Angry Days

I am angry. Very irritable and angry. Because?
Actually, I have no reason to be angry, I just am.  I can only attribute it to fucking up my meds this week (didn't get myself organised to get to the Chemist for a repeat prescription) and as a result have had several sleepless nights (Does anyone else find Zolpidem sends you hyper, or is it just me?) and have been reading into situations which simply don't exist culminating in a tirade of rage on FB - thank's to the lovely M who phoned me today and suggested I deleted those posts - love a gal who tells me how it is.
I hate it when I am like this.  I feel so detached from everything and every one around me.  I try to occupy myself so that I am distracted, but when I am on my own at home, surfing the net, these thoughts are hanging in the background making me worse and worse.  I am aware that is happening but I don't seem able to stop it and then I wind myself into a frenzy. Meh. I think it's time for a new Crisis Plan.
I tried to make an appointment to register at a surgery for when I return to the UK (5th May!!!).  I decided to go back to my old surgery from many years ago and thought that if I pre-booked an appointment for my return then I wouldn't need to panic about my meds running out (I have enough left for this month), plus can get back into the system asap.  So the conversation went something like this (I had to telephone as their email address does not work):

Me: "Yes Hello I am just phoning from Switzerland to..." 

Doctors receptionist "Can I put you on hold sorry".....wait......"Yes hello" 

Me: I wondered if I could arrange an appointment to register as.... 

"Yes, we are taking on new patients, just come into the surgery with the relevant paperwork, goodbye". 

I had spent 20 minutes practising what to say and then another 5 building up the courage to phone and explain my situation.  so of course, being the pathetic wimp who is currently totally overwhelmed by everything involved in moving back to the UK, I spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in bed sobbing my heart out with anxiety.  Thank god for Seroquel and my cat. Plus my friend who works for the NHS and will certainly be in touch with said surgery (she used to work for the PCT making checks on doctor's surgeries so I wouldn't want to be said Doctor's receptionist when she calls.

It's not so much making the appointment, it's the timescale.  I return to the UK 5th May.  It's Bank Holiday weekend apparently so there is no chance I will get an appointment for that week if I don't pre book.  First, I have to have an appointment with the Practice Nurse to register me.  Then they need to process me.  Then I need to know which doctor I am with so that I can get my Swiss Psychiatrist to send a report, plus get a repeat prescription because I will need meds asap. And I will need at least half an hour with new GP. This could take weeks. (Months?). I can't afford to be without mental health support for this length of time, particularly after making yet another life changing choice - these tend to be trigger points for me.  Of course, I know if I am a danger to myself then I can get my friend to take me to A&E but I do tend to rather think of myself (when I am in crisis) that I am a waste of space, taking up resources needed for sicker people, don't want to be a burden etc. etc. (The usual crap we mentalists tell ourselves).

Anyhoo, I have been in hiding most of the day after my FB comments which basically had told people living here to "Fuck Off" and have just enjoyed a night in of NCIS and CSI repeats.  Lovely. 

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.