Anxiety, Depression and all those horrid things

Well, it's been a while since I wrote on my blog, but you know the pattern...when I go through a rough patch, and start to come out the other side, I tend to need to write it all down. I think that I made the decision yesterday at some stage that I was ready to write, and I've been really emotional today in the lead up to starting... so here goes.

So a little note to anyone reading my blog for the first time. I started blogging a few years ago when I was going through a huge battle with my eating disorder, who I refer to as ED. He's been with me since I was a teenager, and has made unexpected appearances throughout my life.. sometimes for years at a time, sometimes just sporadically, but always in my mind trying to tempt me to stop loving myself. Go and have a little read of my earlier blogs if you're interested in that long battle. But for now, i'm here to vent about the last few months with my current battle with anxiety.

So, for the last 5 and half years, I've been battling with the disease with no name. Or, as we refer to it in our house 'Bum'. I developed an abscess on my bum in 2013, which turned septic and tried to kill me. That drama over with, I got on with life. In 2014 I felt something strange going on in my bum again, so immediately went to my GP, got referred to a gastric/colon surgeon, and got diagnosed with a fistula. A fistula is an abnormal tunnel that connects from an organ or internal part of the body to the outside surface of the body with a continuous infected pus emanating from it. Mine was connecting from my anal passage to the top of the abscess scar. Blah, blah, blah..... 9 operations later, partial bowel incontinence, 4 years in and out of hospital, constantly recovering from an operation, missing out on lots and effecting my daughter's mental health, I thought I was over it.

Last year, I went back to my surgeon and told him of my latest symptoms, and after a series of very unpleasant tests, most of which involved fingers, cameras and tubes up my bum, a Defecating Proctogram (A very invasive scan, whereby you drink a horrible paint like substance, then have a thick porridge stuffed up your bum, then get scanned whilst pooing it out - very undignified), and many MRIs, I was diagnosed with a Large Rectocele, probably developed from my labour with Amelie and got progressively worse with all of the other surgeries i'd had. In layman terms, my bowel had prolapsed onto my vaginal passage and was one of the largest my surgeon had seen. I was in so much pain in the lead up to the surgery, my pooing life was hell and Steve and I had stopped having sex as it was too painful for me. Since surgery, we're back in track and it's better than ever (designer vagina - hell yes)
I underwent Biofeedback therapy to try to 'physio' it back to normal , only to admit defeat and agree to the major surgery to fix it. Luckily we had decided not to have anymore kids, as if I was to try to grow another child, it would rip my insides apart.
The surgery consisted of going in through my bum passage, rebuilding my whole pelvic floor, then fixing the rectocele. I also had lots of internal and external haemorrhoids, which I was advised to have removed too. Fucking OUTCH!!!!

As you can imagine, the recovery for this type of surgery is long and painful. But I wasn't just recovering from this operation. All of the scar tissue and nerve endings from my previous 10 operations had been reignited, and I was in bits. I was on lots of pain relief, some of which I still have to take, but i'll go into that in a minute.

Anyway, I eventually started to recover just in time to have a lovely Christmas with my family.  I went back to work, and got back on with my life. I think that I pushed myself to just be better coz I just wanted to get back to normal, I wanted to be better. But I think that I pushed myself too far.

Between Christmas and September, I got a gastric bug 5 times. Yep, 5 times. And on the last episode, I ended up in A&E (and not for the first time). I also developed Sinusitis, which lasted 5 horrible weeks, I was also getting awful pains in my abdomen. I was miserable. All whilst this was happening, I was suffering major pains in my original scar... the only way that I can describe them, is like a headache in my bum, but bad enough that I was having to take Cocodamol quite regularly. I also started to see a recurrence in my symptoms from the rectocele, and faecal incontinence was starting to become more and more regular. I was trying to go on as normal, going to work but I was literally getting more and more caught up in the dark cloud. I didn't realise how dark I had become until my boss called me into her office, and I had a huge breakdown...whereby she cuddled me whilst I sobbed and told her everything. She was so good and told me to get back to the doctors and get myself looked at.

It was around this time that my fave cousin Suzy offered me some advice (we share the same bum doctor as she has gastro/bowel problems herself), and I also broke down on her. After crying in her embrace for about 10 minutes, she told me to man up and get back to our brilliant surgeon.

I booked in with my surgeon, underwent more tests, more fingers up the bum, more prodding and blood tests, an MRI that lasted 75 minutes, and a world of worry on my shoulders that it was starting again.
My GP put me back onto Anti depressants and signed me off work. Work have been amazing support and I honestly don't know what I would have done if they hadn't been.

