The morning after the rant before...

So last night I had a melt down.

Nothing completely new, I have gotten to this point before on many occasions, but this is the first since I've been back on medication. I need another purge so I'm going to go back a bit and try and put down in writing some of the things that have been going on in my head in the last 6 months and go from there.

I think that the worst emotional symptom of my mental health problems is the paranoia. I recently admitted this to my mother and she actually said something along the lines of Hallelujah, you can finally see it! I asked her why she hadn't tried to point it out to me, and her reply? You were so paranoid, would it have helped to know your mother thought there was something wrong with you or just to know that I was here for you. Touche mother, touche!

Paranoia is insidious. It creeps into every relationship. You suspect your boss thinks you're not doing enough, your friends don't really like you, you're only being invited to things because people feel sorry for you and there is no way you are good enough for anyone who you might desire a relationship with.



Nice to see I was putting all this onto my friends and co-workers. None of them actually did anything to deserve the blackness I was painting on their souls in my mind. The guilt for this is something I am still working to rid myself of and the actual paranoia still visits me sometimes. Like last night.

One of the worst physical signs of my mental health is my Obsessive Compulsive Hoarding Syndrome. Some of you may have seen those TV shows on hoarders? That's my life. Until very recently I had a path from my front door to a chair in the lounge, to the bathroom and to the one side of my bed that was clear enough to sleep on. Today I only have the bedroom and the kitchen cupboards to clear, it may take me a few more weeks, but I'm working on it. I hadn't seen the carpet in my lounge since I moved in 2 years ago.

It is draining when you hoard. You can't invite people over. You are embarrassed when you have to. You see pity (and compassion) in the eyes of those who make it to your front door, and I don't think anyone likes pity. I can always find things in my house, no matter how bad it gets, but that's not the point. It's unhygenic, it's infuriating and it is not safe for my physical or mental wellbeing.

Back in August I went overseas for a trip. I visited family and friends and had an absolutely amazing time. I came home and I had the post-holiday blues, but it wasn't just that, I was jealous. A deep green jealously that ate away at me. Every female family member I saw was announcing her pregnancy. It felt like a huge cosmic joke. These are all 2nd children, all desperately wanted and I will love each and every one. Two of the mothers spent their formative years telling me they didn't think they would ever have children, while I played with my baby dolls and my prams. Even when I came out I was certain I would have at least one child.

I'm slowly coming to the realisation that it may not happen. I know I could do it alone, but that has never been my goal. I want the whole package, Mr/s & Mrs and Baby makes three. It may not happen. and that might be okay. I just can't quite picture my life childless. It won't be of course, I have too me neices and nephews to ever truely be childless. They all love their Aunty Ginger.

So I got back from overseas and had this eating away at me. I'd just started a new job before I went away, and it was (and still is) awesome. I had that going for me. But I was down. I was depressed. And then my Aunt L got worse. Aunty L had ovarian cancer, it had been around for a couple of years, but had been held at bay the Christmas before with some surgery. This time there was only going to be one way out.

In early December I had finally had enough. I was crying every day, some horrible things had happened to some close friends and as much as I wanted to help them, I found that I was hurting myself in the process. I talked to my mum, made an appointment with the doctor and actually went.

I'm pretty sure my doctor is one of my guardian angels. She took one look at me and asked me what was happening. As I opened up to her she asked rational and insightful questions. She didn't doubt a word I said and everything she suggested she gave me a choice in without judgement. Yes I'm going back on SRIs, no I won't touch sleeping tablets if I can help it, here is a plan for me to get through the next month and then I would go back.

From November through to her ultimate death on the 29th of December 2013 we all held our breath. Aunty K had further treatment for her ongoing Melanoma, but didn't share with everyone due to Aunty L's condition, Aunty L held on and held on and held on until we thought she may just never let go. Christmas was subdued and there was a sigh of relief that she was no longer in pain when I finally received the call from my Uncle to say she had passed. Many tears and much sadness, but we came together as a family and got through it. I'm not sure I would have been able to keep it together if I had not made that visit to my doctor.

Aunt L's memorial was held off until one of the last weekend's in January, drawing out the process. I lost it at the funeral. My upright, strong, stern uncle was a mess. Everyone lost it when the grandchildren started their readings. 65 was far to young to go. Her youngest grandson was 9 months old and she died on one of her grandaughters birthdays.

I got through that though. I was there and able to say my goodbyes. They day Aunt L died, mum and I found a photo of the three of us at Christmas when I was about 11 or 12. We cried, but happy tears. Just a few days ago when I was taking my lounge, I found more photos of us. That smile will always light up my thoughts.

I went back to the doctor and we upped my meds by half, a month later the generalised anxiety was still popping up and the OCD & hoarding we still just as bad, so we upped it again. Aunt K by this stage has been dealing with the spread of her melanoma through her leg. A specialised treatment was suggested and agreed upon, the other option was amputation. I'm hoping the treatment she received last week works and we have a few more years together yet, because I can't lose her too, that will potentially destroy me.

I'm now on 2 & a 1/2 times my original dose and things are starting to click for me. I'm halfway through clearing out my house, I'm making new friends, I even had my first crush in ages! (First crush on a woman in years) and even though it didn't go anywhere, dealing with it like an adult and talking about my feelings and hers has meant I now have a strong friendship that I will value even more.

I know this is rambling and full of unpleasantness, but if you've been reading my blog all along you will know I've been dealt a few hard knocks through out my life. And those are only the ones I've chosen to share. There are other things that have affected me badly that I chose not to share as I don't want to implicate others or cause a storm of ill will.

We are all fragile as human beings and some of us don't form a natural armour to help us through life. Be good to one another people, you never know what someone else is actually going through at any one time.

Love ya guts
J