Finding HopeSo I Accidentally Went Into Withdrawal…
Posted on June 3, 2018
Most of the time, I’m very good at taking my pills. I’ve had a few moments where a change in routine or a dramatic event has thrown off my rhythm but usually, I’m very diligent about taking my medication. We have a good relationship, even when I’m struggling with side effects: I know that I’m taking them to improve my quality of life and that knowledge helps me to push through whatever worries or difficulties that I have.
Having said all of that, I accidentally went into withdrawal a few weeks ago. A series of exceptionally busy days left me so tired that I just kept forgetting to take my meds before going to bed. As a one off, it’s not great but it’s not a huge deal. It happens and you resolve to be more careful. But with everything going on, suddenly four days had passed and I was in withdrawal.
I’d had a headache the day before, one that felt like my brain was too big for my skull and made me feel nauseous if I moved my eyes too fast. It was very unpleasant but I hadn’t thought much of it since it followed a very long, very busy day; a terrible headache after something like that isn’t uncommon for me. It’s like a hangover, but from socialising rather than alcohol. So I hadn’t been too worried but when I woke up the next morning (the fourth day without my medication), I couldn’t think properly. It’s hard to explain but it was like I couldn’t hold on to a single thought: one would appear and before I could follow it through, another ten would’ve flashed passed, leaving me confused and nauseous. I’ve never felt like we have full control over our thoughts – sometimes ideas appear out of nowhere and sometimes you can’t stop thinking about something regardless of how hard you try – but I do believe we have some control; you can choose which pathways to follow and which to leave unexplored, even if you can’t forget about it, for example. So to have absolutely no control over my mind was terrifying. I tried to keep calm and slowly collect my thoughts but I just couldn’t do it and ended up sobbing in my bed, curled up in the foetal position. It was really, really unpleasant.
My Mum called my psychiatrist and his advice was to take a normal dose straight away and then restart my normal routine that night so that’s what I did and within a couple of hours, I felt more normal. I could think again; the thought progressions had returned to their normal speed and made more sense, rather than being so chaotic and out of my control. So that was a huge improvement but I was completely exhausted by the experience. I spent the rest of the day on the sofa.
It was almost a week before I felt like myself again. I had trouble concentrating and had a tendency to zone out mid conversation; it kind of felt like I didn’t have enough brainpower to sustain one. Everything felt much more tiring.
So that’s my little cautionary tale. It’s so important to take your meds responsibly because not doing so can have pretty serious consequences. I was lucky: it was miserable but easily and quickly rectified. It could’ve been much worse. So, if you’re reading this and need to take your medication, please drop everything and take it now! This isn’t supposed to be advice for how to handle withdrawal (if you need that advice, please ask your medical professional!), more a description of the experience in the hope that it might be helpful to someone. Taking medication can be such a complicated, confusing ordeal and not talking about it only makes the process harder.
Autistic and Afraid of the Dentist
Posted on May 26, 2018
The title says it all, really.
As a kid, I was always really anxious about going to the dentist. I mean, it’s a person poking around inside your mouth with sharp instruments and criticising you while you’re completely unable to respond, clench your teeth, or even swallow. If that isn’t a nightmare, I don’t know what is. It was always a traumatic experience that ended in tears. So – of course – I needed braces and in order to get braces, I had to have dental surgery to remove two teeth and attach a little chain to another to gradually pull it into it’s correct place. That was attached to the braces, which was already a painful experience in itself. It’s also worth pointing out that during that surgery, another tooth was damaged and I’ve had trouble with it ever since. I’d stress about the next appointment for months and every check up was a distressing, exhausting ordeal. So, with all of that, I was pretty anti-dentist.
The Autism diagnosis changed things: people started to understand why it was such a big deal for me and new options became available. At the time, I’d been seeing a friend of my Mum’s who was a dentist and going to her practice, just to try and get used to the whole thing. But, as she worked privately, it really wasn’t a long-term plan and I was dreading the moment we’d have to find a new person and start all over again. But when we told her about the diagnosis, she told us about a specialist dental clinic, one that deals with all sorts of disabilities, and said that she would refer me.
