I shrugged it off ) and what this could really mean for me. One, I have felt very guilty for being able to handle this news so well and two I have realised that the real consequences of this are still coming (will save that for another post). This girl had no previous history of depression or mental illness I can only imagine the emotional horror she must gone through in those final hours.

A few months ago I walked down to the cottage by the lake on the farm scoured the the front lawn for a sharp stick, sat down on the grass and began cutting my wrist with the sharp end of the stick. It really hurt and I wasn't really making any progress because the stick wasn't sharp enough. In the end I gave up because it was sore and I was just making a mess. I went home feeling like a caged bird. That night my Mom took me out for dinner and told me my godfather would be paying for a psychologist.

There is no real message behind this post, just self- absorbed pondering: How were all these people able to go through with it?. Why haven't I been able to?. I have been suicidal since I was 11. I remember standing on the balcony of my room really, really wanting to jump. But I didn't. Why didn't I?. I have been at the edge more times than I can count and I have turned back. How?. I don't think the answer is because I really want to live, deep down inside. Maybe I'm afraid of death- I don't know. During those times I  really wanted to be dead, so how can I be afraid of death?. My sister has always declared that people who commit suicide are the most selfish people on the planet. That has always stuck in my mind. The church I grew up in believed you went to hell- something I think is bullshit but I'm ashamed to say I still wonder about.

Maybe I'm a coward- I won't kill myself by slitting my wrists- it hurts. I hate the smell of petrol so gassing myself in the car is out. I won't jump off something high because being on something high without a barrier tends to paralyze me, and I hate that "falling" feeling. Drowning I know, I just know I will come up for air before I loose consciousness and a dead body in water is...yuck. I don't own a gun and the idea of my Mom being confronted with bits of brain is just cruel. That leaves overdosing but even when I have made the decision to swallow all the pills I have...I. just. don't. do. it.

It seems to be that I am the most picky cowardly suicidal punk that ever walked the planet. I'm too scared to go through with it. So I have been living my life in a rut- not being able to stop being suicidal but unable to actually go throw with it. I know it sounds weird but the people I have written about seem incredibly brave to me.

I'm not sure how to end this...I will still be here tomorrow and the next day and the next.....

Goals/ Resolutions for 2011

I'm writing this in an Internet cafe as my family and I somehow used our 9GB of bandwidth (did a visiting sister downloading music have anything to do with it? Oh no!). It's kinda freaky as the screen is massive and I have people constantly looking at what I am writing.

Anyway, on Christmas day, one of the bloggers that I follow put up his resolutions for 2011...It got me thinking. The only resolution I have ever made on the new year was to loss weight- there was one year I resolved to read the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy but the end of the year ( managed to finish The Fellowship of the Ring just before Christmas of that year...FAIL!)

Christmas and New Years is actually an extremely difficult time for me. I think Steve Martin in the movie Mixed Nuts summed it up perfectly when he said that Christmas is a time that everything you have ever done is placed under a magnifying glass. The same goes for New Years. Another year has passed, I am older and things most likely have either gotten worse or haven't changed at all.
On the eve of every new year, I wonder if this is the year that things will change, maybe this is the year that I will finally be set free from depression, addiction, suicidal thoughts and loneliness. Maybe this will be the year that things will finally start happening and I will get on the road to achieving all those fantastic dreams I had when I was 18 and the world was just waiting for me.

I have finally come to the conclusion that that will never happen. At least it won't if things stay the way they are. There are things I need to take care of first before any of those things can happen. So these are my goals/ resolutions for 2011- most of them are more life goals and the real goal is to at least start something whether or not I finish it.

