RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT

OK, I am feeling in a very ranty mood (had you guessed?) and am very irritable and anxious about leaving the apartment. Which I had to. To get cigarettes. (Saw 15 people and it was very scary).

*Trigger warnings about Suicide*

As I put on Facebook, and I quote:

"I don't care who Gary Speed is, it's a tragedy for his FAMILY not for FOOTBALL. Think of that you two faced morons, when yesterday if it was one of your family members/friends you would have been whinging about how selfish they are for committing suicide."

Because I really do feel this. I was probably on Twitter too long reading the most random retweets and comments about how sad it was and just felt, "what about the forgotten others, who don't earn millions, who don't have high pressured jobs, who are scraping by on benefits.  What about those who commit suicide? There isn't so much outcry when that gets reported.  And how many times have I heard from the stupid English who frequent the bars for Apres Ski in this mountain town who spout on about someone they've heard who has committed suicide (friend/family member/ friend of family member) as being selfish and cowardly for taking their own life.

And the news reports about Gary Speed - quotes from friends and other players at how this is a tragedy for football.  Er...What? Tragedy for the family methinks.  Tragedy that someone with a bit of depression is expected to pull themselves together. Tragedy that there is still so much stigma about mental health and that it takes a bloody celebrity to get people taking this seriously.  Now I am not knocking that Gary Speed's suicide is anything other than very, very sad.  But this applies to ANYONE who commits suicide.  A friend of Gary (I think some kind of football manager) said that he had seen him the day before and he seemed his "usual self".

Oh Dear.

Non-mentalists just don't get it, do they.

WE HIDE IT WELL.

WE DON'T ANNOUNCE THAT TOMORROW MORNING WE ARE GOING TO KILL OURSELVES. 

We hide it and we do it. We may have planned it.  It might have been a spur of the moment thing. And if we don't succeed then everyone starts bandering the phrase "Cry for Help". OMG, I nearly punched my Psychiatrist when he mentioned that to me.  A cry for help implies that we are trying to get attention for what we have done.  It's more like a last minute change of mind when going through the attempt.  Or that someone has picked up on what is going on and sent the ambulance round before we could finish it off. For me, it was the look my cat gave me and I just thought, "who's going to feed him?". Does that sound pathetic - yes it does, but that was the wakeup call to my doctor who shipped me off to hospital.  And I was embarrassed afterwards.  I was mortified.  Mainly because I hadn't suceeded in making the unbearable pain go away.  Thats why I like to sleep so much - when I am asleep, I don't have to experience the crippling pain and emotions.  Sometimes the thought of going to sleep for a very long time seems more appealing than just 8 hours. But unfortunately, the same shit greets you when you open your eyes.

Imagine having some disease that causes you unbearable pain and discomfort, that people around you don't want to try and understand, or if they do and you find a confidante, quickly becomes bored of you "whinging on" because that's just life isn't it.

I watched my dad die of cancer over a six month period.  He couldn't move, he couldn't speak so he couldn't communicate.  He was in that hospital bed having his arse wiped and his trach tube painfully suctioned all day and all night.  When they finally put him on a syringe driver, you know it is the end and I swear, if I could have broken into that box and pushed the lot of morphine in, I would of.  He was a shell, being kept alive.  And for who? For us, who didn't want to accept he is dying. How courageous he was and fought to the end.

Someone who suffers mentally, because it is an unseen illness, and sees fit to end their pain may well do so. You just don't see the cancerous thoughts and emotions that fill their body. What a cowardly and selfish thing to do because what about the family and their loved ones?

For me personally, thoughts of family and friends didn't come into it.  Just my cat.  Because I have suffered on my own. And those who tried to understand got bored and never talked about my feelings.  So I started to keep them to myself. And my focus was to stop my pain, much as going to my doctor and asking for some painkillers for a broken bone. And when the meds that are meant to help with this pain stop working and the diagnosis that I have Treatment Resistant Depression kind of puts me in a mood where a lot of hope is lost, it is difficult for me to see where this cycle will end and whether the pain will become umbearable again. (March 2011 and again Sept 11). Luckily I (now) have a proper crisis plan and when I feel myself sliding I'm straight back to my GP on a daily basis and they fast track me a psych appointment. But that's not to say I feel safe around myself in the lows.

