Counselling service? Why do I bother?

The title says it all really. I have been referred to the counselling service three times now. Each time I had the requisite 6 appointments. First counsellor was pretty good and helped a lot in the first stage of my depression and anxiety, second was a waste of space and decided to try and treat my insomnia as a cause rather than a symptom and the third was absolutely lovely. She helped me the most I feel. Even to the point of suggesting that I might be better with some further intensive therapy. This was consequently turned down because I'm not THAT anxious or depressed...

Let me just say that again, I was turned down because I wasn't at a certain pre-determined level. My treatment was stopped and I was expected to go and fend for myself. The third therapist gave me some tools to help me, but when the darkness started descending again, I didn't have anything to fall back on.

My problems are threefold and I normally downplay the paranoia aspect of my condition as it's not the most glamourous of things. Really feeling as though people are whispering about you and plotting behind your back to the point where all trust breaks down in friendships that have stood the test of time is not something that I like to talk about. The fact that you feel so worthless when you see others enjoying themselves is not a good thing for polite dinner conversation.

I have a theory that I know where this actually stems from... I was a precocious little brat as a child, the youngest of three brothers and there was one occasion that sticks in my memory for some reason.

My friends were having a party for some reason (I forget what it was for) and both of my brothers had been invited. They were my friends that were having the party and I had been left out. I wasn't going to take that lying down and went crying to my mum about it. She insisted that I be included in the party and I was duly accepted into the group. I was however ostracised by the group at the party and sat alone for the rest of it. At that point in my development, it was enough to be a part of the occasion even though I was not a part of the events unfolding around me. Now, I can look back on it and assess that, for whatever reason, they didn't want me in attendance and ai should have honoured that. I however ran to an authority figure demanding to be allowed access to something that I had been excluded from. Was it paranoia that I wasn't experience something that my friends were? I don't know as it was probably in the region of 35 years ago and only the bigger and more vivid elements stick in the memory. But that was the first time I can say that I felt the same sort of feeling that I am experiencing at the moment. That same isolation and self doubt.

I may have tools to help me now and be able to stand outside of myself dispassionately, but the ability to seriously do something about it is still lacking.

Which returns me back to my original point... The counselling service, do I play it straight and have to go through another round of 6 talking sessions ad nauseum? When will they see that borderline cases also might need further help? I suppose it's down to funding as with everything else. But it's not doing me any favours being in this constant limbo. 

Holiday this year necessary... A proper one this time, not a couple of stolen days away in the lakes. A full 2 weeks away from the crap and the politics and the clamouring of the students! Time to unwind, time to recharge and time to take stock!

Thanks to you guys Toby the way... For listening to my ranting and ravings. I hope that by layinmyself bare over the altar of the blogosphere, that some might see some similarities and hopefully get some help themselves rather than having to suffer with their problems... And for the rest, yes, I was a spoilt brat as a child and had robe the centre of attention, I would like to think that I've moved on since then. One of the reasons possibly why I am so socially awkward nowadays. But that's for another discussion at another time

I'm giving it a rest for once to provide a movie review. Be gentle, it's my first time!

Yes, you heard it correctly, I am giving my whining a rest for once and I'm going to talk about something that is very close to my heart.

Movies...

Well, not movies in general. One movie in particular.

A movie that I think is a John Carpenter masterpiece. 

Which one? You ask. The thing? Prince of darkness? Escape from New York? They Live?

None of those, although they are all very good in their own way. I am talking about a largely forgotten masterpiece. That of 'In the Mouth of Madness'.

 When I first saw this movie on its release, I was blown away by it as I had recently discovered Lovecraft and let's face it, it is a lovecraft story in everything other than name. At the time, I really didn't appreciate how intricate the plot was. I had recourse to discuss it a few weeks ago and realise that it was now available on region free DVD through Amazon.co.uk 

I bought it without hesitation hoping that it hadn't dated as badly as some of Carpenter's other movies have. I was not to be disappointed. It was every bit as good as I was expecting and with the added bonus of actually understanding some of the plot intricacies as well as some of the homages that were deliberately placed in there as deliberate hat tips towards Lovecraft and his writing.

It largely concerns the exploits of an insurance investigator who is sent to find a missing writer by the publisher that handles him. Sutter Cane out sells Stephen King two to one (according to the script) and has an army of loyal fans. His new book does strange things to the reader. The cast is delightfully strange and the main character is played by Sam Neill whose horror credentials are well established  and this movie probably secured his starring in Event Horizon. Jürgen Prochnow supports as the dark and enigmatic Sutter Cane. The supporting cast is actually quite incredible with David Warner and Charlton Heston to name but two. 