1. Start to tackle my eating disorder/ addiction to food: I actually feel uncomfortable calling it an eating disorder when I think about people that have died or starved to death as the result of Anorexia or Bulimia, but I have been informed that yes the emotional turmoil  and dependence that is a result of food addiction indeed classifies it as an eating disorder. I have never discussed this on my blog and this year will be the first time that I will be facing it after years of denial. Food has almost a demonic hold over my life it is so deeply rooted in my depression that I sometimes wonder if it is not the same thing. Looking at me you would never know it- no I am not someone that needs to be removed from my house by a crane. But believe me I know what those people suffer. Even as I write this- the first time I am admitting it in a public forum- something painful is stirring within me. I can honestly say this will be the hardest battle that I will ever have to face. But I am ready for it because I desire to be free.
2. Continue to manage my depression: I don't know if God has it in my path to be free of this terror in my life, a lot of you may not understand this but I believe He is going use me and my experience. But I believe that He loves me and will never give me anything more than I can handle. I will continue to do everything I can to live my best life despite my depression and GAD
3. Face my abuse/ forgive my father. As long as I hold onto the past and continue to let hate and pain rule my life I will never be any better. I know why my Dad is the way he is. But at 71 years old and being riddled with heart disease I desire that whenever God chooses to take him His forgiveness and mine will enable him to go in peace.
4. Get a job/ study: I go back to University next month. I have resolved that no matter how sick I am I will continue to study. I have such a huge desire to learn...to study. I am blessed to be able to do this and I will give it my all. As for the job I NEED  to earn my OWN money :)
5. Continue blogging
6. Pay attention to my relationships

So those are my goals to start in 2011. Now that you all ( and the rest of the Internet Cafe looking over my shoulder) know it I am accountable.

Happy New Year!

I have already received the greatest gift.

My last post was very negative, but I stand by it. This is an incredibly difficult time for me personally and for my family. Debt, death and illness are our constant companions this Christmas and I needed to rant, to get all my frustrations out.

We keep telling each other and whispering to ourselves that this too will pass. And it will... what we are experiencing right now is a massive shift and change. Our old lives as we know are coming to an end an a new life is beginning and unless each of us embraces it we will be left behind.

I am destitute right now, I have lost everything. But this morning I began to think of my best friend and my break down when I was in America- how very close I was to ending it. And I realised that right now even though it appears I have nothing I have already been given something that many people can only wish for.

I have been meaning to write this post for a while but quite frankly I just didn't have the words.I am going to write about the people that have kept me alive, pulled me back from the brink when mental illness threatened to engulf me. They are the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Please bear with me because I don't think I could continue this blog without mentioning them- they are all the reason why I am here.

My Aunt: A great sadness and guilt still fulls me when I think about this. I was staying with my Aunt in California when things started to happen that would eventually lead to my breakdown. I don't know, but I have a feeling that my Aunt blamed herself for what happened. What my Aunt didn't know is that a lifetime of trauma, abuse, depression and anxiety was closing in on me. Why it happened while I was staying with her I will never know. I had only met my Aunt a few months before and was so embarrassed about what was happening to me that I did all I could to hide it, instead of confiding in her. Eventually I got to the point where I could no longer hide anything from her as I was slowly falling to pieces. Still, I refused to talk to her. She knew something was wrong and didn't know what to do. Her life was already stressful when I arrived- she was caring, full time for her husband who had suffered a heart attack nine years earlier and had been severely brain damaged as a result. It is only now, having to care full time for my grandmother that I really have gotten a sense of what it must be like. Her husband was ( and still is) a wonderful man and love of her life. What happened to him devastated her.

This woman bore the brunt of my breakdown. Despite that she allowed me to stay with her, rent free, paid the MASSIVE phone bills I rung up (I'm talking like a $1000 people), supported me for three months while I waited for my social security number (someone forgot to do that when I was born) bought me a laptop for university and a camcorder and a camera to document my time in America. She was a lady of few words but through everything she did for me I knew that she loved for me. I am just so sorry she had to see me like that.

