Quick update…

Hi there. I know, it’s been ages. I just seemed to need a bit of a break from blogging. Maybe you know how it is. There’s not much point in writing if the inspiration isn’t there. That would be boring for both of us.

I’ve been doing a fair bit of user consultation work, connected to a local service user organisation. On the one hand I feel quite confident in the quality of the work I am doing. On the other, I am having some difficulties with the politics (small p) surrounding this organisation, the way it was set up, its history and the way it operates.

I feel in a difficult position as a result. What it amounts to is that unlike most other London boroughs, mental health service users in Haringey do not have a dedicated service user led and run organisation to look out for their interests and to make sure that we are adequately represented in decision making about our own services. It’s bloody annoying, can I just be honest?

A friend of mine is of the opinion we have simply been stitched up by the mental health powers that be. One thing I am sure about is that the current situation is untenable, as the coordinators of the organisation are not service users and seem unsure themselves as to what the function of this organisation really is.

Well there’s other stuff. I have been defrauded on an Abbey cash machine to the tune of ‘a ton of money’ and getting the Abbey to wake up and deal with it adequately is a job in itself. I intend getting my money back (even if I have to take them to court) and then switching banks and I would advise any of you still with them to do the same. Their customer service is diabolical and I have found out that consumer surveys find them to be the worst bank in Britain.

Veggies have been growing magnificently in the garden!  Plue I have been teaching myself vegan Japanese cuisine using recipes on the internet, and frequenting a local Japanese grocers. My avocado sushi rolls are something else! The first time around I made a complete hash of it but I persisted and now am quite competent, although I got mirin confused with rice vinegar so still have a way to go with the ingredients. Have to say I have NEVER been in a Japanese restaurant in my life as I didn’t think they were all that vegan friendly…also shop-bought sushi can be pretty tasteless and disappointing, at least the veggie variety. I’ve been using brown sushi rice for extra nutritional value and I think it works well…

Cats both in fine fettle and meow out a hearty hello to you all…Lots of love, Zoe. xxx

Falling back in love with life…

Hi my dearest peeps. About a week ago I felt my mood lift significantly and realised I was no longer depressed. Obviously, an enormous relief.

Am attending various meetings at and on behalf of my local Service User Network. One project is setting up a research group. The first piece of work we are lookng at doing is around the concept of ‘recovery’, that over-used buzzword in the world of mental health services. What does it actually mean to service users themselves, we will be asking. We will be interviewing a cross-section of service users, analysing the data, then eventually compiling a report. We have to put in a funding bid first of course.

I think this could be potentially a very exciting and hard-hitting piece of work. First of all we have to get the funding and recruit some more member for the group. I feel a new sense of purpose and passion about getting a much better deal for users in our borough, which I have to say is reputedly one of the worst. There is a high level of need and a corresponding poverty of services.

We have lettuce, spinach beet, coriander, parsley and thyme growing in our veggie patch in the garden, all doing well  and fingers crossed there won’t be a massive slug/snail attack to come now that the weather has gone a bit crap. I have strict instructions to go out there at all hours of the day and night to murder snails in cold blood if necessary. Strawberries will come soon and then tomatoes.

The two cats are as gorgeous as ever. I had a long meeting with my son’s social worker on Monday and felt much reassured as a result. Am seeing him again on Monday morning for a new update on my son.

Oh, and I went for a ‘full works’ at the hairdresser yesterday afternoon and now feel exceedingly well-groomed as a result. Half-head of highlights and touch up of my (copper) roots, and long layers cut into my hair. Instant lift to the confidence.

Take care all and thank you so much for reading! Lots of love, Zoe.

The Play of the Blog…

Time for an update I’m sensing, folks. First of all, for the benefit of anyone who doesn’t already know and adore Seaneen’s blog, this afternoon a play went out on BBC Radio 4 called ‘Do’s and Don’ts for the Mentally Interesting. You should be able to find it on the ‘listen again’ facility here: (Listen again: here is a handy link)

Well I listened ‘live’, wild horses wouldn’t have stopped me.  It worked brilliantly on so many levels. I can see it DEFINITELY being used as an educational tool for mental health professionals, and for consciousness raising among the general public, helping carers to better understand what their loved ones with a mental illness are going through. Also it is a cracking drama with sparkling witty dialogue, wonderful, warm and lively characters (Seaneen and Rob mainly), a love story and the tragedy of the early death of a much-loved parent. It’s really got it all. So off you all go and listen!

