Sleep, Dumb Sleep

Scrap that last post. Sleep is good and all when you get it but it completely sucks when you have trouble getting to sleep.

I am so awake yet so extremely tired. Pure exhaustion is what I feeling but can I fall asleep? Noooooo!

What an absolute prick of a state to be in! I long for the release of sleep but it just isn't happening. Believe me, I've been trying for that elusive sleep. I've been in bed for hours but when I turn off the TV and cuddle up to my pillow that's as far as I get.

Worse still, I'm so tired I can't bring myself to do anything useful. My whole house is filthy but I don't have the energy to clean it. I can't even be bothered doing something that I would usually enjoy ... working on one of my websites for example.

Ugh!

Maybe I shouldn't complain too much. After last night's limited sleep and feeling incredibly dopey all morning, I did fall asleep in the afternoon. In fact, I slept for around three hours. I guess that is part of the reason I am still awake tonight but unfortunately it doesn't make me feel any better about the predicament I find myself in now.

I am really missing my crazy meds. At least while taking Seroquel I was guaranteed of a good night's sleep. I could drink as much coffee as I wanted in the evenings. I could do whatever I wanted before going to bed. With the help of the Seroquel I slept regardless.

And while I am busy complaining, what is with feeling just as crappy now I am off the pills as I felt when I was on them? That is so not friggin' fair! I still feel down almost constantly. I still can't get excited about life by any stretch of the imagination. I still ... *insert any number of things here*.

*Sigh*

Maybe all I need is to have something to sink my teeth into. If that is the case I can't wait until the TAFE holidays are over and my next term of study begins. Let's hope that is all it is.

Update: Okay, I relented. It's now 2:15am and I have just finished sawing one of my Seroquel tablets in half. Half a one is better than a full one, right? Anyway, it is down the hatch now so hopefully I will be getting some sleep in a hour or so. Thank goodness for that!

Sleep, Glorious Sleep

Last night I actually slept without the aid of Seroquel. How about that! Okay, well, it was an incredibly short sleep (maybe four hours) but it was a good sleep … no tossing or turning at all. Oh, and yeah, I still feel tired this morning but ya get that. I guess there is just no pleasing me. *smiles*

I Want, I Want, I Want!

I want my own domain! I want, I want, I want!!! * insert childlike foot stomping here *

For a few days now I have been mucking around with a WordPress blog over on my centralqueenslandcemeteries.com domain. (Yes, that's right ... I already have my own domain). I set up a new blog on a subdomain just for fun, found myself a cute little WordPress template (be stuffed if I can write my own ... that php stuff is just too much of a mystery to me), and even made a couple of posts.

The problem is that the subdomain thing just isn't working for me. To begin with adding a personal blog to the centralqueenslandcemeteries.com domain feels plain weird considering the type of stuff I write in my blog. It doesn't fit with the original website that sits on that domain. Additionally, half the time the blog doesn't load. Now that's a pain and a half when I want to write a post or just take a look at the cute little cartoon characters that appear on the template.

So ... I want, I want, I want!!!

Is it silly to pay for another domain (not that it's all that expensive * smiles *) just to plop a blog on it when blogger works perfectly fine? Mind you, I could always move my Central Queensland Cemeteries website over to the new domain and just let the centralqueenslandcemeteries.com domain lapse when it is due for renewal. That way I could have my website and my blog. I would just need to pick a good all-rounder type of domain name that suits both my blog and my website.

Mmmm ... choices, choices, choices.

I want, I want, I want!!!

Breathe Me

During my travels around the Internet yesterday, I stumbled across a song which sums up how I have been feeling a lot over these past few weeks. The song is Breathe Me by Sia and the lyrics are as follows:

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there’s no-one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I’m needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found
Yeah I think that I might break
I’ve lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I’m needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I’m needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

What a powerful little song! Over the past few weeks I have felt terribly alone, even if in reality I haven’t been. I’ve felt like I have lost myself. I felt like I was breaking apart. I have definitely felt unsafe.

Sometimes it is hard to express oneself. In it’s own way, coming across such a song helps to let it all out.

No Brainer

GBF travelled up north for a conference this week. He took my camera with him and, as a result, arrived home with a bunch of photographs from his travels. Here's my favourite photo though. It's my new motto!

Something a Little More Lighthearted

The following is stolen from the current issue of Australia's "That's Life" magazine (issue 38, September 20, 2006) and appears in the "Your Letters" section. It really is one of those Homer Simpson "D'oh!" moments. Kinda funny! *smiles*

My partner and I had to attend a ball but being heavily pregnant, I didn't want to spend a fortune on a new gown. So I rang around a few formal hire outlets to ask if they had maternity formal wear. A male voice at one particular establishment asked, "For women?"

