Getting there

So it’s been over a week since surgery and I’m feeling a bit better.

The hardest time was actually over the 6th and 7th days.  I felt tired, weepy, ugly… I hadn’t slept very much and the lack of proper food was getting to me.

Today has been a turning point though. I saw the surgeon today and he took my stitches out. He said I can try to have some thicker liquids (lentil soup rather than broth!) and take the bands out to brush my teeth properly (so far I’ve only been able to brush the outside, not inside) so that should help me feel a bit brighter and cleaner.

I still should be sleeping upright but I’m getting pretty sick of that so I might just start lying down again. I think if I could sleep I’d feel much better.

My friend M from uni came to visit today, she brought me flowers and we went out for coffee and had a gossip about what I’ve been missing. It was really nice to get out and see civilisation.

P has his viva tomorrow. I’m so nervous for him, I almost feel sick. I just wish I could help in some way but I know there’s absolutely nothing I can do. I hope that after it we can pick up where we left off – I’ve not seen him since before surgery. I’m actually really nervous about seeing him again – what if he doesn’t like the way I look?  I’m still a bit swollen and bruised.

I guess I should try and think positively. I’m getting there. Slowly.

Circles

I’ve spent a few hours over the last 3 days reading old blog posts. A few things have come to my attention.

1. Around the beginning of every month I feel more depressed and useless than normal – this is evident in my blog posts as the ones in the first week to ten days of each month are darker than those at the end
2. I respond very well to good weather
3. I create a rod for my own back sometimes – worrying and stressing about things (mostly to do with people) makes me act crazy and I fulfil my own fears
4. My moods were stabilising just before I reduced the dose of my medication; afterwards, they went crazy for a while and they’re only just settling down now. I remember Head Doctor saying it takes 6 months for your brain to adjust to a new dose of medication; mine changed in May/ June (I think) so that means it might be Christmas before I feel normal again

Mostly though, I’ve noticed how I run myself in circles, following the same pattern of negativity and sabotage. Sometimes I read my posts and think yeah I can see where you’re coming from and other times I think bloody hell Suzy, what are you doing? The strange thing is that although I still need that sense-check, I’ve not been doing it lately.  But think about it – I’ve had a lot of change to deal with: I’m in a flat I don’t like (it’s too cold and our downstairs neighbour is a big fat horrible freak), I’ve started a whole new career, with new people, in a new environment, I’m commuting a long way, it’s coming into winter and getting colder and darker… I’m bound to be stressed and tired.  So what am I expecting of myself?

When I wrote my recent posts about thick skin, I was in a foul mood and was suffering. I didn’t rein myself in, I just let the mood run because I was too tired to keep it in check. But just days afterwards I am kicking myself because I realise now that I made myself miserable.

Months ago, when I was down I would write here and get it out of my head. Over the summer I lost the habit, partially out of laziness (I wasn’t in front of a computer all the time, like I was in my previous job) and partially because I didn’t really want to think or talk or do anything. At the time I thought I was going mad, but now looking back at previous posts I think it’s a combination of a reaction to change in life and a change in medication. Those two things are heavy hitters – they have a major impact. So why am I so surprised that I’ve been affected?

I really need to give myself a break and recognise that I’m not losing it – there will always be setbacks, but they’ll pass.

Thick skin

I need to grow some.  Apparently.

I’ve had a really tough week.  Not for any particular reason; everything was just hard this week. A chore. Something I had to endure. I’ve been so tired (in part down to the daylight saving) and felt stupidly stressed by tiny things.

It got to Friday and I had suggested to the other PhDs that we go out to the November 5th bonfire and fireworks near the uni. Because I just stopped caring, P took over the organising and about 10 of us went – it was good fun. But afterwards we ended up going to town for dinner (by the time we got a table it was about 9:15pm) and of course I had the car, so I ended up being stuck with 9 other people who were all drinking.  Therein  began the torture.

I became the butt of everyone’s jokes, people were making snidey comments (albeit in good nature) that the others found hilarious. I laughed along but felt victimised, and became more and more isolated so withdrew from the conversation, but that only made it worse. P was no help, and the others (who don’t know how pathetically sensitive I am) just carried on blissfully ignorant of my growing discomfort.

