Having been off work for such a long time with (what I think is) a pathetic reason, I’ve become quite self loathing. I’ve never particularly had much love for myself, I’ve never given myself any sort of reason to, but I’ve recently come to consider myself a really loathesome little creature. Too scared to even choose a place to eat with Chris, anxiety attacks at the thought of inviting a friend to do something and so little faith in my abilities that I can’t even get beyond the very preliminary thoughts of doing anything worthwhile. On top of that is the overwhelming sense that even if I were to somehow come out on top, there wouldn’t be a place in the job market for a girl with no useful qualifications and a nearly two year gap on her CV. What motivation do I have to make the extra effort required?

My Mother's wedding day

My Dadcu, before he walked my mum slowly down the aisle.

Well, I might have found something. My granddad, my Dadcu, my mother’s father. I’ve never known him a healthy man, but he’s approaching his eighties now and it’s really been showing lately. Not so many months ago gout caused by diabeties meant he had a leg amputated at the knee. Some years before he was rushed to hospital  for reasons that I can’t remember, but I know it was a close thing. Last night, the 29th of March, he had a heart attack. Today, he’s in a medically induced coma, fighting for his life.

In his own gruff way, he has always wanted the best for my brother and me. He bought me my first computer when I had to start writing essays for school. He was always generous with things he thought served a worthwhile purpose and I’ve spent my life drowning in myriad worlds of books and stories brought to me in part through his encouragement and generosity. He would give me the occassional £10 and whisper to me ‘Don’t tell your Grandmother’. He taught me pretty much everything I know about sports but always refused to teach me to cheat at cards.

I’ve seen him overcome so much, and I know he will overcome this latest threat. He wouldn’t leave my gran on her own like that; he promised me he’d look after her. He has to get better. I can’t let him go to the grave knowing his only granddaughter to be a failure. I have to show him I’m worth something, that all his encouragement wasn’t for naught, that the failure I’ve been so far isn’t all I’m ever going to be.

I don’t know what I’m going to do yet but it needs to be something that will make him proud to be my granddad. My Dadcu.

More than 30 years ago.

Henry Ronald Rees, late 70’s


Prozac, and the other Seven Deadly Sins.

So, as you may have noticed, my treatment for depression hasn’t been going anywhere so far. I’ve had ups and downs, but mostly downs. So today, my doctor has given me Prozac. He called it Fluoxetine, so I didn’t realise what it actually was until I came home and googled it. He’s also putting my name forward for CBT (Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy) on the NHS. I assume that this means St Leonard’s Gate

So, Prozac. Wikipedia tells me ‘Fluoxetine was shown to be effective for depression in 6-week long double-blind controlled trials where it also alleviated anxiety and improved sleep.’ This would be brilliant if it worked. Depression, anxiety and poor sleep are all big problems for me. If it works like it claims to, this could really be the break that I need to be able to get through the CBT and take something useful from it.

Wikipedia goes on to say ‘The recent research suggests that a significant part of the resistance to the SSRIs paroxetine (Paxil) and citalopram (Celexa) can be explained by the genetic variation of Pgp transporter. Paroxetine and citalopram, which are Pgp substrates, are actively transported from the brain by this protein. Fluoxetine is not a substrate of Pgp, and thus a switch from paroxetine or citalopram to fluoxetine may be beneficial to the non-responders’

What brilliant news. I’m all hopeful!

However, this week I’m not allowed to take anything at all, since I need the Citalopram to ‘wash out’ of my system before I can start taking the new stuff. So please bare with me if I seem more hopeless and rubbishy than usual.

I love you all for putting up with me.

One step forward, two steps back.

So, I was feeling pretty proud of myself a few days ago. I’ve been feeling a whole lot worse than I’ve felt in quite a long time recently and I think I worked out why. I was suffering for a few days from a stomach upset of some kind, meaning that everything was evacuating my system super quick. This included my anti-depressants, meaning that I’ve had no new stuff going into my system for however long I was ill for, and what was already built up in my system has been slowly reducing in power. That infect was increased by the decongestants I’ve been taking to get rid of the horrendous cough/cold thing I’ve got, which make antidepressants less effective.

So I’ve been very low recently. I managed to hold off for some time, keeping strong and keeping myself safe from harm. But this morning I couldn’t get out of bed. It was an impossible task. I weighed a hundred tons, my insides made of lead, crushing in on myself. So I had to do something. I had to do SOMETHING to make the day possible to face. So I did it. I did something that I was so proud of not doing just a few days ago. And it let me get out of bed. It let me get dressed and go out and face the day. But now I feel so guilty. So small and so insignificant. So pathetic. Worthless and a waste of time and effort. My friends try so hard to keep me happy and sane and I go and let them down this way. I never, ever wanted to do it – I never wanted to let you all down. I feel like a phoney and a fraud for accepting the praise from my post the other day.

So this post is to say sorry. Sorry to everyone I let down. Sorry to everyone who is disappointed in me. Sorry to everyone who tried to help me and now feels like their time and effort have been wasted.

I don’t deserve you as my friends and family.



Hi everyone.

I jsut feel like I need to apologise to the people who are spending their time picking me up off the ground where I fall or curl up. I’m not having the best of times at the moment and so I’ve not been myself particularly, especially less cheerfulness than usual and more quietness and angst.

So yeah, sorry if my problems are having any negative effects on any of you guys. It’s just impossible to get help from the professionals for anything. I finally plucked up the courage (and the fear) to go to the doctors, and I got told to go away and think about whether I want meds or councilling and come back in a week or two. So I (being currently worried about being a danger to myself) went to try and make an appointment with the counciling people. They couldn’t even give me an appointment or any idea of when I might get one, they just took my number to call me when something came up. So apparently, all those times I said ‘there’s no point going to see the doctors about mental health problems’ I WAS RIGHT. And you know what? I wish I hadn’t been, because I could really do with some real help right now. I have my friends of course, but there’s only so much they can do and only so much advice they have to give. Plus, it’s not fair on them – hence this post designed to apologise for being so needy lately (especially to a particular few people who know who they are and have done more for me than they probably know).

But as they say, things are probably going to get worse before they get better. I’m not seeing the doctor again until Tuesday and that’s about six days where I have to try and not do anything more stupid than what I’ve already done. Six days of reminding myself that knives are for eating with and NOTHING MORE. Not that I want to scare you all – I just figure there’s no point in lying about any of this. I mean, I’m terrified that people are going to judge me badly because of all this (or worse, ask me questions about it and be pretend concerned).

So essentially what I’m saying is that I really appreciate the people who have been there for me and that altough I may continue to need people, I’m really sorry for it all and if I thought I could get through this all on my own I would, so I wasn’t preassurining anyone else or stresing them or anything. Because I really hate the thought that I’m letting any of you down by not being able to cope on my own :X