In my last post I talked and Juliette and what a caring, fun, creative, loving, colourful person she was, when she died I said I’d get a bee tattoo not a worker bee I wasn’t looking to copy her but a bumble bee to remind me of her and our friendship which started from matching underwear, a reminder of the memes and pictures of bees with fuzzy butts we used share. On Monday I got my tattoo of my own fuzzy butt bumble bee with a purple watercolour background to match Juliette’s hair. I know she’d approve of this
A bumble bee tattoo on my wrist with a purple watercolour style background
This post is about suicide though there is no mention of methods.
A bee on pink flowers at the station on the day of Julietteās funeral
Iāve been wanting to write this for 6 months but it was too hard. A potentially creepy comment about owning the same underwear on a drunken toilet selfie did not get my blocked but instead was the start of our friendship. We met through an internet mental health ācommunityā and there were many eye rolls about such places and some of the people in them (though we were aware that we were far from perfect ourselves).
I soon found that Juliette had a wicked sense of humour, she was attractive and creative and had various different hair colours in the time I knew her. She loved animals and owned four gorgeous rats, she had an accidental memorial leg of tattoos for people in life who’d died. Despite her intolerance to bullshit (and lactose) she was loyal and supportive to those she cared about. Hummus memes were frequently shared and still pop up on my Facebook notifications, some of the jokes we shared were truly terrible.
Living in Manchester she got a worker bee tattoo with ādonāt look back in angerā going around it after the Manchester bombing and bees became her āthingā online. A gif of a cat dressed up at a bee (creatively dubbed beecat) falling slowly off a sofa became a of conveying frustration/ crap day/ crap mental health and often summed up how we felt, her mandala cat tattoo was also dubbed beecat.
We had a group chat with three of us in it which was 90% complaining about life, mental health and the internet and the rest was probably random memes and beecat gifs.
I knew Juliette had attempted suicide previously but part of you doesnāt want to accept that it could happen and when it did I didnāt want it to be real. It felt like someone had punched me in the chest; a feeling thatās come and gone for the last 6 months, I cried for hours and have cried for many more since.
Her funeral especially broke me, when many of the person who cared about her had mental health issues and were scattered around not only the country but also the world only a few of us were able to go but a request for people to change their profile pictures to bees spread and on the day of her funeral my social media was full of different types of bees. Iāve never been to a funeral full of people wearing cat ears before but as soon as we arrived we knew it was the right place.
People talk about grief and stages as if itās linear and as if it doesnāt come out of nowhere and punch you in the stomach, itās not that simple or straightforward. Oasis makes me cry, pictures of furry bumblebee butts hanging out of flowers make me smile and part of me still expects her to be online, sometimes I’ll make a really inappropriate joke and I know she’d have laughed and we’d both joke that we were the worst. I thought the 6 month anniversary of her death yesterday would be hard but instead I was caught out on Friday crying for several hours (the ugly snotty puffy face version).
Tomorrow Iām going for a consultation for a bee tattoo so Iāll always have a reminder of our friendship.
I miss you
Beecat loves you x
Helplines arenāt a replacement for proper mental health care but if youāre in distress and need someone to talk to you can contact the Samaritans or if youāre under 35 Papyrus. Text support is available from Shout.
If youāve been bereaved by suicide SOBS can give you support and advice
A picture of me dressed in green and orange dinosaur onesie alongside a picture of a ceramic dinosaur painted to match
Iāve been trying to come up with something to write about as a sort of comeback blog post but my brain isnāt cooperating, nothing I write seems good enough even compared to my normal feelings of nothing I do being good enough. Itās difficult to write about things honestly partly because of the fact that most people who read this know me in real life and ranting about inaccessible transport is easier than being honest about how I feel. So how do I feel? I feel everything and nothing, Iām numb and disconnected and Iām coming home from work and lying on my bed crying, I donāt care about anything except I do I just canāt feel it right now, my heart feels heavy and time feels slowed down, there have been a couple of days when Iāve got in to work recently (and that in itself is a struggle) where Iāve honestly thought I dont know how Iām going to get through the next 8 hours.
Mostly Iām tired, not just physically because Iām also having trouble sleeping but tired of the endless cycles of depression. For me depression comes in cycles, unipolar bipolar without the high. I guess people whoās depression is more constant may think Iām lucky because I do have periods of not being depressed but this is my blog and Iāll cry if I want to (and even if I donāt) and Iām tired of this never really going away of always waiting for it to return.
I had my unusual Birthday existential crisis probably not helped by seeing a family member I hadnāt seen in a couple of years and stirring up fun memories from my upbringing but as ever another year brings more of the feelings of not enough, not doing enough, not achieving enough, not being enough and Iām giving out advice to people who for some reason look up to me and think I have my life together when Iām getting into work in the morning and wondering how Iām going to get through the next 8 hours. Iām a fraud.
