Monday, 17 September 2012

Not a Good Mood

I HAVE BEEN not in a good mood all weekend. Every time something stresses me (and doing anything at all, or even thinking of, or worse, trying to think out something in stages does my head in) ~~ I flip my lid. And if someone else happens to be there I start yelling at them.

Today I am trying to stay calm. My druggieworker is not in. Duty fobbed me off by saying my script was not printed, said I couldn't make an appointment to see my own worker tomorrow but instead should phone first thing and ask for one then. I am trying not to be blazingly annoyed about this. I'm kind of starting to feel bad about everything but I'm not that depressed. I can still put on a Great Big "I'm OK" Act. So that's good:... ¿isn't it?

This morning I ended up googling "depression". I mean: what am I possibly going to find of any use over the internet except that exceptionally irritating quoted-to-death list of DSM Diagnostic Criteria that are no help whatever to anyone who has been depressed for more than a few weeks. The depressive state very quickly begins to feel normal and the "sufferer" will start to believe that their low mood is a justifiable reaction to a life of failure and in no way an illness of any kind. Even if they have been depressed before. Or had previous bipolar episodes. When I was at the lowest I've ever been I remember claiming not to be suffering; and yet I felt so bad that even the memory of my thoughts and feelings that week (and it was only about a week) left me traumatized for months.

I gave up drinking for about four days(?)~ or so until yesterday, when I decided to test it with one can of strawberry cyder (4% ABV: 2 alcoholic units) and a one-pint can of Skol, which I found unopened on the trek back home (3% ABV: 1.7 alcoholic units). I felt nothing, partly because I was so averse to the taste of beer it took over an hour to sup it. I used to get a yen for cold beer on hot summer afternoons. But this hasn't happened for years. I detest the taste of alchol and don't like the feeling it gives me, which nowadays seems to be a fatigued and heavy-limbed state with mild drowsiness. No "high" of any kind. Getting a "high" from alcohol, which is a cocaine-like feeling I had never experienced until last year and nothing at all like feeling "drunk", when I was already manic, is most likely a warning that (hypo-)mania is crouched in hiding around a very close corner. Or that I'm (hypo-)manic already. A small amount of alcohol was enough to set this off, and it never gave me the craving for more, because twice the drink never makes me feel twice as good. Simple law of the jungle, that one. And another reason why I don't think my drinking, which began as a side-order to accompany heroin, has ever rendered me a true dipsomaniac. I'm not sure alcohol has ever intensified feelings of depression, but when I do feel depressed, drink usually seems to do very little. Or nothing at all. I don't like it. Don't need it. And want to live a life without it... Mint n Lime is much nicer. Except the shop has already run out because I've bought every single carton from their fridge. So I tried Lemon and Lime, which was right next to it. And it's absolutely gross: with the artificial citrus flavour you got in the cheap 1980s-version of granulated "lemon tea".

I wanted to get rid of the following paragraph but may as well keep it in. Hey maybe somebody, somewhere will get a really good laugh out of it.

Yesterday I nearly blew my top because the ridiculous voice over on a tellyprog called "Planet Earth Live: A Lion's Tale". It was patently NOT live and if you tried to film wild lions live you would probably get lots of shots of golden furry ears poking out above distant tufts of grass, so I'm thinking of writing a sarcastic letter to Points of View over that one. And the voice-over overdramatized everything: "hyenas are the NEIGHBOURS FROM HELL; if this hunt is not successful, mother and baby may STARVE TO DEATH" it's a bit like giving a running commentary on a person trying to catch a train saying ONE TRIP, ONE SLIP OFF THIS PLATFORM and a HIGH SPEED TRAIN may SLICE HIM IN HALF!!! Then I took issue over the phrase "mortal enemy". Because it is "too Latin" and I thought "deadly foe" sounded better. I just checked the etymology of my own expression and sure enough it is Anglo-Saxon. Yeah yeah yeah and I should probably get a life yeah yeah there is nothing else to write about except that I'm freezing cold too much of the time and I have no idea why (being on methadone might well have something to do with it.) I wish I could think something else to post but I can't, so I'm going now. Bye.