Reminds me of a song ... "Folks are dumb where I come from ..." LOL

Some "Light" Reading and Way Too Many Thoughts

"It is impossible to know who we are unless we can remember where we’ve come from (Middleton, 2005). We are defined by the journey that thus far has brought us to here. The more readily we can access the past that shaped us, the more that we can own and share with those we trust the feelings and vulnerabilities that have accrued from our life experience, then the more likely it is that we will be empathically receptive to others. The less we have 'no go' zones in terms of what has happened to us or the feelings associated with such events, the more likely it is that we will have assembled functional personal boundaries, affective stability, healthy self-esteem and be self-activated enough to aim high in the pursuit of love, work and play. The capacity to remember, and the capacity to process pain lie close together."
(Middleton, 2006. p.23)

Last night and this morning I have been doing some "light" reading (a whole 112 pages worth ... eek!). When I googled "dissociation and depression in the non-traumatized population" I stumbled across a paper, written by the Australian psychiatrist Warwick Middleton (whom I was actually "head shrinked" by when I stayed in a Brissie hospital for a few weeks a couple of years ago), entitled "Reconstructing the Past: Trauma, Memory and Therapy". It is actually a background paper to a seminar he held earlier this year representing an extension to the exploration of some themes covered in the paper: Middleton W, De Marni Cromer L, Freyd JJ (2005). Remembering the past, anticipating the future. Australasian Psychiatry,13:3, 223-233. My pdoc gave me a copy of that particular article a few months ago (which reminds me, I have to get the thing back to him) in order for me to gain a better understanding of dissociation which, unfortunately, it didn't. (Hello? Where's my traumatic background? Did I traumatise myself by overdosing or something? Why does everything I read have to be related to trauma? It doesn't make any sense for my situation. There has got to be something out there that I can relate to ... surely).

Anyway, why am I quoting the above text? In a sick, perverted way I almost wish that I did have some sort of past trauma to contend with (my apologies to anyone who has lived through the hell of an abusive situation). If that were the case then it would give some meaning or reason to the way that I am now. Depressed ... yep. Dissociative ... I don't know. Traumatised ... nope. It just doesn't make sense.

"The less we have 'no go' zones in terms of what has happened to us or the feelings associated with such events, the more likely it is that we will have assembled functional personal boundaries, affective stability, healthy self-esteem and be self-activated enough to aim high in the pursuit of love, work and play."

Yes please! I wish I felt stable. I wish I had a healthy self-esteem. I wish I was self-activated (actualized ?) enough to aim high in the pursuit of love, work and play. Sounds great, doesn't it? These things sound like the ingredients to a happy, healthy and productive life.

Instead I am sitting here wondering why the hell I am so useless, thinking that Hubby would be much better off with someone else besides me in his life, and wondering why I have been reacting so negatively (especially in relation to my pdoc's therapeutic endeavours ... medication and otherwise) over these past couple of weeks.

The scary thing is that there is no causal relationship with anything for me. I am the way I am. The old argument of nature vs nurture (did I do too many psych 101 classes or what!) appears to tip significantly to the side of nature in my case and I don't like that. It means that I am a flawed individual who just needs to pull herself up by the boot straps, stop whinging and whining and get on with life. Mmmm!

Anyway, I have been thinking way, way too much since my last pdoc appointment. I have today and tomorrow in which to finish my TAFE work for the term otherwise I will fail. There is no doubt about it, I need to spend today finishing off the last of my TAFE work. Anyone got the recipe to turning off the wandering mind and focusing on what has to be done?

Phase Three But Close To Failure

Well, I've still been following my little "decreasing my medications to nothing" plan but it is becoming harder and harder to keep a hold of my resolve to do so. It's been nothing short of a roller coaster ride. I'm either experiencing the lowest of lows or almost dancing around the house making up silly little songs to sing over and over again. In short, I feel like I am losing control of me.

Despite the glaringly obvious disadvantages (which I have been writing almost constantly about in my long-hand, offline journal ... stuff which is just way too dark and rambling to publish here), there are advantages to not taking as much medication.

Yikes! What are they now? I've forgotten them in the time that it took me to write the preceding sentence. Geez! Okay ... try to get back on track here.

The advantages:

• regaining the ability to cry
• the up periods, despite being somewhat of a mixed state, can almost be described as wonderful
• despite the pain, feeling, even the negative emotions, seems like it might be more normal than the constant and unreal suppression of feelings and emotions due to taking medication.
• I seem to be dreaming far more regularly
  

Then there is the hope that if I can manage to withstand the roller coaster ride of "withdrawing" from my medication dependence, then I might just find "me" again, that the depression will somehow just magically fall by the wayside and maybe this nightmare will simply vanish into thin air.