After dinner everyone went to the pub but I still had a 40 mile drive home, so I took my leave. There’s a party tonight that everyone is going to. I’m invited, but I don’t know if I can handle another night of feeling about as popular as a hair in a sandwich. P keeps telling me I need to grow some thick skin and not take everything personally, but as hard as I try, when I’m feeling low or tired I don’t have the resources to be able to rationalise things. Last night was one of those occasions and I don’t want to do that again.

I need one of two things: instant thick skin, or a break. The latter might be more achievable.

Maybe this time

I went to see head doctor this week.  I’ve been feeling generally rubbish for a few weeks and I haven’t really been sure why. I’ve been tired, melancholic and unmotivated.  Things that usually would appeal to me have zero attraction.  I feel myself withdrawing from everyone and everything.

There’s been no sense for how I feel.  Usually I can figure out a root cause for why I feel, but not this time.  It’s a mystery, and the confusion and frustration associated with that is adding to my general malaise.  I am at a loss this time.

I was 10 minutes late for my appointment; I couldn’t get parked.  That made me stressed and there was a physical pain in my chest; I almost could feel chemicals in my blood racing round and antagonising my brain.  Simple things are so difficult; minor problems are catastrophic.

When we talked about how I’ve been feeling, head doctor mentioned the “d” word. I accept that I’m not happy, but I’ve not considered myself “depressed” for a while.  But when she asked if I felt that way, I had to fight back tears because it pulled at something that I was hiding, intentionally or not…  I think it is back.

But, this time can be different, right?  This time I’m prepared.  I have expectations of how this will go, and I can try and head off the worst of the symptoms by intervening before they get the better of me.  Maybe this time I’ll control it and come out the other side in one piece.

Attack of the stress monster

Urgh.  I hate stress.  I have come to the long-awaited conclusion that I cannot deal with stress.

I’m sure I used to be good at stress; when I worked in consultancy I was constantly stressed but still managed to get things done.  Now if I even have one non-perfect thing in my life I find everything becomes unbearable.  I get a bad case of ostrich disease, and my mind and body goes into meltdown.

Take last week.  I had a deadline for a research project I was doing at uni, I officially ran out of money (and am confined to the house this week out of sheer poverty), I had loads of stuff to organise and I generally wasn’t feeling good.  So my mind shut down – I couldn’t connect with anyone or anything.  And my body started its own little revolution – on my face.  I have about a dozen evil little spots.  I never get spots.  That added to my stress and I refused to leave the house all weekend so then I got grumpy and I couldn’t sleep because I’d used no energy.

This week I’m trying not to let it get to me, but it’s hard.  My usual outlets (spend spend spend, oh and exercise) are off limits – the former because I’m skint and the latter because the evil hip bursitis of death has flared up for some unknown reason. I’m going to a ballet class tonight – not my usual classical ballet; that clashes with my teaching schedule at uni, I have to do ballet fusion instead – and I’m cooking healthy food (baked sweet potato, yum) to try and make my body happy.  Have to see if it works.  If it doesn’t, and I stay fat and spotty, I might have to paper-bag myself.

I’m not dead

I’ve just got some stuff going on.  I’m back from holiday, but everything is weird.  I’m really, really tired.  I didn’t expect to feel like this.

Brain freeze

Remember when you were a kid and drank your milkshake too quickly? And you got a major headache because it was so cold? Remember how your brain used to go fuzzy? That’s what my brain has been like for days.

I only have 2.5 days left here. But I have so much to do, and it’s impossible to get motivated. I’m too tired to think in a straight line and I know I have to write two reports but all that I can think of is the weird dream I had last night, where I tried to leave work on my last day but work turned into a department store and I was arrested for trying to steal a bra from our web manager (who is a man)… I have no idea.

Anyway, point is, I need to do work but can’t. I know the next 2 days will be horribly stressful if I don’t make a start now, but that threat isn’t enough to kick my brain into action.