My Mom: I can honesty say my Mom is the sole reason why I haven't landed up in an asylum. If you are a mother you can particularly empathize with what my mother has had to go through. Like I said I was overseas when I had my breakdown and my mother was in South Africa. She had to sit through my hysterical phone calls where I was to terrified to form coherent sentences or I was drugged up on sedatives and slurring. She never knew if would be the last time she would speak to me. The hardest most sickening thing is that there wasn't much she could do...except pray. And everyday she was down on her knees having her faith- which is something she has been blessed with in abundance- tested to the limit.

The person that got off the plane when I came home was not the person that she had said goodbye to nearly four years before, just a shadow of her former self. My Mom has had to suffer through my mood swings, she is the sole receiver of my sudden rage attacks, she continually looks in on me when I sleep 18 hours a day. She has had to have almost soul- destroying conversations where I actually tried to convince her to let me commit suicide, that she would be better off without me, that she would move on. And she would say, she'd be lost without me and ask me to please stay. Yep, I've done some pretty heartless things.

My mom is not perfect, she has made some huge mistakes, especially where my Dad is concerned. But she has stayed in hospital with me, held me through all my lumbar- punctures (spinal taps) and endless panic attacks. She organises my meds- that she hates- into pill boxes each week and reminds me to take them. She has dragged me out into the sunlight when I wanted to stay in the darkness. She prays for me unheeded and believes against all the odds that one day I will be healed.

Karen: Karen is my best friend, who lives in America. We met when I was sent as a temp to the company she worked for. I often joke that she must have her house hooked up to the fountain of youth somewhere- she was in her late thirties when I met her but she looked no older than me in my early twenties. Our friendship was still in the beginning stages when I had my break down. I didn't talk to her at first but she knew something was wrong. She had every reason to walk away- I mean I was acting like a freak not mention that mental illness scares the hell out of most people. But she stayed and took care of me. She nearly lost her job because of me. She saved my life. I honestly would not be here if it weren't for everything she did for me. Not just her, but her husband too. He could have told her to stop seeing that psycho South African girl but instead he tried include me in everything they did. Since I didn't have a car he would come to pick me up and then drive back to drop me off- they lived in the next town so this was no small journey.

Many things have gone wrong in my life but I really can say that God has blessed me with true lifelong friends- even if they all live in different countries!. I had lost all my faith in God and even in the existence of God after my breakdown and I wondered why I could hear nothing from Him, why had he abandoned me. I  now know that I was never alone and I do believe he used Karen to make a difference. She changed my life and I now treat people differently because of her.

The picture up top is of a Willow Tree ornament that I gave Karen on her birthday. The picture below is of the one she gave me before I left (That's my precious Basil in the background). It's called "Angel of Remembrance"

This has been a difficult year for many people all over the world and this Christmas will be sad for very many. I'm going to reveal the materialistic side of me and say that I LOVE presents and the fact that I most likely won't be getting any is a real downer. But in the grander scheme of things I have already received one of the greatest gifts anybody can get: I have been loved unconditionally and even better....I have been able to love in return :).

These ads come out while I was recovering from my breakdown and every time I see them now it puts things into perspective.

'Tis the season to be (exhausted, stressed, trapped, MURDEROUS) Jolly

WARNING: For those of you that are having a great holiday season or possess the Christmas spirit with all the warm fuzzy feelings that come with it, this will be an antidote and will most likely put in in a bad mood after reading.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!!, as the song goes. Christmas carols are abound with "Parties for hosting marshmallows for toasting and caroling out in the snow" and then there is the "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, jack frost nipping at your nose". "All for "kids from one to ninety- two" blah blah , "Deck the halls with bells of FREAKING holly"

Bullshit! For one I live in a place where it isn't even winter at Christmas time- today the mercury reached 45C ( 113 F) in some areas where I live. Instead of playing in the snow, we play in the sand on a beach- if we live near to one. Most houses in South Africa are not built with air- conditioners, they are expensive and considered a luxury. So normally on Christmas day we are seeking a pool instead of a fire.

I could deal with that, I have been dealing with it my whole life. But what drives me bonkers at this time every year is that both fate and my family become almost uncivilised.

