Realisations.

I might not be able to have kids.

The thought comes flying at me as I sit in my psychiatrists’ big, squishy chair. I’m nodding along with what he’s saying as a fresh faced medical student sits in the corner taking notes. It feels like too clinical a place to have such a dream shattering realisation.

I might not be able to have kids.

What do you even do with a thought like that…

Let’s rewind. Last time I wrote, I was feeling better. Sleep and diet and exercise and all that. Well, I still feel ok in terms of mood, but things have gone a bit… strange. I’ve been acting a bit child-like. Not in a mardy, throwing toys out of the pram kind of way; I’ve just been a bit ditzy and floofy. This was hard to explain to my psychiatrist and it doesn’t seem writing it down is much easier, so I’ll just try and explain. I’ve been laughing a lot over little things. I’ve been quite physically needy with my husband, always needing to hold his hand and have a cuddle. And I’ve been feeling a bit fragile, which means needing a lot of affirmation. I know all this doesn’t sound like a big deal, and I thought I’d just been having a silly week or something, but my psychiatrist thinks it’s the beginning of the early stages of recurring illness.

He kind of lectured me. He’s been a bit apathetic to me reducing the whole time. Apparently my case has been complex, and he was very quick to point out this is all my idea and he’s really concerned that I’ll get ill again. And I see his point. If I ain’t currently broke, why start messing with meds and reduction?

The reason is, I want to get pregnant. Not right now, but in five or six years I want to bear my own child. And I can’t do that on medication. See, I kinda planned it out. If I don’t reduce now, when I want to have kids it’s gonna be a two month reduction to nothing, a month for conception, and then a nine month gestation followed by another three to six months of breast feeding. I’ll need to be un-medicated for between 15 and 18 months (and that makes the bold assumption actually getting pregnant will be easy, and ignoring the likelihood of post-natal depression). 

If I’m honest, the whole thing is terrifying, and the only thing keeping me on reduction now is the wanting kids thing. But today I realised I might well not be able to do it. See, it’s a toss up. Heads, I do nothing until I want to have kids, then reduce, deal with pregnancy hormones and the after effects of reduction, and risk totally relapsing in the 18 months I’ll be off meds in a way that makes me unfit to even be a mother. Tails, I try reducing now, fail, and realise I’ll never be able to get pregnant.

The sad thing is, either way you flip that coin I lose.

I got pretty upset when I realised all this. I thought the initial problems with reduction were tailing off, and I was just starting to hope that I might be able to at least get off algomelatine. But honestly, it’s looking I probably won’t be able to. It seems like I’m going to be stuck here for some time.

I nearly cried on the train home. I went through quite a few emotions, actually. I started off really upset. Then I got sad, and thought about cheering myself up with food (that one didn’t work out though. Being on a strict diet is really helping at the moment.) Then I got angry, not at the universe or God, but at the staff in Tescos who stand round chatting rather than helping customers. I quickly realised that was pathetic and stopped, but then when I got home I just felt numb. I went out onto the balcony with no layers on and stood in the cold, wanting to cry. Wanting tears that wouldn’t come. Feeling alone.

See, you’re probably thinking, she doesn’t even want kids yet. Why is this such a big deal? You’re 23, go out, live your life and don’t worry about this stuff right now. And I see that, I really do, but there have been a few things in my life that I’ve always assumed. One is that God will always be there for me. Another is that I would get married, which has happened, and another is that I’d have kids. So this whole thing isn’t just something that may or may not happen one day, it’s something I’ve wanted and loved for a long time, and thinking about how it may not all be alright is pretty devastating.

That’s all for now. More soon.

Week 2.5

Hey, how’s it going? 🙂

So things here have been a bit mixed since I last wrote. My sleep got progressively worse weeks 1-2; I found it hard to settle, to fall asleep at all, and my husband said I kept talking in my sleep and thrashing round which is pretty odd for me so I guess it’s linked to all the chemical changes. I’ve also been having some really violent, horrible dreams. That’s a little bit scary because in the past I’ve really struggled with pretty dark hallucinations and dreams, and it feels like experiencing the dreams again might lead to the hallucinations returning. And I really can’t deal with those again. The last few nights have felt a bit calmer, but I’m starting to worry because if reducing the relatively mild algomelatine is increasing the violence of my subconscious, imagine what reducing the much stronger mirtazapine will be like…

But I can’t think like that.

On the whole, energy has been ok, aside from what you’d expect after disrupted sleep. Coincidentally, I’ve been using a weight loss app, and that’s actually been really helpful because it’s kept me disciplined in exercising and going for walks when I don’t really feel like it. It’s also kept me from eating when my mood is low, so it’s been unexpectedly useful in boosting my energy.

Mood has been noticeably lower. I’ve felt it and my husband has noticed too. I got really bad on Saturday, when something really small triggered me into the worst episode I’ve had in a year or so. I came out of it after about 4 hours so it wasn’t excessively long, but it did scare me quite a lot. I’d forgotten what it was like to be that bad.

So when I went to see my psychiatrist on Monday, he had some concerns. He didn’t want my mood descending at all, so we’ve decided to try being on reduced algomelatine (25mg) and full mirtazapine (45mg) for another two weeks and then re-assessing. It’s not guaranteed I’m going to complete the reduction process, it seems. I’m just praying not to lose my mind again.

I wanted to talk briefly about why this blog is called Christian With Hope. It’s mainly because, slightly obviously, I’m a Christian. For anyone who’s instantly turned off by that, let me explain. Organised religion has its pros and its cons. The thing that drives me is relationship with God, who I believe loves me as I am. I can’t be a perfect person, I make mistakes, but because He loves me Jesus, as a person both fully God and fully human, died on a cross to right the wrongs I have made and the wrongs I will make.