I’m just too tired for this, and the prospect of rest isn’t even on the cards now because next week I’m off to Ireland for 5 days because I promised my parents, then I have a few days off then my friends from France are coming to visit and I feel obliged to hang out with them because they’ve come all this way, then I have another few days then I promised I’d go home to see my sister before she goes to China for 6 months… so by the time I actually get a rest it will be almost August. And then I’ll have to start thinking about my PhD more seriously and planning my research.

I know it’s my own fault because the prospect of being alone with my useless, neurotic brain is too terrifying – so I keep putting things in my diary to keep me occupied, but really I think a few weeks with just myself is probably what I need. Too late now though. I’m doomed.

Oops, I did it again

Do you have such a dramatic realisation that it actually feels like you’ve been smacked round the head? I had one such realisation last night.

Back in 2007, when Evil-Ex-Best-Friend (EBF) dumped me, she said I was too aggressive when things didn’t go my way. When I started seeing Head Doctor I admitted as much – I have expectations and if they don’t come to fruition someone will face my wrath.

I did work really hard to try and get on top of this, but last night was a painful reminder that I hadn’t conquered it yet.

I’ve been kind-of speaking to P again. We had an awkward few days where he basically admitted that he couldn’t deal with the burden I placed on him. We got past it though, I admitted I was looking for something that I couldn’t find and blamed him for it. So, last night we met for a drink. It was weird, he was really distracted, I was really down, and we just talked about how rubbish everything was.

I mentioned that I’d been getting into bad habits again, because I was so tired from finishing work and was so stressed with work and the move and everything, and he said he had noticed. He said that he thought I had unrealistic expectations about what it meant to be a friend, and that when those expectations weren’t met I got really aggressive. I felt like a ten-tonne weight had dropped on me. I had no idea that he felt that way. Looks like I’ve done it again. First EBF, now P.

Why is it that my expectations are so warped? I don’t get it. Is it that my expectations are based in what I want, not what is realistic? Like, I want someone to come and fix me. A friend to the rescue. But, that’s not going to happen, is it? Everyone has their own crap to deal with and doesn’t really have room for mine.

See in my logical, rational head I know this. But there’s still that part of me that really wishes someone could help. But nobody can – and I guess nobody should. It’s my responsibility to get better, and only I can do it. I want to get better, I guess things are just a bit much at the minute. I hope that changes once I finish work and get some peace.

Crossroads

I’ve not written for a while. My head is rather confused. I don’t know if I’m coming or going and I can’t get my thoughts in order. I’m going to see Head Doctor tomorrow but I really don’t know what I want to talk about because I’m so confused. The tiredness isn’t helping either, I never seem to get enough rest. I’m binging on chocolate and bad food to keep myself going but it’s starting to make me feel bad. I need a break.

Stuck in my own head

Work was seriously boring today. I got so bored I even gave up my quest to have the tallest to-be-recycled paper stack in the office – I recycled it all, so I failed in my plan to leave a paper mountain under my desk for admin to deal with after I’ve gone. It was standing at 3’5″.

Anyway, because I’m bored my mind has been wandering. Lots. And it keeps drifting toward the same thing: I can’t deal with this silence between me and P. After the move last week I haven’t heard anything from him. Not a peep. And it’s really bugging me, for several reasons.

Firstly, I just moved into a new flat. Even loose acquaintances have asked if I settled in yet.

Secondly, I was in a bad way. It was bloody obvious too.

Thirdly, I scolded him for being insensitive, and that should warrant a response regardless of it’s nature.

Finally, just days before the move I got another message from him saying he missed me, and could I come and meet him. So why the silent treatment now?

There is the possibility that he’s just got other stuff on, in fact it’s highly probable, but everyone has stuff on; I had stuff on when I got his ‘miss you’ message but he said he’d had a rough few days so I figured that’s what friends do, right? They make allowances for others. Even if someone was über busy, a ‘how are you doing?’ text takes all of five seconds to write. So what’s the obstacle?

I’m confused, annoyed, tired and worried. It comes back to my perennial problem: is it me? Am I actually the bad wolf and that’s why all my friendships go awry? Or is it my expectations; am I just expecting too much? Should I settle for what I get, or should I push for better treatment at the risk of losing people?

This is going round in my head constantly, keeping me awake at night and distracting me during the day. I’m struggling to do nothing, but what something should I do?