creature comfort

I was perusing the blog of artist Kim Sears, and she wrote something which I liked:

Disclaimer: I am one of those  people. The type that take far too many photos of their animals and expect others to oooh and aaah with adequate enthusiam.

I liked it because I am one of those people too. I can’t seem to help myself, I just find everything my pup does so endearing, entertaining, and smile-provoking that I have to capture it...and then share it, be that excitedly showing Ben my daily shoots when he gets home from work, or uploading  them on Instagram, where I can even put a filter on them (oh happy day!). And I know that other people are going, “Ok Ok. You love your dog, we get it. We have seen your dog and he looks the same this week as he did last week. Do we really need to see another photo?”

Maybe I am besotted with him because I have dreamed of owning a dog ever since I was a little girl, and now I can’t quite believe that it’s happened? Maybe it’s because he actually does all those adorable dog things that my soft toys, and obliging younger sisters, and virtual pet never quite pulled off. Or is it that he is so delightfully unaffected by the stresses of this world that I catch a bit of his unconcerned happiness?

I’m his favourite person in the whole world (yes, he even follows me to the toilet) despite being a bit of a social failure. He doesn’t know that there is anything the matter with me, and if he knew he wouldn’t care, so long as he could snuggle in my arms. He makes me feel as though sleeping during the day is the most normal, delicious thing to do, as he shamelessly does the same for hours on end. I love that I can be enough for him, that I am capable of satisfying all* his needs. (It seriously helps that his dinner comes out of a tin.) I feel with Wolfgang that I am normal, valued, capable, and understood. Seldom do I come across this feeling with people, however kind they are, which is why I often prefer his uncomplicated, affectionate company. He doesn’t tell me to pick myself up, or go and see this particular doctor, or expect me to get better with no backwards patches...he just hops into my lap, and silently, unconsciously, comforts me. That's why I love him the way I do.

Wolfgang's puppyhood

Sick & swollen from a new medication, but not alone.

Ps. He also has the cute factor and being a very aesthetic person, this pleases me no end. People frequently stop me in the street to comment on how adorable he is. Toddlers point, ladies smile, men greet him. It’s like walking around with a celebrity.

*wincey exception: we had his manly parts removed, but it would seem he still would like a girlfriend for humpy-times.

pick your devil

When I started taking anti depressants in January to aid my cognitive behavioural therapy, I knew there would be side effects. The effects I was unfortunate enough to receive were nightmares and night sweats. But oh, the sweet, sweet relief of having my anxiety dampened, my spirits lifted...I was prepared to put up with the night-time horrors because I didn’t want to farewell my newly found day- time bliss. My shrink told me to let him know when I got sick of the side effects and I could change medication. Seven months later I was exasperated. I just wanted to go to bed without getting killed or raped, to wake up dry, to sleep like I used to. 

But instead of suggesting a change, he suggested I try stopping altogether to see if I am now able to cope without it; to see whether my anxiety can be managed medicine free. After all, I was on a small dose. All the counselling may mean that I am in a position to deal with myself.

I was told that I shouldn’t feel too much, maybe a headache...but I have grown to know my body intimately these past few years and I doubted these words would be true for me. My body takes things abnormally hard. I am the person who has an adverse reaction when none is expected. I can’t handle perfume, I can’t tolerate drugs for insomnia, I can’t drink half a glass of alcohol without becoming weak, and I can’t eat a biscuit without feeling some fast and unpleasant physical side effect. I am the girl who nearly ends up in hospital from the drug that the hospital gave me.

It has been ghastly. 

It’s frightening to realise how acutely my body is missing this drug, how addicted I have become to it. Many times in the last few days I have thought about people who are dependent on nicotine, and alcohol, and drugs...and I know why they find it so hard to end their complicated relationship with these substances. Because they can barely survive without it. What support they need.

I’ve been experiencing brain zaps – nigh impossible to describe, it’s this horrid sensation of my brain falling away and losing all consciousness for a few seconds. This happens every time I move my head. It’s sickening. Last night I was more drenched when I woke up at 3 am than ever before, and again at 7am. I lie down and sleep for hours, and wake confused, disorientated, and feverish. It’s a far madder feeling than the illness which had me go on these drugs...the first day I was so irritable I thought I had lost my whole character. I asked Ben if he would buy me a punching bag, but he didn’t think it was practical. 

