When there's nothing on the telly

Aren't you supposed to have sex?


Instead I find things to wash, and he finds Tomb Raider to play.

I had coffee and cake in Tescos with a man who has schizophrenia today. I've never knowingly met someone with this condition before, which is neither here nor there, as it manifests itself differently in each individual. In fact, some of his more unusual behaviours seem more in line with suspected but undiagnosed aspergers. Poor bugger really does have a lot of things to contend with in terms of fitting in with the general population. He seemed very timid and vulnerable, and although articulate kept getting stuck on saying the same things. 'I get the screams, Katherine, I have an-ice-scream' was one. Although he managed not to scream the hour we were out, he was obviously struggling at times. I wish it was possible to look around inside people's brains in the same way as you can their intestines. I'm sure the results would be far more interesting.

Musings from my long walk home

when the 11C eludes me.


This new blog idea hasn't exactly got off to a flying start has it? This reflects how busy I have been since my first post. It also reflects the fact that my other half* didn't have band practice all last week because his drummer fractured a rib playing football. I don't like using the laptop when Pete is home of an evening. Firstly because he will insist on saying things to me, breaking my concentration, and making me snap at him to shh. Secondly because I'd rather be on the sofa cuddling him.


So as this is just a rushed entry I'll make do with shopping observations.


Top Shop


I bought Dubble easter eggs for the folks from Oxfam, because they were cheap and boxed in cardboard. So I thought I ought to buy a bar for myself, just to check it... Glad to report that Dubble chocolate has come a long way, taste wise. Something Green n Blacks could learn from because their milk chocolate is a bit rank, in comparison to their dark chocolate, which is the best thing known to man.


Actually, the best thing known to man is the Boots meal deal. In particular the following combination: Skinnie Minnie hummus and carrot sandwich, Innocent smoothie, Boots chocolate cake. Added bonus: the sandwich box is compostable, the smoothie bottle is recycled, and the cake rapper is so flimsy as to be inconsequential. Perfection.


Flop Shop


Sainsburys were doing that annoying thing they do of selling overpriced skinless free ranged chicken breasts, when they know full well they can sell free range chicken breasts are far more normal prices with their skins on. So I had to buy chicken thighs instead, and can be seen attempting to hack off the required meat for my curry from them in the kitchen tomorrow evening.


*'the other half'. Term derided by old-school feminists. 'Why do you need someone to complete you?!' etc. However I stand by the term. Were I to lose Pete, it would not feel like losing a limb, but like losing part of my brain. If the brain is the seat of self, then he is indeed part of me. I know I'm not alone in this. But it is about expansion, not completion. There is strength in numbers, but to get away from the binary you have to get from 1 to 2, and perhaps if you get this initial relationship right, the others stand a chance.

In praise of escitalopram

In the old days, when blogs were diaries and traditionally began on 1st January, I used to take great pleasure in filling in my background for the benefit of a rather optimistically imagined reader. Even though this information usually didn't differ much from the previous year's. And even though on no occasion did this activity give me enough oomph to continue with the diary for any longer than February.

Now, I can't be bothered with all that, so I'll just launch into it. I have an anxiety disorder, and for the past four or so months have been taking escitalopram to deal with it. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not exactly a big pill popper. Even though I love love love zopiclone for its ability to be the only thing that can actually knock me out when all else fails, I don't otherwise get any pleasure from taking it. So, firmly in the belief that my disorder was entirely down to learned behaviour, I have spent the past 10 years experimenting with various different methods in order to unlearn it.

This worked, mostly. But nevertheless an underlying core of anxiety persisted, that nothing was able to quash. And it was holding me back in my recovery to such an extent that I was developing a secondary depression as a consequence. Until I thought, enough! I'm done with this stupid biological reaction to events!

First my GP put me on citalopram, which is the cheap n cheerful (and unlicensed) cousin to escitalopram. You know how in some families you can get a great dim oaf of a person, and at the same time, a sensitive, sophisticated person, and you're at a loss to figure out how the two are related? Well escitalopram is to citalopram what Lisa is to Homer.