And when the day comes when I have to put my cat down because he is in pain, then I will do so with love and understanding that I am doing it for him and not keeping him alive unnecessarily just to satisfy my emotional needs.

Please, if you know of someone with mental  illness, even if you are bored shitless of listening to them whinge (because you'd much rather listen to happy stuff), please don't abandon them.  Go with them to the doctor to get them help.  Read books about how you can help.  Go to mental health charities and ask how you can help. Try to understand their pain, even if you think it is trivial, it is not to them. Everything is relative.

Happy Holiday

And it really was.  I just spent 3 weeks in the UK, on the Isles of Scilly and in Hastings and Bristol seeing all my lovely friends and my nephews and neice.
That aside, I had some good chats with friends about the proposed treatment plans and all were really supportive surprisingly.  All were of the opinion that any chance given to me to help recovery is a chance worth taking. Hmm. I spoke to my brother about it and I think he was a bit shocked if a little bemused as to what ECT actually entails.  But hopefully he understands that things have not been easy at all.  My mum came to visit me in Hastings and I had an in depth chat with her.  She is relieved that I am going to return to the UK and live back on the south coast where I have godparents nearby, my best mate (who I will be living with) and my best mate's parents who are like second family for me.  I think she was shocked but she took it well.  I felt releived to have spoken to her and she was really supportive and a bit emotional.  It's strange, I wouldn't say I am overly close with mum but she steps up to the plate in a crisis and easy to talk to.
First thing I did when I returned to Switzerland was book an appointment with my "GP", Dr A.  I thought I had a cold sore before I went to the UK but it was actually impetigo and after a course of penicillin based antibiotics which I am allergic to (old GP said try them and stop if I get a reaction - I had a slight reaction but thought it was best to discontinue in case it got worse.  I am definately allergic) and an unsuccessful dabble with cortisone cream I finally went to a walk in centre, queued up with the methadone addicts and got some antibiotic cream, which has really worked.
I digress. Dr A agreed to continue the cream and prescribed (non penicillin) antibiotics. Then, as he has been in Zimbabwe doing aid work since August/September we had a good natter (that's what I love about him, he totally overruns appointments with me although the Swissie in the waiting room probably hadn't got much else to do anyway.  He asked me how the appointment with my psychiatrist went and I said about the change in medication and the ECT discussion.  He asked if I was "shocked" (fnaah fnaah) about the suggestion and I said of course I was and that I was undecided and that it was difficult to consider it when I feel so much better at the moment.  Do I then wait until I am in the depths again?  He said Dr I and he considered that a lot of people in my situation have big highs and big lows and somewhere in the middle.  But that in my case I had deep lows and "kind of OK" which was my somewhere in the middle most of the time.  He mentioned mood disorder again but as I am still in denial as to what that might be, I didn't push that point further. Anyway, I explained that the break in the UK had helped rather than be admitted as an inpatient and that the Cipralex seemed to be working really well in combination with the other medications.
I see Dr A again tomorrow (so maybe he will have some pirated DVD's from Zimbabwe for me) and to check the impetigo which is clearing up nicely (although am pissed off I have got it as I haven't been near little germ filled fuckers since winter and apparently they are the culprits of the infection). I see Dr I (my lovely psychiatrist) on the 7th November.
Tonight I am feeling rather lonely.  Since all the socialising in the UK, which exhausted me, I was a bit naughty last night and had too much alcohol.  So I am attributing this to my low mood today and the fact that I was crying uncontrollably at the end of a film on Channel 5 earlier.  I even missed fire practice this week as I couldn't face being in a crowd of people and the effort of speaking Swiss, which I am still struggling to adjust to after my holiday (usually it comes fluently to me - time to put back on German TV).  I am contemplating the thought of a winter alone (although I am settled in NOT being in a relationship) but winter I must work to give me time to claim back my social insurance and pay off any remaining bills before the plan of returning to the UK in April 12.  And I am TERRIFIED of going back even though it is the right thing to do, and living in a large town.  I will certainly be saving up money to get me a place in Cornwall asap, much smaller environment.
If it hadn't been for my cat since returning, I think my mood would be through the floor right now.  Samkitten hasn't left my side since I returned and rarely goes out (although being a cat the ground is probably a little bit chilly on his paws). I love my cat. I need to find him a rural home in the UK with one of my friends or I will miss him so much.  He's got his winter coat now which is really useful for mopping up my snotty nose and streaming tears at the moment.