Cables

so i google “can you feel your depression in your head”

because there’s no other way I can express that sense of my brain

being much likeĀ a tangle of cables.

but apparently some people report feeling a something

like a pressure or a fullness there

it’s odd, really.

but it makes sense considering how

at certain times

that tangled cables feeling consumes most of the rest of my body.

a horrid kind of bondage

with rope made of brain chemistry and a yapping little voice

repeating the same damn things over and over

until you’re almost breathless with the knowledge

of how badly your mind can turn on you.

 

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The Burnt

I’m burnt out.

Simple as that. There’s no point in me weighing my words or giving this post a funny little introduction. Because there ain’t nothing funny about this. Those three words can’t, to me, be spun into something they’re not.

It’s important for me to write it down as plainly as this. It’s important in times like this, when health both mental and physical are collaborating to create a giant and painful fog around me, that I write it down like this. It’s like sending myself a semaphore message though the fog – a Norman-from-Bake-Off-esque missive in written form, which I can come back to and read so I can remind myself that this is what’s going on.

It helps. Just like I use Spoon Theory to express how this feels to others, this is how I express myself to… well, ehm… myself. I am burnt out. And it’s okay to sit down and re-evaluate for a second. Take breaths. Relax shoulders. Rest and sit with self in some weird form of peace.

I’m writing this down now because in the last few days especially, I have been angry with myself for not “being more productive”. Full on, red-hot, how-dare-you-you-silly-shit rage. Which in itself is completely anti-productive as it sends you into this weird cycle of apologising to yourself for no reason as you go into overdrive trying to keep up with doing everything this anger is telling you you’re “meant” to be doing but aren’t doing. “Meant” to be doing is the key here – because your brain will start making shit up that really isn’t essential or time sensitive or something and then it’ll start shouting at you because this thing that isn’t of the essence/deadline-sensitive is something you should have already done. Twice.

I’m burnt out. Day job, tiring brain, tiring body, Weird Cycle of Shit I’m Supposedly Meant To Be Doing.

So, yeah.

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Sex and Depression: An update

A couple of weeks ago, I managed to get a double appointment with the new GP at our surgery. This double appointment came at the recommendation of the GP herself, considering that the first time she saw me I was babbling everything out at once and tearing up something awful. Obviously, I needed a bit more time to explain what I was feeling and, ever so kindly, she made the time.

I’m back on SSRIs, because as I was talking to the GP it became crystal clear to me that I had, essentially, sacrificed my mental health for the sake of an orgasm instead of finding a way to let the two co-exist. And I can’t have just one or the other. I don’t want to have glorious, toe-curling and mindboggling orgasms but then spend the rest of my day drifting into terrifying dark places in my head. In the couple of months in which I wasn’t on SSRIs, I had the most vivid, concentrated and, quite frankly, shocking anxiety attacks of my life. They were tiring as hell, both for myself and ILB.

So, I admitted to the GP that I wanted to be back on SSRIs, but was afraid it might impact my libido again. It’s always going to be a risk, but it was one I was willing to take and work my way around. So, she prescribed me something called sertraline and so far it’s working for me. I’ve had a couple of weird moments – even suicidal ones – but those will pass and I now know that I have a GP who I can talk to and who will take her time to listen to me and my worries.

And I have a loving and understanding boyfriend who means the world to me. And if anything, I am confident that we can work our way around the sex thing. If I’m honest, so far it’s not been on my mind. Sex has been like a foggy kind of thought, overtaken by other things like anthology editing, writing and the day job. I want to make sure it doesn’t stay foggy, but I’m not entirely sure how to do that. It’s like I’m feeling extra self-concious at the moment, not knowing whether I want to give in to loving touches and deep kisses or just crawl under a blanket and hide from the world.

But I’m sure I’ll find a way. I always tend to do.

 

PS – We did end up having sex on Valentine’s Day – but that brought a whole different set of problems… of the ribbed and dotted kind.

 

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