Citalopram made me take to my bed, full of the shakes and the dizzies. It also, weirdly (as it's not a listed side effect) brought back my agoraphobia to an extent that I haven't felt for a good 8 years. A simple trip to the garage for some milk suddenly seemed like an enormous, barely tolerable challenge. Well, at the time I had job interviews and couldn't be doing with this nonsense, which felt like it was putting me back years. So citalopram didn't last long.

What a contrast escitalopram was! Barely any initial side effects, just a bit of the wobbles, and a strange effect on the body's sodium levels which resulted in my legs going a bit numb. A novelty, if anything. And the results? Well:

(by the way, I like lists)

Sleep!

For the first time in 15 years, i.e. since I was 12, I am sleeping peacefully, consistently, indeed sometimes over enthusiastically, without taking any pills, even Valerian. Bloomin' marvellous!

Health!

I have believed for a while that the main reason I not only caught more colds than anyone else, but suffered more when I got them, was more to do with the anxiety disorder than anything else. After all, I eat well, and walk a lot, so there wasn't a lot of improvement to be made there. But anxiety lowers the immune system, and when you don't sleep properly, your body doesn't have a chance to rebuild or build up its defences. The consequence: not a very good sick leave record.

But, despite it being the months of October-February, I've barely had a sniffle since I've been on these pills. For example, I spent Tuesday night frozen to the bone on a housing estate in Milton Keynes, and several hours on a train in close company with my boss, who had a horrible cold. This I duly contracted, and spent Thursday feeling exhausted. The cold emerged properly yesterday. I say properly, I mean I was a bit snotty. Today, I'm fine! Fantastic!

Warm Feet!

Bit of an odd one this. I have traditionally suffered from incredibly cold feet. As in, ones that turn white, nay blue, at the slightest hint of a frost, and often need to be rubbed vigorously back into life. Happily, this has also cleared up now.

Biorhythms!

Since taking escitalopram, even before I got actual jobs, I developed an awareness of the rhythms of the working week. I.e. bit slow on Monday, more energetic on Tuesday and Wednesday, bit knackered by Thursday, and can't be arsed by Friday. I can honestly say I've never experienced this before. (I wasn't just sitting around watching Jeremy, by the way, I was renovating a house). Anxiety completely dictates the amount of energy (via adrenaline) or lethargy (via over-expenditure of adrenaline) you have at any one time. It fluctuates according to its own rules. And it can't last until the weekend without a recuperative break, making full time work very difficult indeed.

Obviously, my moods have stabilised a great deal as well. Basically, I feel like a normal person. But still myself, which is good. I thought the two were mutually exclusive. I know a some people with mental health issues like to think the two things, self as seen through the disorder, and normality, are mutually exclusive, and I was beginning to wonder if they were right.

There have been some draw backs to taking medication, of course. My sex life is functioning at 50% capacity, but it's still functioning, which is a start. I am a bit dopier, because I no longer have an OCD-like grip on the details of life. But no more dopey than other people. And I get sweaty legs at night. Not just a bit damp, dripping. Excess sweating is a side effect of escitalopram, but for some reason it only effects my legs, and only at night. It's probably connected to why I no longer have insanely cold feet. Not very pretty, but I'll live.

I was only supposed to be on escitalopram for 6 months, but there's no way I'm going to limit my experience of stability to that short a period, considering I've spent all my teenage and adult life with this condition. The parts of my self that were being drowned out by the chemicals currently being selectively suppressed rather like the quiet up there. And now that I've been reintroduced by that delightful modern convention - the commute - there will be plenty of space for contemplation and, hopefully, blogging.

I did start another blog nearly a year ago when I wasn't on medication. I hate reading things back anyway, who doesn't? But having found it again, it seems particularly frantic and annoying. It'll be interesting to see how this turns out, and how the two compare.