Here We Go Again…


2016 was a horrible year. There I said it.

It took so many talented and wonderful people from us.

We had the appalling atrocities in Syria, the refugee crisis and the depressing lack of compassion displayed by people around the world. We had the rise of the far right across Europe. We saw devastating acts of terrorism against ordinary people just living their lives. We had Brexit and its horrendous aftermath which saw some parts of society seeming to think the decision made racism and bigotry a perfectly acceptable thing.

And then we had Trump… I cannot even go there. It still feels unreal.

I noticed so many of my friends struggle with their own physical and mental health and found it very hard to witness. It seemed this year got to everyone in one way or another.

Personally, I had a very rough year. My depression and anxiety peaked and I have yet to come out the other side. My self destructive behaviours hit an all time high; my health has suffered and I feel truly dreadful.

I can sum it up thus:img_7065

But today is the final day of this annus horribilis and we can only hope that 2017 is brighter.

I know I have a very steep mountain to climb in terms of self care and recovery and I am not looking forward to the challenges ahead. To be perfectly honest, it feels pretty impossible right now.

It will not be easy. But, unless I want to, literally, kill myself, I simply have to do it.

I truly hope next year brings you all, my readers and friends, only good things.

I wish you all good health, happiness, good fortune and good times. I know I can be a miserable old cow but underneath it all I really do care about y’all.

Here’s to better days ahead…

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Ciao

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved

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Do You Remember Me? (a rambling post)


Yes, it’s me. I’m back. Well, for now anyway.

I have been stuck in a miserable, depressed state for so long that I can’t even put a time frame on it, and one of the side effects of that is that I haven’t been writing.

I used to have constant ideas for blog posts or stories running through my head but these days I have nothing. My imagination has dried up. My brain is empty.

I hate the effect this has on the OH. I know he hates to see me this way but feels powerless to help me. (No-one can help me. I am the only one who can help me.) I know it causes him pain to see me in this state. It feels selfish of me to continue to feel this way. Selfish and self indulgent.

I wish I could shake this off. I know I have managed to do it before, but I feel so very tired and unable to do it again.

I feel stuck. Completely and utterly stuck.

And when I feel this way, the horrible voices return.

They tell me I am useless, lazy, pointless, pathetic.

I have created my own misery by making dreadful choices, which have lead to a ridiculous amount of weight gain. Looking in the mirror, or feeling out of breath and sweaty at the slightest physical exertion, only add to my self-loathing. What a stupid woman I have been to have sabotaged myself so.

As I sit here now, I feel that I do not have the energy or drive to make the changes necessary. I simply do not know where to begin. I hate going out because I look and feel fat and lumpy. Walking makes me hot, sweaty and breathless. I could exercise at home as I used to before but I can’t even be bothered to do that.

I don’t know what to do or how to begin.

Yesterday I cried, cursing the fact that I have people who rely on me and want me to stick around. Simply ‘opting out’ felt like such an easier choice than facing another day feeling this way. But I do have people, (well, the OH and the dogs), who would miss me and I love them way too much to cause them any further hurt.

So here I am; staying here, facing another day of feeling like the world’s biggest loser.

If I was a believer I would pray for strength or inspiration to turn my life around, but hey, god is a fiction and there is no magic spell to fix me.

As I said before, only I can fix me.

Now if only I knew how to…

 

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.

 

Saying Goodbye…


Today, I did a thing.

I finally, at long last, took a step towards accepting my new reality.

I filled a charity bag with all the clothes I will never fit into again.

It was a difficult and challenging thing to do – it felt as if I was saying that, even if I do lose weight, I will not ever be buying my clothes in the kids section again.

I truly marvelled at how tiny some of the pieces were… was I ever that slight?! Really?

So, there are some 11 year old girls in Chernobyl that will be getting a stash of jeans and tops soon…

…and I must accept that my days of being a waif are over.

Ciao,

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.

 

 

A Note on Turning Point


Warning! This post contains a very large and potentially nauseating dose of positivity and hope… proceed with caution!

I wrote and shared my post Turning Point yesterday with more than a little trepidation.

My fear was that people would think I was exaggerating, making it all up, or just plain crazy.