Going to this place was an entirely different experience for me. The dentist and dental nurse were absolutely lovely and I’ve had the two of them ever since the first appointment. It never feels rushed and in that first appointment, we spent most of it talking, some about my dental history but mostly about me: my music, my pets, and so on. I almost forgot that I was at the dentist. At the end, she spent about a minute looking at my teeth (with only the mirror and nothing pointy) and then we were done. It had been okay; I could relax.
Over the following appointments, we took baby steps. She introduced me to all the instruments and let me touch them so I knew what they’d feel like. Then she’d use them on my teeth, one by one, explaining what she was doing and giving me lots of opportunities to stop. It was such a big deal to have people listen to my anxieties and take me seriously. I was and I am so grateful to them.
It’s been slow going with many freak outs along the way. The need for a filling threw a spanner in the works because I really wasn’t ready for all of that. But the crisis was averted when they referred me for a general anaesthetic – just as well as I ended up needing a tooth removed. Obviously, general anaesthetics aren’t a long-term solution to dentist anxiety but given the progress I’d been making, we all decided that it was the right choice. And once that was over, we got back on track.
I’ve been going there for two and a half years now and my appointment last week was definitely a milestone. I let the dentist clean and polish all of my teeth all in one go; no breaks, no anaesthesia, no nothing. It was all me. That is HUGE! I haven’t been able to do that in years and apart from the three-hour nap I needed afterwards, I feel pretty good about it. It wasn’t fun but my anxiety didn’t get to an unmanageable level and I got through it; I’m really proud of that. Really, really proud.
There’s a long way left to go but it actually feels like, one day, I’ll get to a place where I can go to the dentist and have a filling and it not be that big of a deal. Imagine that?! What a thought! I am so, so grateful to my dentist and dental nurse for taking such good care of me.
Anyway, I just wanted to make this post because I know that there are a lot of people – with Autism, with mental health problems – who really struggle with going to the dentist in the same way I do, and this route isn’t a well known one. But there are options other than just forcing yourself to go. So, if the dentist is a problem for you, please talk to your dentist, your doctor, and consult google. It shouldn’t be so hard and it doesn’t have to be.
Mental Health Awareness Week 2018
Posted on May 21, 2018
(Blog Note: I was hoping to post this yesterday but I just had to take a break from everything so it’s a day late. Sorry!)
As many of you will be aware, this last week, 14th to 20th May, was Mental Health Awareness Week and although I fully intended to have a series of mental health related posts ready to go up, life conspired against me to make that impossible. A big part of that was putting my first single out (available hereeeeeee!) so I’m not complaining but it has been stressful and taking up a lot of my brain. So my posts have been a bit all over the place – I’m working on that, I promise. But I did want to acknowledge this week because it is important.
I have seen so many social media posts this week where people have shared their stories and struggles with mental health and I’ve been blown away by each one. Sharing this stuff is such a big deal and I’m in awe of everyone who chooses to do so. This sort of stuff can make you feel like the world is shrinking around you but feeling understood opens it back up; it’s incredibly healing. I didn’t know how much I needed it until I found it. In my experience, talking about all of this has gotten easier, over time and with ‘practice,’ but it’s still hard. I still find myself hitting an invisible wall, choking on the air in my lungs, knowing that everything might change if I say the words out loud. It’s happened before. But I know that that’s the fear talking. And most of the time, I know better than the fear.
If you’ve followed me for a while, you know that I live with Autism Spectrum Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Anxiety, Social Anxiety, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, although I wouldn’t blame you for losing track. My posts tend to jump around a lot, between different experiences and different diagnoses. Plus, things can change over time. Over the last twelve months, I’ve struggled particularly with the OCD, the anxiety, and the depression – the depression most of all. This time last year I was in a really bad place and one of the consequences of that was the decision to change my medication; it wasn’t the right thing for me anymore. Since then, I’ve been trying to find a new one without much luck; the side effects have been a rollercoaster ride and most of the time, I’m too numb to really feel any of my emotions. True, I’ve had very few meltdowns but, if meltdowns are the price of feeling things and therefore feeling like I’m actually alive, I will take them. So I’m not done with the medication search. Not yet.
I guess I’m surviving. I’m getting through. Hopefully, by next year, it will be more than that.
This week might have been about speaking out but that doesn’t mean it’s the only course of action that requires courage. Simply living with mental illness requires courage and as long as you are doing what you need to do to be safe and happy (or what will get you there), that’s all that matters.
Finding Hope 