For mental health service users like me, it is just such an uplifting listen. There are far too few true representations of mental illness in the media and when they do happen they often ring a little false or contrived, because basically, they are not written by, or with the input of, real sufferers.

Seaneen is a remarkable young woman and a fantastic advocate for us, the ‘mentally interesting’ community. OK , I don’t know if she would agree with that appellation, but the reality is that anyone who puts themselves ‘out there’ publicly with the bravery and honesty that she has really is an advocate whether they know it or not.

There are probably a lot of folk out there who are ‘mentally interesting’ but are more or less forced to stay ‘in the closet’ to some extent because they don’t want to end up having to take enforced premature retirement. For others of us, like me, I don’t have so much to lose, and I guess I do see it as a kind of duty to be as open as humanly possible about my condition. And I do feel I can be some kind of advocate.

I am getting more involved with a local mental health service user network. A group of us are looking at doing some research around the area of recovery: what does it mean to service users? I am getting enthused again. Getting a bit of bounce back in my step.  You can tell can’t you?

Had first session with new therapist yesterday. She’s German, I think. Lives in the Tottenham Roundway, where you wouldn’t expect to find a therapist living! Almost surreal.

Enough for now. Lots of love, Zoe xxx

The Rocky Road to Recovery…

The citalopram would definitely have seemed to have done something. But I know I’m not out of the woods. I’m quite nervous, anxious and jittery. I’m smoking a fair bit (and am normally a non-smoker). Yesterday I bit off a bit more than I could chew by taking a bus to Charing Cross Road to get a book that I decided I just had to have.  I know, what was I thinking! I could have ordered it but I couldn’t delay gratification!

But no harm done. I just realised that I have to nurture and protect myself until I am well on the mend. I struggle to find the words to describe the mental states that I went through over the last few weeks. Even here, where I know I would find a sympathetic and possible empathetic audience. So no wonder the ‘normies’ of the world don’t get it.

And when you can’t get it across, that contributes to the isolation. You are locked into your private hell. What saved me was being able to reach out and ask for help, even if it I couldn’t always articulate why I needed it.

Although the dread, terror and panic has largely subsided I am still left with a certain residue of continuing insecurity, loneliness, low self-esteem.

But hooray for citalopram. It seems to have done what it said on the tin, which has never been the case for me with any other antidepressant. I just wish that massive, rusty, arthritic machine the NHS could have moved a little faster for me at the time I needed it and got me on the stuff a lot sooner (when I presented at ERC on Monday 6th April). I was passed from pillar to post a few times when I was in deep shit. That isn’t really good enough and I shudder to think what could have happened if I had been more of a risk to myself.

But hey. I’m still here! And insecurity notwithstanding, I do know that there’s a whole lot I can do to help myself, while a week ago I thought I was more or less condemned to die. For now it’s enough to keep taking the next best step.

And I’m starting to catch up on my bloggie friends’ blogs too. We’ll never be alone folks, when we’ve got each other. Lots of love, Zoe.

I’m back!

Hi everyone. Blimey, it’s been three long weeks since I felt up to posting here. I have been over at moodgarden quite a bit in the last week however. The folks there have been very helpful and supportive.

So honeys, what happened? Well I thought things had bottomed out, then for a coupla weeks they just got worse all of a sudden. It was a scary experience. I had a headful of dread. Of guilt and shame. Panic. I stopped coping. Had to go to bed for a few days. Then had to force myself to get up again. Have been under the Crisis Team for about a week. Seen several different psychs in the last week. May be going back on Lithium alongside Depakote but not sure yet.

Have now been on Citalopram for two weeks. Maybe they’ve done the trick for me. Certainly the last three days have seen the depression lift to a great extent.