To say I have been blown away by the support and kindness shown to me in response to the post, both on here and twitter, is an understatement. I want to say a sincere and heartfelt thank you to everyone who commented and affirmed that I had handled the situation well and with strength and courage.

*

Last night I had perhaps two hours of broken sleep at best and was very tired this morning. I was tempted to stay home, but instead I left the bed at 7.30, ate a good breakfast, chatted to friends and got ready to go out.

I walked into town, enjoying the breeze on my skin.

I managed to get the bones of a new piece of flash fiction formed in my head, as well as a few ideas for a card I want to make for the OH and my anniversary later this month. I smiled at a gorgeous Labrador who was carrying today’s edition of The Daily Mirror in his mouth for his owner. I treated myself to some new pens for crafting and colouring. I popped into the doctor’s office to change my prescription for a new antibiotic, (the one I was on was ripping my tummy apart Aliens-style). I bought some salad and fresh bread and, as I walked home, I inhaled the fresh green scent of the hedges on the side of my road being trimmed by a tractor, (which surprisingly did not trigger my hay fever). As I walked up my driveway I caught sight of the two little fluffy white heads of my furry daughters perched looking eagerly out the lounge window and it made me laugh. They really do resemble two little ghosts.

I came, drank some ice-cold water, cuddled them and decided to write this.

All very mundane and not making for riveting reading, but you know what?

I feel good!

I am not thinking about my body, my size, my appearance, how much I don’t measure up.

I enjoyed the very tiny, simple things that we all to often miss. I used my imagination. I smiled at people. I enjoyed the physicality of walking and carrying home groceries.

I am so very ready to feel different.

I deserve to feel better.

I deserve to feel happy.

I deserve to take care of myself and treat myself with care.

I deserve to remind myself that I am a kind, caring, smart, funny, good and strong person.

I am more than my appearance.

I am more than my past experiences and traumas.

I am more than the mistakes I have made.

I know there will be dips but if determination alone can get me to where I want and need to be then I am feeling hopeful.

If you see me slipping remind me ok?

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And once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all.

💓💓💓

Ciao!

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.

Turning Point


With my hand on my heart, I promise that everything I am about to tell you is 100% true. I have not embellished or exaggerated anything. I like to think I can spin a good story, but even I could not make this shit up.

Last Thursday I went to see a psychiatrist for the very first time in my life. I had told my GP how incredibly low I had been feeling; all the self-hatred I felt and the comfort I got from imagining ending it all. He listened, reassured me I was not in fact crazy and referred me to a private psychiatrist.

I sat outside the psychiatrist’s office waiting to be seen. My appointment was for 3pm. Another man arrived and sat next to me. This made me wonder, as I had been told the appointment would last an hour, so I thought this man must have arrived incredibly early for his. After waiting about 10 minutes, the doctor came out and just looked at us both, nodded to the man next to me, who got up and went into his office. I was confused. I called the number of his secretary to confirm I had the appointment time correct and she came out to confirm I was right and said he was running behind. I asked if the appointment would last an hour and she said yes. Ok. I was rattled – having been referred to him for depression and anxiety I thought this was a careless way to treat a new patient.

At about 3.40pm he came out of his office again and just nodded to me, which I took to be my invitation inside. As I sat down, he asked me what had brought me there and I began to talk, giving him a history of how I had been feeling. Midway through this he suddenly leapt from his chair and bounded across the room to invade my personal space and stare into my face, stopping me cold. I was so taken aback. He returned to his chair and asked me if I wore contact lenses because my eyes were “incredibly green”. Stunned at this bizarre turn of events, I replied that no they were just my eyes. Then, as if nothing had happened, he told me to carry on.

After listening to me and taking notes, he looked at me and said, in a sing-song voice, “But you’re lovely.” Yes, he said that. He then went on to tell me that Estee Lauder couldn’t exist without women like me, that looks don’t matter, that I shouldn’t care what people think of me. Basically, he hadn’t listened to a word I had said. I told him he seemed to have formed an impression that I was a superficial and shallow person who judges people solely on their appearance, which was not at all the truth. My feelings of self loathing and disgust were nothing to do with how I felt any one else perceived me, they were entirely coming from inside me. He looked at me again and said, “But look at you, you’re svelte!” and carried on to tell me about his love for the Kardashians. Really!