This isnāt much of a comeback post but itās why I havenāt written anything in so long.
Iām clearly no stranger to sharing my life both online and offline, if I was this blog wouldnāt exist and you wouldnāt be reading this now but offline Iām starting to get tired of sharing my story and talking to people about my history and mental health. Iāve spoken to so many people in different settings from pop up cafes to fundraisers, funding bids for work and over 1000 young people through volunteering on the youth service I now run and although logically I know itās not true it does feel as though there must be a shortage of people who havenāt heard my story by now.
Today Iām running training with my new volunteers on writing their personal story and although no one is forcing me to I donāt feel like I can avoid telling it again it doesnāt seem fair to ask them to share theirs and me not share mine, Iāve been thinking about it for a couple of weeks and Im still not entirely sure why Iām so against telling it now I think itās partly that Iām tired of hearing it and then the fear of being judged and the shame of not really having achieved much in my life. I really do enjoy my job and itās not that I think it doesnāt count but Iām in my 30ās and just getting started in career where most of the people around me are younger than me and more qualified. I donāt feel like an inspiration or someone to look up to, hearing other peopleās educational backgrounds and qualifications reminds me of what I donāt have and what Iām not clever enough to ever achieve, maybe this is internalised to an extent but I also know the reality of my experiences in education.
When youāre known for one thing or people see you a certain way it can be hard to break that view no matter how much you change or try to move on youāll still be seen the same way, Iāve talked about my past so many times as a volunteer and although not in great detail thereās a high chance that Iāll be meeting people in my new role that have heard my story, I donāt hide having mental health problems and itās not like I even could if I wanted to Iāve made sure of that itās something Iāll never be able to fully hide but even though itās my own fault I wish I had a choice.
A brightly coloured coaster saying punch today in the face
Iām struggling. As a mental health blogger youād think that would be easier to say than it is, itās probably a combination of reducing my Quetiapine, a new job and being utterly exhausted but either way Iām not feeling great. I admitted I was struggling at work yesterday and told my manager that I spent last Friday crying at my desk because I felt so isolated being alone all day, i probably work in the most understanding organisation for someone with mental health problems and despite a fuckton of therapy I still find it hard to admit that and ask for help.
I donāt feel that Iām hard on myself I just think I should be able to manage though of course my brain is now telling me this was all a mistake and that I knew Iād fuck everything up it was inevitable that I wouldnāt be able to cope blah blah blah. Itās one thing when these thoughts are conscious because then I have some control over it but this is like a running commentary in the back of my mind itās not me deliberately putting myself down but it wonāt stop and I donāt know what to do to shut it up. Iām still working out boundaries and what is the right amount to share with people, I feel like I overshared yesterday to someone who isnāt my manage who doesnāt need to deal with my mental breakdowns and now I simultaneously want to crawl into a hole and die and also apologise repeatedly (not sure if this is a mental health issue or just being English).
I do have targets to meet I do have things I need to do and achieve but Iām not under pressure these are things I have a year to do and everyone keeps reminding me itās only been three weeks so itās not that. I have a psychiatrist appointment in just over a week and Iām hoping things have levelled out a bit by then, if Iād known it would take several years to come off this medication I might have thought twice about taking it though not everyone has such difficulty with medication adjustments so how would I even know this would be so hard.
Attachment issues are naturally coming out to play because I feel low and I want to cry constantly (which is actually really unlike me) so once again having thought I was feeling ok about someone I suddenly miss them again.
This was disjointed rambling but I wanted to actually start and finish a blog in one go rather then going back and making sure it was post worthy because my head is disjointed rambling right now and I need somewhere to dump it all, I guess one positive is I have no desire to self harm and I’m still over 5 months free.
Tonight* my brain is spiralling down into doom and failure convincing me that Iām a fraud just waiting to be caught out and that Iāve someone convinced people into believing Iām something Iām not, that people will soon realise this and see right through me and that giving me a job, responsibility and letting me run a service is a mistake. Iāve had the talk about imposter syndrome with someone before, someone I respect who to most people would never appear to feel this way I even bought myself a print of the picture used in this blog to try and convince myself that actually Iām not the imposter I think I am.
The feelings of responsibility and expectation are once again terrifying me, for a long time Iāve believed that if I never try I canāt fail and I canāt screw things up but Iām restless and wasnāt feeling stretched anymore by the things Iāve been doing. Iāve spent a large amount of this evening crying as my thoughts continue to spiral and snowball collecting more and more until it becomes and avalanche (sorry for the naff metaphor) anxiety has been creeping in recently and Iām trying to tell myself that itās normal to feel some anxiety about a new job.
It doesnāt really matter what people say because my brain wonāt listen, I know Iām not the only one that feels this way and I also know that I did well in my interview but facts and emotions donāt mix and the fear is strong. I wanted this job so much and I still do but the loss of security and increased responsibility and the worry of everything going wrong is very much on my mind (and in my dreams).