It is quite slow to get going, but if you are familiar with Lovecraft, you will be familiar with his penchant for painting idyllic pictures with only one or two small clues as to the horrors that will duly unfold. The film does start to unwind at quite a pace once the protagonists arrive in Hobb's End. There are the requisite amount of unspeakable monstrosities hiding just out of shot and the whole thing comes to a head with a really clever concept.

I won't spoil the finale for you, but the ending will have you scratching your head the first time you watch it, the second, there will be a dawning realisation of what you are watching.

I would personally give it an 8 out of 10 for originality and just general weirdness.

If you ever get the chance, watch it. Persevere with it you won't be disappointed

I'm going through something here...

OK, I don't know what I am going to write here, but I think I am having some sort of attack of paranoia. It's just come in so I am blogging it as it happens. Ms J is still,awake lying next to me, but I think I am hiding it quite well. I am however freaking out internally. Rate of breathing and heart rate are all quicker. Not sure if this is now building to anxiety. 

I started thinking about a complaint that I received from a student earlier this semester earlier this evening and have been stewing on it ever since . I haven't had any reassurances back about it from line managers. I don't know what is happening regarding it I was told I was not allowed to know what I had been accused of. This has put me in a bit of a panic. I'm sure that I would still be worried about it even if I was doing OK in myself without the need for medication. 

I am due back at work tomorrow, the student in question didn't bother coming to any of the lectures coming up to Xmas, but their presentations are due in on Tuesday and I still have no idea how I am supposed to approach this. Have I received any support about it? Nope. Are they taking into account the problems that I have been having? Not a clue! Am I really starting to freak out about it? You bet your fucking arse I am!!!!!

Feeling very cast adrift at work at the moment. I don't know who my line manager is, I don't know what my job entails any more as it's been changed that fucking often by subsequent heads of department and deans. It's about to be changed again from something that I have been doing for 11 years now to something completely different. I teach waaaay more than I should and they still won't fucking do anything about my job. I don't research, well it's not in my remit to do that, but I never really wanted to do that being more of a practitioner. But they won't do a thing about my contract without research profiles etc. there are no other jobs out there for me, the one that I did apply for last year got pulled by their dean for some reason (I heard from a colleague) and I was flanneled off with you don't have enough experience. I hadn't really thought about it before tonight, but I don't think that I would want to work for someone that would lie to me like that anyway, but at the time, I was pretty cut up about it.

Getting this out onto the screen is helping a little, not a huge amount though. I don't think I am going to get much sleep tonight with all of the adrenaline sloshing about in my system...

Why the hell do I put myself through this shit? What sort of a person would consciously consider this down to the Nth degree? Are they really compiling a case against me at work? Is this just something else to put in the Mark is incompetent and once we hit the magic number, his ass is grass file? I put myself through all of this, but it's worth it when I see a costume design student that finally gets how a pattern goes together, when a tech theatre student works out the optimum lighting angle for that spotlight she's been focussing. The smile on their faces, the comprehension in their eyes and then one spiteful individual complains and the whole fucking house of cards comes crashing down.

It's interesting to note that when I was discussing with colleagues about the possibility of moving on to a different academic institution, only one person said that they would miss me. One! How fucking worthless do you think I felt at that point?

Paranoia is a very strange beast, the slightest thing can set it off, but I am learning to identify when I am having an attack. Hence this evening's blog. I am writing it so that I can come back to it later and assess how I am coping with it. The answer at the moment seems to be not incredibly well. I am not sure how much help the pills are... I missed a couple of days over Christmas due to the doctor wig. Closed and me not realising that I had completely run out of them and I am wondering if this is some sort of kick back from that. I don't want to worry Ms. J with it as she has now fallen asleep, but it's not helping me to deal at the moment.

Is this coming off as being Whiney? I have no idea if it is or not. If these problems seem trivial to you guys reading this, believe me, in my head, they are not, they are a large part of my thought processes at the moment to the extent that I am having trouble concentrating on anything else. I may go downstairs and have a warm drink and see if I can work off some of this adrenaline by killings bikes or something. 