Readers, I am far from svelte! A recent weigh in at a hospital appointment revealed my BMI to have nudged just into the overweight range, and I was sitting across from this doctor wearing a G cup bra… not svelte at all!

I usually never stand up for myself, certainly not in the company of someone in what I perceive to be an authority position, but I simply couldn’t stop myself this time. I told him that by calling me svelte he had made not only question his understanding of the word, but also his judgment in general. (Incidentally, when I told my GP about this later he was delighted with my response!)

I told him that when I was underweight, wearing age 11 clothes and teeny-tiny that I still saw a fat person in the mirror and wasn’t happy then either. His reply was, “Have you ever seen anyone in Somalia look happy?” I was pretty speechless by now.

He enquired what hobbies I had and I told him I blog. He didn’t know what a blog was so I had to explain it to him. He asked what type of fiction I wrote and I knew I didn’t want to tell him about my erotica – I wasn’t going to hand him that nugget to play with. I told him I write dark stories about the darker side of humanity. He quickly told me I shouldn’t be writing “that stuff” and instead I should write “happy stories”. He then went on to tell me the TV shows I watch and the books I read were wrong and that I should be watching Modern Family… he repeated this several times. The man really loves Modern Family.

I could tell you more of the ways he blithely dismissed my thoughts, feelings, opinions and beliefs but to be honest it is exhausting to repeat it all. Suffice to say he brushed off everything I talked about, including my love of dogs, as in his opinion cats were better.

The final nail in the coffin of this delightful encounter was this:

I was so very ready to turn my life around, so desperate to feel better, that I disclosed something to him that only the OH knows, I have never told another soul about this. It is a secret that carries with it a burden of shame for me and it was not easy to divulge it. In my opinion, I showed tremendous courage in sharing this information and I am sad and disgusted to tell you how it was received. His jaw dropped, he leaned forward in his seat, a look of complete shock on his face and gasped, “Really!!” I felt judged, shamed and embarrassed. I was not expecting such a reaction from a mental health professional, who surely must have seen and heard things far more shocking than what I had told him.

I had tears in my eyes as I left his office and was visibly shaking. He shook my hand and told me it was a pleasure to have met me and that he wanted to see me again in two weeks. I was numb.

The OH was angry as hell when I told him about the whole thing, but he was delighted that I had stood up for myself and affirmed that I had shown courage and strength.

I spent the rest of the day mulling over what had happened and trying to decide how to proceed. As it happened, I had an appointment with my GP the morning after this so I went and told him everything that had happened. He was astonished and could not apologise enough. He said he felt he had let me down by referring me to that psychiatrist and was concerned and angry about my treatment. In particular, he felt the comment at the start about my eyes was incredibly inappropriate and he agreed about the comment about me being svelte was also wrong. He looked genuinely remorseful and saddened by what I had told him and asked me how I wanted to proceed. I told him I was not going back to this psychiatrist and that I would rather look at new meds and be monitored by my GP. He agreed that this would work and we discussed treatments.

I have sent a letter to the illustrious Dr. Byrne cancelling my next appointment and enclosed a cheque for the €100 payment as I just want an end to it and do not have the energy to dispute his charge. My GP told me my story will certainly change his referral practice and I suspect Dr. Byrne will not be getting any more business from my GP!

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So, today I will take my first dose of my new meds.

 

I am hopeful. I am positive. I feel stronger than I have in a while. I think in a strange way that psychicatrist provoked something in me that made me think, “I deserve better than this”, and revealed to me how determined I am to feel better.

Here’s to what I sincerely hope is my turn around.

Ciao!

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.

Word For Wednesday (W4W) #68


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Play along here!

This week’s word is

Ennui

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How I have been feeling and some explanation as to why my W4W is a day late!

I need distraction. I need stimulation. I need to be busy.

I need to not be so fucking meh!

Someone shake me? Slap me? Give me a kick up the arse!

I will try, my lovely friends, to remove my own head from where it is lodged far up my rectum soon and revert to being a cheerful, productive blogger… I really will try.

Peace out.

*drops the mike…

Ciao!

💋

Copyright, 2016, k1kat.com

All rights reserved.