These medications seem like such a blessing – oh, but are they are curse? What are they doing to me? If it’s possible to survive without them, surely that is better. Pick your devil – the torment of mental illness, or the torment of mental illness medication.

Now I wait, and pray that in a few weeks (please no longer) once the withdrawal symptoms have left I will be in a position to manage my anxiety, medicine free. 

grief

picture source

 

i lie on the couch for the hundredth day

the flat is so silent, so still, so alone.

my heart feels this grief it cannot say...

i wish for a voice and i wait by my phone.

how many years will this illness linger on?

i hoped it’d be two, but it’s already three,

i wonder if sobbing would make it be gone.

i want to feel well, live a life pain free.

i long to study, to walk out that door...

and not return home till 6 pm.

 then flop on the couch, and not be sore,

and spend the evening with energy spare.

i have a good week, and i dare to hope,

then a rough patch which knocks back me down.

sometimes i feel i cannot cope -

in this storm, in this black, i might drown.

i used to be strong – to study, to work

but now i can barely remember those days...

my whole world has changed, greyness lurks,

and i feel this sorrow as my body decays.

why was it me? and will i get better?

and how do i keep plodding along?

i wish You would tell me, write me a letter.

i struggle to smile, to laugh, sing a song.

but there is a glimmer amid the pain...

that helps me strive to dance in this rain.

this life is a moment compared to the next.

This is my sickness song. It's worth the listen.

praise you in this storm 

by Casting Crowns

Relapse?

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When should I let go of something I’d set my heart on? When is it too costly to be worth the sacrifice? What will I do with my talents with so little energy? What does tomorrow look like?

My husband is in his final year of his degree. We often talk about next year when he will be an intern in a hospital, and the following year when he will be a fully qualified Radiographer. I get clucky  thinking about his graduation and how proud I will be of him in his black gown....we marvel at how it will feel to have an income at last...how we’ll save for a car, and a home loan, and a holiday...

 We have plans and dreams in the bucket loads. Mainly because we assume that he will be alive and capable of all those things. We used to have the same kinds of plans for my life...I was going to finish my Bachelor of Music, do my Honours, possibly go overseas and then work for several years before trying to have a baby or two.

But when we make plans, we really don’t know for sure if they will come to be. The future is so unknown, so utterly out of our hands.

I honestly don’t know what I will be doing in 6 months time. In the past few months, I made huge progress with my health and it looked right for me to go back to university and re-sit my 1^st Year flute recital. I was keen to get out of the house after a year of being homebound, keen to have flute lessons and square away the first year of my degree. Infact, I am keen! My whole heart yearns to do this but I don’t know if my body is feeling the same. I wish it could talk to me.

*Croaky voice, “ Deee-ee, I’m not ready. It’s too much...”

 I’m only two weeks into this experiment, but so far I’m rather befuddled. I hope my next post will be announcing that I am feeling great and loving being back, because right now I feel that my body has regressed – maybe I’m having a relapse?

Since returning, I have been feeling really unwell. I’ve had migraines every evening, afternoon sleeps, insomnia, nausea, weakness...a whole list of yuckies. To be perfectly honest, I’m ok with feeling like that – if I can stay home on the couch with a blankie and a cup of tea. It’s hard, but it’s tolerable. What I don’t like is lying in bed knowing that ideally I would be at class, or practicing. That’s stressful.

It could be the antidepressants I recently went on, but now it feels like POTS/CFS. And it could be that my recent virus has given my body a bit of a shake. But I don’t know, and only time will tell me. If it turns out that going back to uni has retriggered my illness, maybe I won’t try to finish the remaining two years of my degree. I never thought I’d write that. I thought I would just get better, 100% better, and carry on where I left off, with a few lessons in patience and hardship under my belt. But lately I’ve been thinking that maybe this journey will be longer, with more peaks and troughs than I expected.

It’s a quality of life issue. I could potentially limp through my degree at a painstakingly slow pace, and hobble up to claim my certificate five years later....before crawling back into bed for the next few. But I don’t think I want that. I think I’d rather go, “Alright, things haven’t panned out according to my dreams and plans. I can accept that, and I’m going to pursue a life I can cope with.”

And then I wonder, what could I do with my limited energy? Could I make cards and sell them at markets? Could I write? Could I invest at home more? Could I still have flute lessons and practice?

Could I learn contentment?

"It is a big mistake to boast about what you will do tomorrow because there is really no way of knowing for sure what will happen."

Proverbs 27 : 1