Today I have my induction with two other new members of staff and Iām hoping that Iāll just be treated like any other member of staff and not have to hear everyone say I know everything and that Iāve been here forever because this is still new to me and thereās a lot Iām going to have to learn.
One day I’m going to be sued for my constant use of song lyrics
2015 Georgiesaurus speaking about being a Youth Wellbeing volunteer
Recently things have been relatively OK I’m not saying it’s all wonderful but mentally I’ve been reasonably stable; I’ve had my first medication increase of Lamotragine and it’s hard to know whether it’s helping or not as this is probably the first time I’ve not been in crisis or extremely depressed when changing or adjusting medication, to add to this today I got a letter from the mental health team offering me an appointment in March with the recovery and support team presumably following on from the referral the psychiatrist I saw in December made. Yesterday I saw a friend I haven’t seen in a while and was telling her that I’d stopped going to the group I’d been attending due to it being a toxic and unsupportive environment that made me feel worse not better so with the recent mental stability getting the letter about the mental health appointment has just added another decision the think about, if Iām offered more treatment will it make things worse? Do I want it? Is it suitable or would I be better off considering something else Iāve been looking into?.
Life doesn’t come with a manual, I’m still trying to find out who I can complain to but for now I have to try and work things out myself and try and decide what the right thing to do in certain circumstances or what decisions to make when opportunities come along. One of the problems is that opportunities donāt always come along at the right time and thatās without the complication of not knowing when the right time is. For 7 months Iāve been working and earning on top of my benefits (all legit please donāt report me for benefit fraud) and itās been the best, most intense, stressful, exhausting and rewarding 7 months, it certainly hasnāt all be smooth sailing with days where I was going solo bobbing up and down desperately trying to stay afloat and times when I was drowning and having 4:30 Friday meltdowns which involved texting my manager and almost quitting.
But 7 months in the grand scheme of things isnāt that long and in a perfect world Iād have more time to prepare and put myself in the best position to take on more not just skills wise but mentally too and feel as stable and secure as I can and ready to take the next step in moving off benefits another struggle here is my chronic illness I cannot manage full time and even if I was in perfect mental health I couldnāt physically cope on full time hours. I feel that so much of my self worth recently has been tied up in this job Iām told a lot how good it is that Iām working and being payed but as much as Iām enjoying having more money itās more the feeling of being an equal on the same level as staff and things that come with it such as socials or attending the staff away day.
2017 Georgiesaurus running a Youth information stand for Time to Talk Day
Sometimes I think I do too good a job at treating my mental health as something separate that Iām almost lulled into a false sense of security that comes with stability when realistically I still have to fight the urge to tell my manager everything Iāve done each day if heās not in, let him know Iāve uploaded it onto the shared drive and where so he knows Iāve been working, of course I know that not only does he trust me to work alone but he doesnāt want to know every email Iāve sent or every webpage Iāve read for the workshop Iām writing. Iāve had a few relationship anxieties too despite MBT helping me with this itās hard to explain to someone without mental health issues that people Iāve been close to or very attached to werenāt just people I worked with and that although they have moved on itās still at times a struggle for me.
Although Iām handling it better Iām still not a fan of change and if anyone knows where I can hand in my resignation of adulthood please let me know until then Iāll be building a pillow fort.
A purple banner saying you can talk about mental health anywhere even here
*mentions medications, doses and side effects and self harm
Letās talk about medication; the world and his wife and their depressed friend seem to have an option on the subject, the internet is full of memes about going for a walk in a forest and you know the Daily Mail will have something to say on the matter but the reality isnāt just popping a pill and everything is better itās much more boring, frustrating and often unpleasant. Iāve been on and off medication almost half my life and Iāve been on some form of medication consistently for around 10 years. Iāve tried almost all the common antidepressants – citalopram, venlafaxine (made me throw up so much), sertraline (no effect but made me sick when I took myself off it), citalopram again (worked well then stopped working), seroxat – the scary one from panorama (worked well then stopped working, made me very mental coming off it), duloxetine (still on this the most effective and long lasting though Iām now on the maximum dose) Iāve also been on and am still on an antipsychotic quetiapine.
Enter a captioThe top picture shows a forest with the words this is an anti depressant. The bottom picture shows a green and yellow prozac tablet with the words this is shit.
I loved quetiapine it helped me sleep, it lowered my anxiety and evened out those wonderful BPD mood swings it was great until I decided maybe I didnāt need it anymore that I was tired of being tired, I wasnāt in love with it anymore but it didnāt want to let me go. When I first reduced my dose the withdrawal was horrendous I remember the nausea that made me late for college because moving made me want to throw up, I lay on my sofa and cried for a day before breaking 6 months self harm free and phoning my care coordinator begging for diazepam instead they gave me promethazine this took me to three types of medication.