As an aside, I rang up the local public adult mental health service a short while ago, primarily to ask them if they knew of any other private psychiatrists in the region. Apparently my pdoc is the only one. I suspected that to be the case though.

The woman who answered the phone was very docile to say the least. I had to tell her several times that I was already a patient of my pdoc's. It was like, "Hello! I'm not just a person who is ringing up your service to get an appointment with your pdoc for the hell of it! In fact, I'm not even ringing up to get an appointment with your pdoc at all for goodness sake." In amongst all her rambling about either needing to get a doctor's referral or having to go through the service's ACT (Acute Care Team, I think) which apparently is a long and drawn out process (who the hell cares ... I'm not trying to get an appointment, remember!), she mumbles something about there not being another private psychiatrist in the region. Yay! Access to the tiny bit of information that I was actually after, albeit almost hidden in amongst her verbal diarrhoea. *Sigh* And they wonder why people just give up.

Anyway, enough of that aside.

So yeah ... I guess my point is that I am not so sure about going off the medication any more. It's been a hard thing to do. I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. I was kind of hoping to show my pdoc what I was like sans medication. After all, he has never seen me off medication. I don't think I will be able to hold out until our next appointment though.

I'm still mystified about this therapy business too. It would appear that my pdoc does not know how to deal with my silences during therapy appointments. He is unable to draw me out and get me speaking. Believe me, I have tried to do this on my own, but I can't do it either. I don't know if the goal of therapy is to discover why life sucks so much for me, but I'm certainly unaware of the pdoc and I discovering any of my issues, why I feel this way almost constantly ... yadda yadda yadda. Consequently, I am still depressed. I still would, quite frankly, rather be dead than having to live this so called life of mine for however long I have left to walk on this godforsaken earth.

I don't know. Maybe I should just forget the whole thing. Screw the medication. It doesn't work. Screw the pdoc and his therapy. It hasn't worked either. I don't have a real psychiatric illness anyway, so maybe I just need to get over myself, stop thinking that there will be a moment when suddenly I will understand why I live with constant depressive feelings and that by knowing this, that the depression will go away forever. It's never going to happen. There must be millions of other people who live with depressive feelings every day of their lives, but they have learnt to cope, that it is not an issue anymore for them and that they actually contribute to this world instead of hiding out in their lounge room in front of their computer doing nothing like I do.

*Sigh* Get over it, K. Your mother was right when she called you pathetic. I'm a pathetic, spoilt little bitch that just needs to get a freakin' life no matter how much I don't want one.

I'll regret this post later. In fact, I think I will regret the whole blog. I should rename it to, "The Pathetic Little Immature Bitch's Constant Whinging That Nobody Deserves To Have To Be Subjected To".

Bloody Hell! Who's Next?

First it was Steve Irwin and now Peter Brock. Shit! How many more Aussie icons have to pass away this week?

I've just heard on the news that Peter Brock, an Australian champion racing car driver, was killed in a racing accident while competing in Western Australia's "Targa West" rally. Apparently the accident occured around 1:50pm AEST today.

I'm in shock! I grew up watching Brockie race around Brisbane's Lakeside Raceway. Dad used to take my brother and I to watch every race when the touring cars rolled into town. I was even lucky enough to be present at Lakeside in 1997 when Brockie farewelled full-time racing.

At least he died doing what he loved, I suppose. R.I.P. Brockie! You were my icon!

Phase Two Started

Well, I have to say that these past few days have been absolute hell. My general mood has been really low and I've been thinking about harming myself ... not just the usual benign self harm either, but thoughts of overdosing again. It is only because of Hubby that I have stopped myself. I am reluctant to put him through it again. It wouldn't be fair. At least, by thinking of his side of things, I must still have some logical thought swarming around in my head somewhere.

Dispersed within the low mood have been moments of feeling completely out of it, like I'm stoned or something (dissociation?) and even moments of a sort of fake elevated mood where all I can do is giggle. I must admit that I kind of liked the fake elevated mood. It's nice to have a bit of a giggle about anything and everything. Feeling a little out of control during these times is the downside though. As for the stoned feeling, well, I am used to that.

Another notable thing that has been happening is I am crying. Who would have thought, hey. I am actually able to cry again. It's been so long since I have been able to release my emotions in this way. The medications that I have been taking have definitely blocked that ability. It sucks feeling so distraught and hopeless that I have been crying, but it is nice to be able to do it again.

Despite the rollercoaster, I've decided to persist with the decreasing of my medications plan and ultimately becoming medication free by my next appointment with my psychiatrist. If he has given up on me, then I am within my rights to give up on his medication, right? (I realise that's probably faulty thinking, but hey, I can't be completely logical ... it's not my style).