There is so much going that is causing us to be less than jolly- I might as well put it in point form. Note: This is a rant post some of the situations going on I can't help but be sarcastic about, but there are others that are truly tragic:

• My writing has gone to pooh, I don't know if it's because I feel uninspired due to serious depression, medication or if I am just burnt out with writer's block.  
• My parents and I are in serious debt- my parents under for the breakdown of their business AND my Dad's foolishness with money. As for me?. Let me just put it this way I was very young...overseas...with a credit card. Go figure.
• Because of the lack of money there will be no presents what so ever this year- even buying stuff for a lavish meal seems wrong  knowing that we owe so many people so much money.
• My grandmother who is in the final stages of Alzheimer's broke her hip nearly four months ago and has required round the clock care ever since then (She lives with us) because of this we have never really had the chance to unpack the huge old house we just moved into. This is just the year that my mother's best friend and her family have decided to come to us for Christmas ( we usually go to them ). So we are now in a massive hurry to fix, clean, unpack and decorate the house before Christmas Eve. Take note...this is all DIY.
• The above is in addition to all the cooking, baking and shopping that needs to be done.

On to the more serious stuff:

• I have just started Amitriptyline and am experiencing three of the side effects badly... dizziness, drowsiness and nausea. Add this to extreme headaches from my BIH and horrible depression- not a good mix.
• As I have said before my grandmother requires full time care. If you were ever present for a loved one in the final stages of Alzheimer's you will know the heartbreak, the horror, exhaustion, anger and frustration that goes with it. She takes up literally every minute of our day, we have to go through hearing her scream, shout and talk ALL the time. She can't form coherent sentences to communicate. She is terrified of being alone, yet when we come to her she doesn't know who we are. She's at home but she doesn't know where she is. She sees things that aren't there. Now and then she has lucid moments where she cries and cries her shame, she calls my mother by her childhood nickname and tells us she loves us. Moments later she will descend into darkness again and begin yelling and screaming.
• My Dad hates my Mom's sister
• My Mom's sister hates my Dad
• But my Mom still wants them to spend Christmas under the same roof...because it is "a time for family"
• My Dad's treatment of me has become worse and worse over the last couple of weeks. He thinks I use my depression as an excuse and the reason I am now suffering BIH is because I "did it to myself". He also has no regard for the fact that my meds have serious side effects. Therefore, like my sister, I get no support from him. His constant bullying and downright meanness are wearing me, down making me bitter. My mission to forgive him of the physical and emotional abuse he inflicted on my older siblings and I in the past, is becoming almost impossible. One thing I will still blog about is the part he had to play in my addiction to food and I can tell you right now it is bad. E.g He saw me in the kitchen just now with something in my mouth. The ssarcasm was literally dripping when he said, "Eating again, are we?" and he was getting ready to launch into a full diatribe with the sole purpose to make me feel like crap when I cut him off short, "No Dad, I'm just taking my meds" and I took a huge gulp of water to swallow the ten tablets I had in my mouth.

All of the above mentioned is happening right now....with Josh Groban's Christmas CD playing in the background. Now you know why I said fate as well as my family can be almost uncivilised this time of year. We are a family of misfortune, but it is funny how some of the worst misfortune will save itself until Christmas. And we are all driving each other crazy!.

As depressing as this may sound the perfect Christmas for me would be to be holed up in a deserted house (my sister's flat in Cape Town is the only possibility) with a bag of Quality Street , a take away and a few Christmas DVDs and spend Christmas all by myself with the space and freedom to reminisce on the good and the bad, to cry and to sleep.

I am praying to God to help us, help me through this time. I am praying for strength to be there for people in my family that need me and to take care of myself at the same time. Tonight my mother and I are putting together a shopping list of food we need to buy. Tomorrow I start my marathon of baking as well as trying to turn the dinning room from a storeroom back into a dinning room again. I used to be the biggest Christmas spirit of all time I pray that in all this I will find it again :).