After this I increased the dose twice and things were ok until I tried to leave quetiapine again and it let anxiety and depression came back in, at this point I was just starting my new job and was also suicidal from the medication withdrawal, this then led to an increase of my antidepressant duloxetine now up to the maximum dose, the anxiety was unbearable so propanolol a beta blocker was added; 3 little pink pills a day.
A referral back to the mental health service and a medication review with a psychiatrist iād met through my work with commissioning groups and we decided to try lamotragine an anti epileptic but not until Iād had a blood test to check my liver and kidney function oh and watch out for a rash because this can suppress your white blood cells.
My view on medication is that Iām neither for or against it, for some itās a life saver and others itās poison that dulls the emotions and sedates people into compliance but I do think people need to be more aware of what theyāre taking and how it could affect them. Medication and the side effects are one of the reasons people with enduring mental health problems die on average 20 years earlier than the general population many of the health initiatives around weight loss and stopping smoking arenāt helpful to people whoās mediation has ground their metabolism to a halt or has increased the effects of nicotine on the brain and thatās not even looking at the social side of eating or smoking amongst people with mental health problems.
The top picture shows a forest with the words this is an anti depressant, the word antidepressant is crossed out and underneith it says an amazing way to spend a Saturday. The bottom picture shows a variety of medication with the words this is shit, the word shit is crossed out and underneith it says prescribed medication that literally saves livesĀ Ā
Medication has and continues to help me in combination with the therapy Iāve had it helps me do my job which in turn benefits my mental health, had I known more about the side effects before I was put on an antipsychotic maybe Iād have decided not to go on it but even if Iād made the same choice at least Iād have had all the information needed to make an informed decision.
Thereās still a lot of stigma around being on medication and those memes about taking a walk in a forest really donāt help, thereās no shame in being on medication so please take your meds.
A picture of a shark rucksack looking anxious wih the caption “my face when people ask what happened to my arms”
*For the purpose of this post i’ll be using the word disabled to mean people with a physical impairment, I do consider mental health problems to be a disability but for clarity i’ll refer to mental health seperatly.
So my brain whirred into action last night thanks to an Instagram post by the amazing feeding of the fox. Thereās a type of self harm thatās rarely mentioned; self neglect comes up in the context of depression but even Iāve never seen a discussion around the connection between disability or chronic illness and self harm or disabled people deliberately not taking care physical needs as a way of self harming. There are times when I say yes when I should say no, times when I will push myself because I donāt deserve to rest, times when I donāt take painkillers because itās an indirect way of inflicting pain on myself, going to places that arenāt accessible or doing things when Iām not well enough.
Any disabled person will also tell you there is a big divide in the treatment of physical and mental health problems the two rarely mix and the mental health services are not always good at recognising the impact that physical disability or chronic illness can have on mental health or that the things that could benefit you mentally arenāt always possible physically (like going for a walk or having a bath), being told I should do more exercise after Iāve explained that I have chronic pain and chronic fatigue can result in me feeling lazy and making myself do things that result in pain or injury and an increase in fatigue and related symptoms. This is where the lack of understanding or knowledge of the connections between mental health and physical impairments is such a problem because for me it can be an increase in symptoms but for others it can be much worse.
Then thereās the other side the health services who treat your body as if your mind isnāt a part of it, although Iāve always been disabled to some extent in the last couple of years my mobility has got worse and Iāve been using mobility aids and dealing with more pain and fatigue.
At the beginning of 2017 I tried to access psychological therapy for long term health problems. I wanted help accepting my chronic illness and dealing with no longer being able to do the things I used to and things people my age can do, I wanted some support in balancing my physical health and mental health. It took several months for them to tell me that they donāt offer support for chronic pain, between that they rejected me because I was under mental health services (I was in the process of being discharged and they were completely different services), they then said my self harm made me too much of a risk and they said they didnāt think Iād be able to manage classroom based psychoeducation (thanks for that).
Last time I checked neither my body or my brain can function without the other yet services treating each are still very separate and mental health services are often not accommodating for people with physical impairments and often arenāt accessible thereās also an assumption that if youāre disabled and have mental health problems then of course youāre depressed because youāre disabled because who wouldnāt be?
Ableism unfortunately is still well rooted within the medical profession and the even within the disability communities there is still too much separation of physical impairment and mental health issues.
Iām clearly no stranger to sharing my life both online and offline, if I was this blog wouldnāt exist and you wouldnāt be reading this now but offline Iām starting to get tired of sharing my story and talking to people about my history and mental health. Iāve spoken to so many people in different settings from pop up cafes to fundraisers, funding bids for work and over 1000 young people through volunteering on the youth service I now run and although logically I know itās not true it does feel as though there must be a shortage of people who havenāt heard my story by now.