I’m not out of the woods and still feel intermittently tired, wrung-out, jittery, isolated, anxious, somewhat dissociated from the world.

But I am more sure than ever that therapy holds out some hope for working with my condition. I am pretty much convinced that some of my symptoms stem from trauma (PTSD), and this interacts with the bipolar. While the bipolar may or may not improve with a change of meds or staying on the same ones, the trauma is definitely something that can be amenable to therapeutic intervention.

And I will also say that despite having been in one of the most awful places I’ve ever visited (sheer suicidal hopelessness) I also realised that I feared such thoughts, and was able to reach out and let others pull me out of the swamp I was in. That I love life and want to stay alive AT ALL COSTS! That other people’s kind interventions made a huge difference to how I felt. That being able to share how I felt honestly and openly and just be heard and not dismissed kept me hanging in there…with gratitude and hope in my heart.

I was ‘lucky’ throughout this horrific time to be at least able to sleep at night. Sometimes it was the only respite I got. But at least I could look forward to laying down my head on the pillow at night and having only fairly sweet or neutral dreams, or just blessed oblivion, for about eight or nine solid hours. Without meds.

So, I think I’m back folks. Beginning to take the baby steps of getting my life going again. Trying to resist the temptation of biting off too much at once. Gotta give up the fags sometime soon. When the time is right.

Hope I haven’t lost all my readers! Lots of love, Zoe xxx

So very low…

Hello Peeps. Just when I thought I had bottomed out, the mood proceeded to drop even lower. That’s why you haven’t heard much from me in the last few days. I’ve been stuck in a brute struggle to survive.

Utter despair. Depressive thinking which tells me that there really is no point at all in going on like this. That my whole life is a sick joke at my expense. I struggle to find the words to say just how bad this feels. But I know there’s a lot of you out there who can at least take an educated guess.

I had two serious episodes of mania in the space of a year. Both times I was hospitalised, both times major depression for months afterwards. This is really no way to be living.

But I am marshalling every scrap of strength I have to get the right help and support.  Trying to get some psychotherapy in place. Contacting my services to let them know what is going on. I’ve got an appointment with a new psychiatrist (mine has switched teams) a week tomorrow. It can’t come soon enough. I only hope I can hold out till then.

I have got to take meds for this. I think I’m under-medicated, given the severity of my illness. I may need an antidepressant and an anti-psychotic as well as the mood stabiliser. On it’s own it just doesn’t do the job. For someone who would infinitely prefer not to ingest a lot of chemicals this is a hard thing to admit. But if it’s the meds or my life, well I want my life back. Two episodes in a year is just not acceptable.

 One thing I managed to do that I was proud of today was to change my computer over from Orange ISP to Virgin. I had to mess about connecting all kinds of leads, then go through the set-up process. Required a fair bit of help from tech support. But I did it. Yay for me.

Reduced to abjectly praying for some kind of release. Maybe the time of year can provide a little tiny bit of hope or inspiration. Jesus suffered on the cross but he rose again. Whether you believe it literally happened or not, it is a powerful metaphor, and who knows that better than we bipolar peeps?

Suicide is not an option. Fight on and on and on.

Off On Retreat…

Some days are execrable. Some days mild. Yesterday I had agreed to go to the cinema with a friend who has a free pass (for two). We were going to see a Bollywood movie, but then she changed her mind and we went to ‘The Boat That Rocked’. This turned out to be the most appalling stinker of a movie, despite the usual stellar cast that Richard Curtis always seems to marshal. Be warned peeps! The worst thing about it was the virulently misogynist strain that ran through the whole sorry mess of unfunny ‘comedy’, pointless ‘plot’ and general confusion of what this film was for. Truly wince-making and a blot on the reputations of all who were involved, especially the idiot Curtis.

Seeing it in the less than palatial surroundings of Wood Green’s particularly horrible Cineworld didn’t help. This is truly a shithole of a cinema, but to be seeing such crap on top of it really didn’t help my mood.

This friend is going through a lot at the moment and to be honest I agreed to go more out of pity for her than out of any real desire to see her or the movie. I know that sounds terrible but it’s the sad truth. I kind of couldn’t wait to get away.

