The Things We Gloss Over

I’m coming down from this high, once again I’m wading through treacle, as my GP so wonderfully puts it. Only this time it seems the treacle is sucking me down into its dark syrupy depths. I’m hoping that it’ll let me go and I can wash off the goo and get back to life-proper.

My GP changed wrote to the CMHT and asked for them to advise on medication. He didn’t ask for a referral, which is a shame as there are some things (mostly work-related) that I could have used some help on, but never mind. The psychiatrist (previously referred to, I think, as Dr Arseface) advised that olanzapine would be “appropriate”, so I have that now. This is a Good Thing – I was at my most stable (mood-wise, more on voices, etc. later) when I was on olanzapine, and only came off it as Dr Arseface sent the old GP a letter (I was copied in, gosh I’m so honoured to be included in correspondence about me!) simultaneously discharging me from CMHT care to primary care, and telling the GP that I should come off olanzapine over the course of a few months.

Of course I went batshit insane.

The beginning of this blog chronicles those adventures, that were pretty much repeated last summer but even worse, and seemed to be ramping up for this summer too, but hopefully olanzapine will keep things a bit more level.

Olanzapine has never completely got rid of the voices and it’s-not-paranoia-if-they’re-really-out-to-get-you (hereafter referred to as INPITROTGY). Other meds have been better – haloperidol was the best. No one wants me taking two antipsychotics so it’s a case of choosing what I can deal with least well and medicating that. Chances are that once the olanzapine gets going the voices and INPITROTGY will ease off to at least a manageable background level as before. I’m definitely not taking haloperidol ever again, since it made so horrendously, deeply sad.

And that is why I’m hoping the treacle lets me go – I cannot take antidepressants as they make me loopier than a roller coaster made of colourful American cereal. Mood stabilisers also don’t seem to be an option – my one and only OD was partly formed of depakote and so I can never ever take it again, just the thought makes me sick. Lithium scares me, seems to involve too much in the way of organisational powers (blood tests, don’t eat this, drink that…). Lamotrigine hasn’t been mentioned but I think I remember something about my local trust not prescribing it once upon a time, so that might be why.

I’m trying to pull myself out the treacle too, of course. I’m not passively accepting my treacle-doom (I may have taken this metaphor too far…). I’m keeping to my routines (as far as I can – so sleepy now), doing all the Things That Should Be Done. I’ve been over these before.

The hard thing is keeping that mask in place, glossing over all the “abnormal moods”, trying to keep my face mobile (apparently flat affect is an issue no matter the mood). The thing is that even when I am functionally well, my mood isn’t (alwaysusuallyoften?) affected by events that happen around me or too me. We had to have my cat put down; my gorgeous beautiful grey ball of fluff, and whilst I cried, a lot of those tears were crocodile. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel pain at his death, it wasn’t that I didn’t sympathise with my family’s sorrow. It’s hard to explain. I think half of the hardness is that I don’t want to admit it. I couldn’t not feel happy any more than a “normal person” could not feel sad. I felt all sorts of things in one go. I would love to have situationally appropriate moods, but my moods do what they want when triggered by … (see previous lists…). This is what we gloss over – I’m never “well”, I will never be “well”. “Well” to me means more to me than just functioning – going to work, looking after other people, cooking, cleaning. “Well” means feeling the right things at the right time: being able to grieve; celebrating getting engaged; being able to help friends out with problems, or being happy with them, without having to carefully arrange my face and words. I don’t mean that these moods are necessarily abnormally high or low, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Of course sometimes moods and events do line up, but that feels more like chance than design.

 

Okay, enough complaining. Here is a grumpy owl to make up.

The Grumpiest Owl

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