So, my depression that crops up every now and then had whacked me at full speed, in what feels like overnight. Depression is such a dark place, and when I get into the cloud, I stop communicating. If I open up and talk about it, it means it's actually happening. I don't mean to stop communicating, I just close up. Steve became very low too as he didn't know what to do with me, he felt really alone, and as a result, the Hirst Household became a sad place. Amelie obviously got effected by this, and her anxiety (or as she refers to him - Sir Spider) was back in full force. Kid's anxiety comes in the form of total irrational fear of being left alone, asking for reassurance for everything, constantly asking questions and needing to know exact details about everything, as well as the fact that she wouldn't leave my side, every noise she'd jump, and she became completely irrational about everything.
This only makes me feel worse, as I know that her anxiety was kicked off because of my poxy health...again. She's only ever known me to be in and out of hospital, and sick in one way of another, and just when we 'thought' we'd got over it, it felt like it was all starting again. My guilt for how I make Steve and Amelie feel is immense, and although I know I can't help my health, I just feel so crap about it.
Steve is just the most amazing husband in the world and really helps me with everything. I know that I've said it loads in previous blogs, but he's just amazing.

I started to get results back and luckily my rectocele hasn't returned, I had just gone back to old habits of using my bum (most people don't have to think about how they poo... unfortunately I do... I have to use a certain method to empty my bowels fully and I will do for the rest of my life). The pains i'm getting there are down to the stress of thinking it was all broken again, and the surgeon said it's likely that when I suffer stress, i'll get pain there, much like people get a tooth ache or headache when they're stressed.
I do however a condition called Adenomysis (it's a type of endometriosis, but in the outer part of the womb) which is what is causing the pains in my abdomen. I could go and see a gynaecologist to have this seen to, but the only cure is hysterectomy... which let's face it, I don't think I need that right now... so we'll leave that on the back burner until when and if it starts to effect my life. Fingers crossed I don't need to address this anytime soon.

As we started to get good news, Amelie's anxiety started to calm down, and we have had to put an awful lot of work back into making sure she's ok. Thank God kids are so resilient. She's bounced right back and is back to her happy go lucky self after reminding her of the tools she needs to use to calm herself down.

My anxiety is starting to wain, but let me tell you, it's been out of control for the last month or so. I wake up feeling nervous, have moments of thinking that my heart is going to beat out of my chest, feel completely normal one moment and hyperventilating the next. Unless you've experienced anxiety yourself, it's hard for you understand this feeling. I can't control it and it comes out of nowhere. And my brain is moosh. Like seriously moosh. I forget everything, so have to write everything down. I can't go weekly food shopping without a full list of everything (including things that I buy on a weekly basis), coz I just can't focus. I end up standing in the supermarket with tears running down my cheeks coz I just don't know what I need to buy.
My list making is out of control at the moment. I have a list for everything usually, but seriously, I've got a list to remind  me to make another list at the moment.
And I've started this weird new habit. I am gurning in my mouth. Constantly swallowing, and licking the roof of my mouth. By the end of the day, my tongue feels really weird and swollen, and i'm drinking about 4 litres of water/juice a day to lubricate my mouth. People with anxiety tend to have a weird thing they do. Amelie does a weird thing with her eyes where she screws her face up and squeezes her eye tight shut. I don't know why we do this.

Anyway, my dark cloud is starting to lift, with the help of Fluoxatine (Prozac), mindfulness, meditating, time off work and the extra time I've had with my nearest and dearest to cuddle the cloud right out of me.
I honestly feel like my physical health has been so damaged over the last few years that my mental health hasn't had time to catch up. When you've had an illness that just doesn't go away, every symptom is a recurrence, you constantly assess every type of symptom, and always think the worst.
And in some ways, mental health is a lot harder to heal, coz you have to do the serious work yourself. And that's what I've been doing. And slowly, i'm getting there.

I've just re-read what I've written and cried my eyes out. The last 2 months have been really crappy, and re-living it in memories makes me feel so upset. How low I got. The sleepless nights where I'd mindlessly binge watch series on Netflix, the days of wanting to just be alone and craving silence so that I could process the random thoughts in my overactive mind, and the horrible effects of going back onto anti-depressants. But I'm getting there and i'm stating to enjoy the Christmas season, and I look forward to a time when I feel completely normal again.

Thank you for reading my randomness. As always, I write how I talk. A bit cockney, a bit sophisticated, and very honest.

Merry Christmas you lovely lot!!