I worried all day about an exchange R and I had had the previous evening. We have a history of bad rows. I feared that it would escalate into one of those just at a time when I feel so horribly vulnerable. At the best of times I am profoundly disturbed by angry exchanges between us. The emotional repercussions for me can last for days. Just now is not the time to be embarking on any major conflicts.

At the same time I knew I could not just let this one go. So I raised it on the phone and we were able to talk it through reasonably calmly. If we can just manage to hear the other one out properly with respect for their experience and point of view, there is no reason why things should degenerate into the bunfights of old. On this occasion he did listen. I was relieved beyond words that we were able to sort it out and went to bed feeling better.

This morning I am still OK. Have packed my rucksack ready to go off to a small Essex village on an OA retreat for the weekend. Take care dear peeps. Love, Zoe xxx

My Depressive Day

Hi there. Depression has properly bottomed out now and got about as bad as it gets. What does this mean for me? I wake up full of fear, dread and loathing at the thought of the day ahead. However, for me personally, there is absolutely no point in staying in bed. That will make matters far worse, as my brain will just go into overdrive while my body stays immobile. Maybe it’s because I’m a morning person.

Once up things improve a little. My brain is sluggish. I am bereft of ideas and inspiration. Right now I could do with some, as I need to put some structure and routine activity back into my life. I want the comfort of knowing I have done something productive with my day.

A well-meaning worker yesterday began talking to me about CBT. Do I interrogate my negative thoughts for evidence of their accuracy? No I sodding well don’t. I haven’t the energy. The tracks of depressive thinking are so well-worn. I am sceptical about the efficacy of these techniques for the kind of mood disorder that I have. Last time I tried CBT I was simply too depressed and distraught to engage with assignments and so on.

I can’t see colours. I could tell you what they are, but  my senses are so deadened I can’t enjoy their vibrancy as I normally do.

I’ve had a lot of anxiety piled on the depression of late. Especially concerning my son, as previously documented. Now I’ve calmed down a bit.

However on the plus side I have started reading books again. I even watched three TV programmes on the trot last night. A rare thing these days. One was a fantastic documentary about a Japanese couple by a British man, in the ‘Hidden Japan’ series on BBC4. They were a part of Japan’s new underclass of ‘working poor’. It came to light that for the many casualties of Japan’s uniquely conformist, all-encompassing and sometimes bullying working culture, there are very few services to support their psychological well-being. We are luckier in this country than we sometimes think. I was very absorbed by this programme, losing myself and my mental anguish for the duration of a few hours.

During my depressive days it is best to get out and engage in some reasonably low-level activity along with others, if possible. Yesterday, after meeting with my Care Coordinator in a local cafe I went to my DRA meeting in central London and went for coffee afterward with four others.

Then I attended a singing class in the evening at the day centre. I have pretty much never been to this before although it’s been running for years. It was actually rather good. The teacher is passionate about singing and music, and their therapeutic possibilities: she’s also a great singer, and she writes songs. We sang some uplifting standards, like ‘Lean On Me’, and ‘What A Wonderful World’ by Sam Cooke. That probably sounds cheesy as hell. But it wasn’t. I will definitely go back.

Evenings, and most especially, nights, are what I look forward to when I am depressed. My mood tends to lift. I am blessed with good, sound sleeping patterns and not being an insomniac. So I know I have the ‘little death’ to look forward to where I can dream of better things and just be oblivious for those few precious hours.

The new washing machine was delivered today and I have already put it through its paces. I go on retreat at the weekend at Pleshey, a small village near Chelmsford.

Lots of love, Zoe xxx

Busy Day

Not a bad day today. For one thing I was finally able to speak to my son’s social worker. I discussed the business of the blog, and my anxiety about my son, given that he has barely been in touch etc. Social worker was very nice. He said he would have a look at the blog with my son when he sees him next week. As this is all such a sensitive matter I had better not say any more about that. I asked for a meeting with the social worker following his meeting with my son, and he agreed to that. Just to find out how he was.

As paranoia is now stalking my every blogging step I might have to go back and do some more word searches to make sure there are no specific place names concerning contact with my son.