I made a resolution this morning... Not anything as twee as a New Years resolution or anything. It was more of a resolution to take some control back as I have relinquished so much of it to others. I go and I do and I am a happy little soldier. No more. My first action in taking control back is in my own body. I will be starting a regimen of weight loss and exercise over the coming year to lose at least 2 stone to get back to the point I was at 2.5 years ago when I quit smoking. The next part is to try and sort my head out. Come off the pills, de-stress. If that means quitting my job for a less stressful life then it might have to come to that. Academics get 6 months leave every 4-5 years so that they can research without teaching commitments so that they can write and publish. I may have to ask for a leave of absence for a while to see if I can get my head back on straight.

Feeling slightly better now for getting my thoughts out of my head and onto the page. This is something that I think I need once in a while, a cathartic scream at the heavens... Shame I don't live closer to the sea as I used to enjoy going for a paddle. It used to ground me and I could tell my concerns and secrets to the waves and they wouldn't be moved by them, they would take them and keep on lapping away, taking them out to sea away from me so that I could move on...

That's just given me an idea...

Electronic messages in a bottle. The recipient writes down whatever they want to, poems, dreams, fears etc. Saves them on a USB drive and then seals the drive up in a bottle which they then throw out to sea. This might help me rid myself of some demons.

The bottle is inscribed with the legend. Feel free to delete me and use me for positive purposes, this drive contains my demons, I don't want or need them any more. 

We haven't really heard from you recently, are you OK?

The simple answer to that is... Why yes, surprisingly enough I am doing OK.

Things that would have sent me careening off the rails earlier this year are not being such a problem at the moment.

Is it the pills? Could be. Is it the therapy? Not so sure about that. It's a bit of a slog getting through the therapy sessions although my therapist has suggested a more rigorous treatment of which I am a little nervous.  I know that it's up to me and all that and I can call a halt to it if necessary, but I mentioned in my last session that one of my goals is to be well which took her aback a little. I know it's a ver subjective thing and with the whole 'once you have knowledge of a thing it is impossible to un-know it, I would actually like to feel as good as I used to before I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety which isn't going to happen as it is something that I have to live with now possibly for a long time and even then, it'll still be there hanging over my head.

That's something that I didn't originally consider, even if I work at the university for the next 5 years and my sick leave is expunged from the records, would I need to inform prospective employers about the depression and anxiety? My gut says no, why the hell should I, but my head says of course you should. If they want you that badly, they should be aware of it as much as any other medical condition and it shouldn't make a difference. Although the emphasis on that sentence is the word shouldn't. Of course it invariably will have an effect on how I am viewed by a potential employer.

Illness of any sort if it is chronic (and let's face it, depression and anxiety are both chronic conditions that can reoccur) needs to be acknowledged. I heard a radio report a couple of days ago that said that employers must now take into account and encompass obesity related issues into the workplace. I think it's a good idea, but not to the detriment of a person's health. Why then does mental health still have this stigma attached to it? No, I was committed. No, I wasn't suicidal (even though I do know how I would do it down to the last detail. Don't get me started on that one relating to the therapy service blunt scalpel approach to periodic appraisal of a patient). No I didn't want to go into a bell tower and pick people off one by one (well, where can one find a decent high velocity rifle and suitable vantage point in the UK?) I DID feel very low and not worthy of any attention, I let myself go (in fact I still haven't picked myself up on that score as yet). Why then can an employer, potential or otherwise still discriminate on the grounds of mental health. My current employer has been fantastic, however I could just as easily have been sidelined and quietly disposed of somewhere else.

So yeah, I am starting to get back into an even keel and that has been down to an understanding employer and understanding friends and family. When I finally admitted to my parents that I had needed to take some time off for depression and anxiety issues, they were a little confused by it, but backed me all the way. 

I will close by saying one thing. You may have a decent life, you may have the love of a perfect spouse and money in the bank, a roof over your head and a good job, but depression doesn't respect that, anxiety doesn't care about those things, in fact, anxiety can be fuelled by those things. It doesn't matter if you are one of the funniest and most well liked people on this earth, it can get you and twist your noodle into a knot that is impossible to see a way out of. I was lucky, as I caught it in time, that particular worm didn't have a chance to dig it's way too far into my brain, but for others, it is a very real and dangerous thing. Just check with friends that you may not have heard of in a little while, particularly at this time of year. Just a hello, how're you doing is normally adequate they may want to have a bit of a rant, and do you know what? That's OK as far as I am concerned because if they are still ranting, they haven't become hopeless which is a very desperate place to be.

So now, I go back to shouting at motorway overpasses. Have a fabulous winter celebration of your choice. Personally, I have been kicking back and having nothing to do with tradition this year. We haven't even put any decorations up yet!!