Guiding light on a dark day....

A while ago I had one of those depression days that I seriously didn't think I would make it through alive. God knew I need help and led me to the message on this sign- my guiding light:

Inspired by Christine and Vanessa

My two days in hospital

I wasn't in hospital per se- I basically went home to sleep- Thank God. But I have had to spend the past two days here:

Tygerberg hospital, the 2nd largest hospital in the world...otherwise known as a big- ass state hospital with passages over a mile long. And we walked up and down these passages from Neurology to Psychiatry and back again "conveniently" located on two opposite ends of the hospital. To give you an idea of the length of said passages:

Note how the lights kinda disappear into oblivion

Stopping for a break halfway through

I've said it before on this blog....whatever sadist designed this hospital- knowing that sick patients would have to walk the length of these passages- should be shot. My mom tells me that when this hospital was being built, in the 1970's there was great excitement as it was to be a "high tech" facility with "breakthrough technology"....as you can see that is no longer the case.

As I have also said before, I am truly grateful for the medical care that I am getting- it isn't fancy or comfortable but it has saved my life. I would be blind if it wasn't for neurology and the employment policy at this hospital has ensured that my Dad doesn't have to fork out half his pension each month for my meds (seriously) I get them for free. Not only that, when I think of the lack of medical care some of my fellow South Africans have and  how hundreds of thousands of people on the African continent die each year because they have no medical care. I am so thankful.

But because I am thankful it doesn't mean I have to just love everything about this hospital and it doesn't mean that certain things don't make me very, very angry.

I saw something yesterday that was the absolute last straw and made me absolutely livid... take a look:

See, I made it extra large. Not very spectacular right? . Looks like some construction going on.

Well here is the story. It was going to be a long wait for the neurologist so the ward secretary suggested that my Mom and I go have some coffee (aka coffee- flavoured water). On our way to the cafeteria we passed the "new" psychiatric ward. Whenever I pass the psychiatric ward I can't help but stop, there is always a whirlwind of emotion that goes through my head. Thoughts like, "Will I ever land up here?" "What has stopped me from becoming like the people in this ward?" "What will push me over the edge" race through my head.

Almost immediately after we stopped my Mom and I were caught up by the most disgusting smell and it seemed to be coming from the ward. I went up to the door and peered through the crack, the passage was deserted, the atmosphere radiating out of that door was eery. When I turned to walk back I saw that the side doors leading into a courtyard were open and there were a whole lot of flies buzzing in and out of the door. The source of the dreadful smell was that pile of rubbish in the picture above.... RIGHT NEXT TO THE PSYCHIATRY WARD!!!!. I walked a little closer...I'm telling you people the smell was putrid. The pile of rubbish was actually a lot bigger than depicted in the picture it consisted of wood, rubble, plastic, paper and then food in various stages of decay and other green, black and grey slimy things that I really didn't care to get any closer to. Basically it was a pile of sewage. You cannot see the flies in the picture but believe me they were having a field day

I was in so much pain in these pictures, both physically and emotionally, seeing this awful mess- a total lack of respect for human beings who are unable to help themselves- blew away the paper thin barrier holding back a total meltdown. That they have placed these people in underground, in the bowels of the hospital where no one has to see or hear them, away from sunlight, is bad enough. Dumping a pile of stinking rubbish outside their window that could possibly cause further distress and disease takes the bullshit cake. My mother reacted as any loving mother would by getting me out of there as soon as possible. I plan to write some newspapers about this and obviously complain to the hospital.

I guess really should give an update on my BIH, depression and GAD. The first day I saw a psychiatrist (aka doctor studying to be a psychiatrist). I knew right from the start that this was going to be a useless appointment. I told her that things did get better for a while, but after the break with my psychologist they are now worse than ever, I didn't get a chance to tell her I had been suicidal again because she cut me off and told me that "We don't really want to put you on more medication (I already knew that), I think you should go see a psychologist". That's what I have been doing you stupid woman... did you even listen?!. The outcome of the appointment was that they will try and get me to see a psychiatrist at a hospital closer to me and I go back in March, no doubt to see a different doctor studying to be a psychiatrist.