Anyway, back to today. I had quite a lot on, which is good. Had to go and buy a new washing machine in the morning. Mission accomplished. Got a Bosch and arranged to have it delivered next Tuesday. After that had arranged to help a friend of mine who has got herself into difficulties at the local day centre . She wanted me to attend a meeting with her that she would have otherwise found intimidating. It went OK. I spent an hour or so with her afterward discussing the outcome and other concerns she has about her life at the moment.

It was quite easy. It strikes me that maybe I could make a go of being an advocate, as I have a diplomatic nature and am good at relating well to both service users and staff. So I can be a good mediator. It’s definitely a thought.

I kind of wish there was some kind of professional qualification you could do as a service user to work with other service users. Proper training around mental health and working with vulnerable people etc. Maybe there is! I just haven’t managed to track it down yet.

Then I went to see friend A. But friend A has not been too good lately. She phones or texts me all hours of the day and night (not that I take all the calls) and then starts ranting about her parents or something. Also she’s been smoking cannabis. A big no-no for someone with her vulnerability. We got into a discussion about mental health issues today and she started to get really angry with me. I’m afraid a case of shoot the messenger, and also taking your anger out on the wrong person. Then she asked me to leave so I did. That was a little upsetting, but I wasn’t surprised. I could see the way things were going with the strange phone calls, and the last time I visited, when she was smoking weed.

Talking to people about their stuff, mental health issues, whatever, is endlessly fascinating to me though. I love trying to understand how people tick.

So I took myself off to Sainsbury’s for a therapeutic shop. I’m shopping and cooking quite beautifully now that I’m thoroughly grounded. No more packet noodles! Even made an apple crumble today.

Oh and yesterday the gynae check was reassuring. There is a small cyst which is probably a result of ovulation (so said the doc) on one of my ovaries, but the scan of my womb looked ‘pristine’…all pink and shiny.  So I need to go back in three months and have a trans-abdominal scan just to check whether the cyst is still there.

Tomorrow will try and write a letter to my son. Explaining the steps I have taken to make the blog more anonymous (and that I really didn’t expect him to be reading it!). Of course I don’t even know if it’s that that he objects to. I’ll mention it but otherwise talk about other topics.

Tomorrow I also have to attend a focus group of the Haringey User Network at the local library. Should see many friends, both old and new, there.

Cats miaow out a hearty hello to you all…much love and thanks for putting up with all my nonsense, Zoe xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Anxiety Through the Roof

Oh God. I have butterflies in my stomach, churning anxiety. It’s been building for weeks and now this business of my son and the blog has brought it to a head. It’s fed into all the shame and guilt that’s native to the depressive state.

If only he had explained to me before what was troubling him. I’ve righted the wrongs as far as I can by removing all mention of his name going right back to 2007, and also removing my email address, which contains my full name. But I’m still beating up on myself for not keeping strict anonymity before. How could I be so stupid, naive, negligent etc. I know it was a mistake, and just hope that I can forgive myself and be forgiven by him in time.

The absolute last thing I ever wanted was to hurt my boy in any way. When I started out, on Blogspot, I didn’t seem to have many readers, and few comments. I guess it lulled me into a false sense of security. I regarded the blog almost as a private diary, and a way of keeping track of my moods and how I was doing when I withdrew from psych meds.

It’s different now. I have far more sense of the blog as a public space. Hence I have been more careful about using his name and have been referring to him as J, but occasionally it did slip out. But I neglected to pay attention to the earlier entries. Not to speak of the times where I’ve been manic and hence more indiscreet about details of my life generally (though not especially concerning him). At the end of the day this blog has never been geared towards members of my family reading it, let alone my son.

I am also anxious about a hospital appointment I’ve got this afternoon. It’s a gynae check. Anxious about living. Equally anxious about dying.

I feel agonised and very depressed about things at the moment. Self-esteem in tatters. How many more times do I have to be stretched on the rack of manic depression. What, in the end, is the meaning of it? Meaning and significance looms so large in the ‘high’ phase. Then you come crashing back down and you search in vain for the point of anything.

Horrible.