It's been a little while

So yeah, it's been a while and I haven't updated. I am still alive, I am still seeing my therapist and the doctor gave me 2 months of citalopram when I spoke to her last. 

How am I doing you ask?

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you will know what I mean when I say not bad with a weird little half smile... I really mean that I am having a difficult time at the moment and I don't want to bring you down with my lunacy, anxiety and depression. So it's just easier to say not bad... People have stopped asking though. On the one hand, this makes it easier to retreat back into my shell and protect myself, on the other I start to feel like they don't actually want to hear how I am doing so they are afraid to ask anymore. 

Recently, I've been feeling quite down, the futility and hopelessness is returning and I don't want it to. I mentioned it to her Ladyship a couple of days ago to let her know that there may be a rough few weeks ahead of us. She took it in her stride as she normally does when I let her know that I am feeling low. To the extent that I was treated with ice cream for pud this evening. 

Speaking of this evening, I got out of the car after coming home and came into the house singing one of the songs that I had heard on Radio 2 on the way home this evening. Ms. J said that she likes to hear me singing as I come in as she hadn't heard it in a long while. I wasn't aware that this was the case, but the more I think about it, the more I think that she is right. By the end of the evening, I had had an argument with my lady about absolutely nothin. That's how quickly my mood can change.

I don't know what to do at the moment. There is a phrase in the North east (we have a lot of phrases) I'm all at sixes and sevens... That's how I feel at the moment. Anything can set me off on a negative or a positive swing. There isn't any kind of trigger that I can see. 

On the plus side, work have been great so far. I have had some of my workload removed from me for a little while. I have a little bit more for the back end of the semester, but hopefully I'll be able to cope with it. 

So there you go, that's what life is like in my little corner of crazy at the moment. Updates will follow as and when I have anything to report.

In the meantime, stay tuned to this channel.

Well that actually happened didn't it?

I wrote a very long blog post about Robin Williams this evening. It was self indulgent and I related his condition to my own in a way that I shouldnt have. His black dog was a completely different breed to mine.

I won't say anything else on the matter except to say that I'll miss your work. Rest easy buddy.

update

I won't post what I want to post here. I want to scream and shout about stuff in general, but I won't. I've now been off for a little while and  I thought that I was getting my head together quite well. As it happens, it was a very fragile thing. I thought I was becoming more grounded and able to cope with stuff. Turns out all it takes is one thing to knock me back to the anxiety that I was experiencing before. The only good thing is that now I can analyse it. I am still anxious, but I can also look at myself from outside and see what is happening. Is this an effect of the increased dose of citalopram? I have no idea.

If I were to analyse this dispassionately, I would say that these things happen, The other side of me (thankfully not as all encompassing as before) says why the hell does it always happen to you though? The paranoid man would think that he was being actively targetted. The truth of the matter is that it's probably going to end up as just one of those things.

I am rambling, but this stream of consciousness rambling is probably helping me no end. I want to get this out of my head before it becomes something that takes root and digs in with insidious tendrils around my brain so that it becomes all encompassing and I start obsessing. I have done this in the past. I don't really mind/care if you are reading this post. I won't be publicising it on facebook and that tends not to draw in the readership so I am pretty safe with this.

I seem to be a victim of poor timing. I have been a victim of poor timing for quite some time now as far as I can tell. Possibly to the point where it couldn't possibly be coincidence any longer and it might start to look like it is purposefully happening. Again with the paranoia? Yep, unfortunately. That's something that is still swirling around the pea soup of my noodle.

I've been considering jacking work in again. Is this mid life crisis? I sincerely hope so. If that is actually the case, it won't last into my later life. I have visions of me at some point in the future yelling at flyovers with a can of stella in my hand. Is that something anyone can identify with? I'm fucking scared. I really am. Am I losing my mind? Is this normal? I wrote a while ago that 'it is a dark time for the rebellion'. I wish the me now could tell the me then that that wasn't darkness. this is darkness. This is hopefully as dark as it gets.

But isn't that what it is before the dawn? I certainly hope so. The sun had better get a fucking move on. I'm waiting here tapping my foot and looking pointedly at my watch.

Just to clarify, I am NOT suicidal. I am far too narcissistic for that.

My grandpappy always said, leave them with a gag (Well he would have if he was on the stage and didn't work in a garage but the sentiment is there and I don't want to fib to anyone)

So here you go...

Two psychotherapists pass each other in the hallway. the first says to the second, "Hello!"
The second smiles back nervously and half nods his head. When he is comfortably out of earshot, he mumbles, "God, I wonder what *that* was all about?"