I came close to my first suicide attempt- inches in fact- a year after I became a Christian, when I was 12 years old. It still feels strange to talk about even now, because I can’t explain what happened that night. I was in the bath (which I hear is a surprisingly common place to commit suicide) and I guess the unbearable weight of being, of my fledgling depression, of the bullying and self doubt I was going through, all got too much. I had a razor. I was going to do it. I was on the edge of my wrist. And… something held me back. I threw the razor across the room in a flash of realisation and I cried. I don’t know what you want to call that force that held me back; some might say the universe, or the rational part of my brain that was doing the whole survival thing. For me, I’d say it was God.

See, being a Christian is actually pretty hard, particularly when you have a mental health problem. I’ve struggled with joy, with healing, with simply being able to sing a song saying God you took my chains from me when I just don’t feel that way. I can’t lie, to God or to anyone else, about having a joy I don’t always feel, about believing that God can heal people when I haven’t been, about the chains I still often feel I wear. But I have to remember this isn’t the end game. When I reach heaven, I will finally know joy. I will finally know healing. And I will finally have no chains to bear. Maybe, just maybe, I will get to know some of those things on this earth; but I have hope that either here or in heaven, I will know these things. And that’s why I’m a Christian with Hope.

Thanks for reading. More soon.

We’re coming down, to the ground, there’s no better place to be…

So it’s been a while! Sorry about that. Things have been busy, but, I’ve now finished university for forever, and as the job hunt hasn’t gone well I’ve been blessed with the spare time to try reducing my medication. Things have been so busy, in fact, that I didn’t have time to get scared about reducing. I was expecting to get worried but then, I looked at the calendar and the appointment was suddenly the next day and that was that. No going back.

On Monday my husband and I headed up to the hospital to talk to my psychiatrist about reducing. He’d never been to the mental hospital before, and I was nervous about taking him as sometimes it can be a difficult place; but thankfully it was a quiet day and we got in without incident.

My psychiatrist seemed less sure that reducing was a good idea when the appointment started, because my clinical depression was so hard to treat that I went through about 5 or 6 types of drugs before settling on 45mg of Mirtazapine supplemented by 50mg of Algomelatine (the Algomelatine is a weaker drug, so even though the dose is higher, it is supplementary). It means my case is pretty severe. But as we talked through why I want to reduce (because I don’t have a regular job and therefore have some non-pressured time, and mainly because one day I want to be pregnant which you can’t be on antidepressants) he seemed more willing to give it a go. So, in case you’re reading this and you’re in a similar position, here are some answers to questions I had.

• You come off antidepressants/SSRIs slowly. The perfect-world scale I’m working on is two weeks of 25mg Algomelatine/45mg Mirtazapine, then hopefully move to no Algomelatine/45mg Mirtazapine for two or three weeks, then reduce the Mirtazapine in 15mg steps until you’re done. The whole thing takes about eight to ten weeks.
• Side effects aren’t a big thing on antidepressants. SSRIs have them though but, theoretically, those on antidepressants won’t experience any.
• All those things you’ve done throughout illness- exercise, talking to friends, getting fresh air, having a routine- are even more important when you’re reducing. Their impact on your endomorphins isn’t astronomical but they will help you.
• Family members- keep an eye on the person who is reducing. Check their mood is ok (because when you start to sink you don’t always notice), and be there when they need you (which they will!)

All seemed reassuring, so on Monday night, for the first time in two and a half years, I just didn’t take one of my pills. Now I’m on day two of reduction. So far, I don’t feel great. Monday night I was restless and didn’t get good sleep. Tuesday day I had a long jog in the morning which made me feel pumped, but then a difficult day of work (I said I’m unemployed didn’t I? Job hunting and competition work count as work for a musician, which is what I did yesterday) left me shattered, headachey and with low mood by the late afternoon. Evening felt better. Tuesday night I slept worse again, really tossing and turning and not getting solid sleep (worse still, I’m sure it’s affecting my husband’s sleep, which is really unideal). Today I’ve felt ok but again tired and I can feel my mood slipping even now…

So, to surmise, who knows whether this is side effects, or just my body adjusting, or what. I’m not even sure at this point if I’ll manage coming off; after all, if my mood is noticeably lower after two days, I’m nervous about how I’ll feel after a week. There’s no pressure if I can’t (we’re not thinking of having kids for 5 or 6 years), but I do wonder that if I can’t do it now, will I ever be able to? Will my body ever become stable enough not to depend on a drug cocktail every day? Where does that leave me? I do know I will never, ever allow myself to get as ill as before. If stopping taking the drugs means my self harm addiction comes back, or that I re-live violent hallucinations, or it just makes me disintegrate again, then I will get straight back to taking them.

More in a couple of days, when things have hopefully stabilised… This is feeling like it’ll be a long two weeks.

-3 Months

This blog is anonymous because I’m scared.

I’m a student, and I’ve had clinical depression for the last ten years. For the last 3 I’ve been on different medications to control my illness. Some of those pills have worked better than others, but for the last 18 months I’ve found the right dose, my life has finally settled and I feel happy. Not all the time, but nearly all of the time.

But the fear doesn’t go. The fear about what people will say if they find out. The fear of hurting those close to you by your selfish thoughts and actions. And the fear of being without meds, because you know what happens when you don’t take them.

Today I’m especially scared. I’m about to go to the hospital to talk to the psychiatrist about coming off medication in September. I guess that’s why I made this blog- to talk about the worries of coming off meds, how reducing and stopping goes me, and to encourage anyone else who finds themselves coming off with what I’ve learnt.

So. Here it goes…