Perhaps something that has renewed my determination to stick to the decreasing of my medications plan is I woke up this morning feeling, well, alive. The world seemed real for the first time in a long, long time. The sun was bright and there were little things happening all around me like birds chirping and the like. I even feel like I have enough energy and motivation to finish off my TAFE assignments today. Cool, huh. Let's hope this feeling continues and I don't crash later on in the day. I have my fingers crossed.

Its a Strange One

Today has turned out to be one heck of a strange day. This morning I woke up just after 6:30 to my husky alarm clock. I spent the morning on the computer, primarily compiling an alphabetical list of names for my Central Queensland Cemeteries website. It was a hard slog though, so I didn't get much done. Even during the morning I felt a little tired and unmotivated.

The afternoon saw me watching a little television, snoozing on the couch for a spell and spending a little more time aimlessly wandering around the Internet. The tiredness definitely had a grip on me by the afternoon and even though I really needed to get stuck into my last TAFE assignment for the term, I just didn't have the motivation to even begin work on it, let alone focus on it for any length of time. It almost goes without saying that I didn't have the drive or energy to get off my butt and cook a meal for Hubby's crib tonight. Thank goodness for takeaway, even if it does cost a fortune.

Tonight is just plain weird. I've gone beyond the tiredness I think yet I can't bring myself to do anything. I tried cleaning up the kitchen, but I only got half way through clearing the clean dishes from the dishwasher before I stumbled back to the couch. I feel strange too. The weather is hot and sticky. I feel like lead. I'm as sluggish as a sloth. My mind is devoid of thought. I am totally not with it. I could barely converse with GBF when he was trying to talk to me earlier. It was just too strange trying to keep up with what he was saying.

So, is the decrease in medication finally catching up with me? Damn, its hard to tell. I have the potential to feel as off as I do now any old time I guess.

I'm still a bit concerned about going off the medication like I planned to do. The medication feels like my crutch and I am scared of loosing it. I just have to keep focused on the end result I am trying to achieve.

Karaoke Murri Style

Tonight saw NAIDOC week's final event, "Murrioke", a night of singing and drunken revelry. Although only a small crowd was in attendance, it was a spirited group which was ready to party. Consequently, I would say that a good night was had by all.

I must admit though, that when it comes to karaoke and singing in front of a crowd, I am a huge piker. There is no way anybody would be able to get me up to that microphone and I managed to give it a wide berth tonight too, thank goodness. My dubious singing voice is better left to the confines of the shower.

Although it was a good night and I was surrounded by a bunch of wonderful people, I can't say that I actually enjoyed myself. I don't know what is wrong with me. I tend to feel lost and inadequate in a crowd. My inability to loosen up and just enjoy myself is incredibly frustrating. I think I need to bash my head up against a brick wall several times and just get over myself or something. Grrr at me!

Don't get me wrong though. Tonight certainly didn't suck by any stretch of the imagination. I'm starting to get to know these people quite well and I truly admire them and they are a joy to be around. I think I am just firmly entrenched in my non-feeling, non-emotional state at the moment, hence the ambivalence.

First Day Went Okay

I went ahead with the decrease in my medications as I outlined in yesterday's posts. So far so good too. I don't feel any difference whatsoever, so that has got to be a good thing.

I am feeling really tired though. Mind you, I have been feeling tired and unmotivated for about a week now which is kind of annoying, but I suppose that will pass. At least I hope it will. I would really like to finish up this term's TAFE work by the end of next week, so it would be nice to get some energy and motivation back. By doing so I will have an extra week up my sleeve until the end of the term just in case I need to take another look at any of my assignments.

Despite the tiredness and lack of motivation, I attended my town's NAIDOC (National Aboriginal and Islander Day of Celebration) celebrations today. I got to admit that I turned up really, really late though. I didn't wake up until after 10:00 this morning, the time when the celebrations were scheduled to kick off. Bugger! Waking up so late and taking so long to drag myself away from the computer and my cup of coffee and cigarettes made me miss all the speeches and stuff. I did get to see the dancing though, which was cool.

On the way home from the NAIDOC celebrations I had an urge to stop by the nursery to see if there were any nice plants to put in my new(ish) garden. I ended up buying some very cute little begonias. I'm not usually into little flowering plants, but these begonias had the coolest little waxy leaves. I ended up planting a whole heap of them around the edge of the garden, so once they grow a little and flower some more they should make a colourful garden edging.

Speaking of buying new plants, I bought this fantastic Kangaroo Paw plant yesterday. It is absolutely gorgeous and will make a wonderful addition to my front garden. I'm going to have to plant it tomorrow while the soil is moist from the rain we've had over the past night or so.

Actually, it is kind of funny me writing about plants. Who would have thought that I would get interested in gardening. Now that is a shock! I sound like an old nanna sitting here talking up my gardens and new plants. How scary is that! I must be getting old or something.

Anyway, that is enough from the rambling old nanna tonight. *smiles*