On to Neurology... a lot of time was spent trying to track down my neurologist (aka a doctor studying to be a neurologist)- they close for the Christmas holidays. Eventually my Mom had him paged and spoke to him on the phone where she demanded that he come in to see me. I was told to come in the next day. We were there bright and early the next morning and  waited for four hours to find that my neurologist and palmed me off on his buddy- surprise, surprise the dude that performed or should I say messed up my lumbar- puncture (spinal tap) three weeks ago. How- ahem- happy I was to see him.

This is where it starts to get funny- he refused to see me with my mother, telling her he would chat to her afterwards ( she had wanted to throttle him after my lumbar- puncture). Judging by the look on her face I immediately began to feel sorry....for him. When he asked what had been going on with me I stifled the urge yell, "You f**king mutilated my spine, you dumbass" and calmly told him that I had been extremely ill since the LP and I still had enormously painful headaches accompanied by dizziness, nausea and extreme fatigue. Meanwhile outside...where my Mom was listening through a hole in the door, in came strolling my neurologist. Poor guy... my Mom pounced like a cat on a bird. I could hear her threw the door and immediately fell sorry for whoever was on the other side of her wrath.

Dude checked my eyes- found my optic nerves weren't swollen, although they did appear scared. He asked me a few questions but I already knew what he was thinking: He didn't have a clue what was wrong and that most likely my depression was to blame. We spoke about surgery and it turns out that although my spinal pressure was high, they will not be doing surgery at this stage. I then told him nonchalantly, "So I guess  it's all in my mind then" He didn't really know what to say but eventually said "It's real to you- that's what matters" I told him good luck with my Mom. He told me I was a sweet girl.

We went back out into the passage where Mr. Neurologist had amazingly been able to calm my mother down. We stood talking for a while with him and Dude doctor. The compassionate side of them eventually emerged when Dude doctor said, " I would say now that your BIH is under control but your depression is definitely out of control". It was probably the only thing Dude doctor was able to hit the nail on the head about. Immediately I began tearing up and it was that that put them into action. They called in the psychiatry rotater and for a while there was some finger pointing going on. Neurology were telling Psychiatry that my problem was clearly psychological. Psychiatry were telling Neurology that it was clearly neurological. Somewhere between all of this I began to think about Homer Simpsom...for some reason. Eventually the heads of both departments got involved, seeing them trying to meet each other half way to find a solution was interesting. Eventually it was decided by everyone to put me on Amitriptyline an anti- depressant used a lot by neurology for management of migraines. I have been on it before. Needless to say my Mom was not happy- another pill. I have to go back for another eye test in January and will hopefully have my checkup the same day.

In between all this we found this little guy:

 The pictures don't really do justice to how very tiny this little sweetheart was. His name is Joshua and he was born prematurely. He is a month old and only weighs 2.2kg (4lbs 8oz). He has to wear dolls clothes because he is so tiny. When this picture was taken he was about to have surgery for cataracts on both eyes. His mother was beaming with pride and loved showing him off. We told her that he will be a piano player one day because his miniature hands have such long fingers and he held onto my finger with the most amazing strength.

You see it's this that I am grateful for. Tygerberg with it's stinking rubbish heaps, disintegrating walls, rude staff, toilet paperless bathrooms, looong waits and befuddled student doctors, kept this little boy alive and will give him the ability to see. There will always be things to be thankful for, even in a pile of ashes.

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Things...they are not too good

So I wanted to make a post on Friday...and then Friday turned into Saturday. Saturday somehow became Monday and I have been wandering around the house for most of today wondering what to write. I know there is a post in there somewhere but I am not sure how to write this.

For as long as I can remember the closer Christmas draws, bad news whatever it may be will find me. I have to be very delicate in sharing this as I do not  want any ill- favor to fall the person that is involved.

About two months ago I was horribly, severely depressed...more suicidal than I have ever been. It was the first time I felt I had no choice. However part of me was either afraid of dying or didn't want to give up so I actually told my parents. My Dad told me well done for confessing but there was nothing he could do for me as he "had no money" and he then ignored me. My Mom reacted with as much love, compassion and fear as she has. She always does that, I didn't think anything would come of it but I scared her more then I thought and she called my godfather who offered to pay for a psychologist. She also called a lady that I have known since I was a baby who is a church counsellor.

To cut a long story short I have been seeing this psychologist for about two months. Two weeks ago her secertary e-mailed me the bill as she had failed to get in touch with my godfather ( he lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere and travels often). I was firstly hit with shock and guilt at the amount and then secondly began to really worry that....it hadn't been paid. Two more weeks went by, my therapist would briefly bring the bill up and I had no idea what to tell her. I soon found out though that the school fees of my twelve- year old cousin- which he also pays for- were seriously overdue. I made the decision then and there to tell my therapist the truth and stop therapy immediately until the bill had been paid.

I have just found out that my godfather's business partner has done him out of a lot of money and there has been an ongoing court case where his brother's grown up children are suing the family estate for another whole lot of money. Basically....the guy is strapped.

Now let me explain a few things...my godfather is actually my mother's first cousin- my second cousin. He is the patriarch of a giant family and ALL the family member with problems come running to either him or my mother. He helped my parents put my sister and I through a private school, fully paid for my last year of highschool at a private homeschool, helped me go overseas, paid some of my university fees. As I write this I want to cry because I feel so guilty....and thankful. He has given my parents money more times than I can remember. Right now he is supporting my loser aunt and her whole family by paying their rent. If I could count how much money that woman has manipulated him to give it would probably run into millions.

I am more than grateful that he has done this for me because it pulled me back from the brink.

But I am now left with a massive bill that neither me or my parents can pay. Money that is being set aside for me to go back to university is dwindling as it is. And it has sunk me even further into the mounting debt that I am struggling to pay off. Not only that, the stress and pure fear this has brought me is undoing all the hard work that I have done in the past weeks.

During the day my hands are full with teaching a six year old little girl to read and write and generally taking care of her. Although this has been exhausting it has been a blessing in disguise because it has kept my mind off my troubles. But at night, or whenever I get a chance to be alone, the terrible dread fills me. It is not just my debts although that's enough to cause sleepless nights, it's the fear that I won't be able to go back to university therefore not be able to go to Japan ( it may be a weird aspiration but it's an aspiration that means a whole lot to me). I want to live and extraordinary live and achieve the impossible- that feeling is the last shred I have of the old me, the me the died when I had my breakdown and I have been clinging onto it with both hands but it is slowly slipping away.

Most of all I want to get better or be in a place where I can managed this wretched illness that has plagued me for as long as I can remember. It has nearly killed me, it makes me want to die. I kept remembering what one of my church counsellors told me, that I have never known freedom. I remember that because he was right. How tragic and funny that the apple is always dangling beyond my reach.

I have been busy while writing this post. I have not seen my therapist in two weeks and my mother made an appointment for me tomorrow. This has made me feel very uncomfortable and quite frankly I don't feel like talking to anyone right now. While writing I have attempted to cancel my appointment only to be stopped by my mother. This has resulted in huge argument between me and my parents ( funny how my Dad always reappears when the arguing starts). I don't really know what to do, I am dreading the appointment tomorrow. Of course my Mom told my therapist that I have been sinking further and further into depression since I have seen her. I feel a reprimand coming my way.

If you have been reading this post, thank you for reading it until the end. I wrote this hoping that I could transport some of my fears from me into cyberspace, where hopefully it will disappear forever. Maybe it will work....