Well that's about all. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered posting today. Does anything at all that I say here mean anything to anyone? Help anyone? Amuse anyone? Even ring true to anyone? I'm not so sure it does. Well I've got to go. I said I would come down that mental unit again and that place is starting to piss me off. One nurse in particular, and it has to be the one who opens the locked door for me, has a towering attitude problem. The other day she said "If want to leave now please hurry up. I'm supposed to be doing a one to one and..." blah blah blah. I should have told her if she's doing one-to-one care on somebody she shouldn't be going near the door anyway. Perhaps another nurse should get off her great fat arse and leave that goldfish bowl of a nurses' station they like to hide out in. Avoiding doing anything that might fulfil the definition of "work". I think a lot of them choose mental nursing over physical because they think it's easier. But when your patients are mobile plus raving mad, nothing is ever easy. Except, as I say, hiding in the nurses' station, avoiding them...

I have a doctor's appointment first thing on Wednesday. Maybe I'll actually tell her how I really feel, instead of putting on my big "I'm fine" act. Not that there's anything she can do except propose changing the medication to olanzapine (Zyprexa) which I don't want. Particularly as the stuff is notorious for causing the unfortunate patient to balloon out with weight gain. She could try and get me an appointment with a shrink, but I doubt it. Last time I ended up in General Psychiatric Services I saw a new doctor every single time. Not even a proper psychiatrist, but a doctor-in-training only there to work off their compulsory stint in a psychiatric clinic so that when they do get out of that place they can turn their back and never work with mental patients again.

Illustrated: horrible granulated "lemon" tea; the DSM IV etc., books for psychiatrists quoted ad nauseum in websites designed for patients; Fizz strawberry cyder, a nonexistent nurses' station in a nonexistent hospital (this is supposed to be the nuthouse in the Bronx, New York, but somehow I doubt any mental unit anywhere looks quite that shiny and clean... an ad for would-be psychiatrists on the issue of street drugs. We used to have a notorious doctor in this area who loathed druggies and routinely discharged them from hospital and/or chucked them off his list. There is no question that he contributed to my friend's death by treating her so badly last time she was on his ward that she refused ever to return. Then was found dead, having overdosed on every bit of medication she could get her hands on...


Not at all in the mood for this, but what the hell...



Bev said...

I wish I detested alcohol to.Im drinking later in the night when Im tireder and drink less.We have a cold front and its great to have a good hair day here.And Im not wiping my face or powdering up as much.Kisses and hugs to you you big bucking studXoxoxox

Anonymous said...

I'm glad you posted today. I check regularly - and yea your words do help sometimes. Please don't ever doubt your ability to touch people with your blog.

Gledwood said...

Anon: I hope someone somewhere is touched. I felt uncomfortably numb today. When I wasn't pained.

Beverly: for some reason even when I drank heavily I didn't drink half as much by night as I did by day (especially in the morning)... up until recently, with the back end of the habit, I only got the yen for drink in the morning and even when it was poured out and waiting I just didn't want it in the evening or night... I cannot explain why. I know it sounds like denial to a lot of people, but I just do not tick the boxes of "chronic alcoholic" I never was in love with drink long enough or deeply enough... i dunno...

Bev said...

Thats a good thing Gledwood that you never was in love with drink.
My parents where both alcoholic.Im not blaming them but I did see them go from cranky to happy with it.
It does not make me happy or sad.It just helps me sleep and I drink lots of tea to get drudgeries done.It just quiets me down.
When I drink in the morning.Im doomed.I dont stop till I get sleepy and I usally dont eat.I get sick the next day to.Im spiteing myself when I drink in the day on an empty stomach and my stomach is not so good on its own.
Im going to listen to the song below.Enya is Irish right?I think she has an angelic voise but not sure.Im going to play it now.
You know.Thank you for putting up music on your posts that is a real nice touch and I appreciate that :-)

Bev said...

Yes Enya is the one with the angelic voice.
The music is nice and spaceous.I never heard it before.
Oh the porkshire pudding on the earlier post.I never had it but by the pix and description sounds delish!I had black pudding and I love Irish bacon.
What kind of pudding was Gordon Ramsey always talking about?Was it the porkshire you wrote about?Or Yorkshire?I dont know but it all looks good to me.
You know some thing weird.You know I often smell food smells that are not really there.
But I know one thing some body in my area makes great southern fried chicken.I know its not KFC.The smell drives me nuts with desire.Thank you for the big sloppy kiss.Heres a nother one and it is landing right on your sweet lips.Get it while its hot!Xoxoxo

bugerlugs63 said...

I was watching something the other night on TV like that (very over-dramatised) I can't remember what it was . . . But I enjoyed how you likened it to a commenytary of someone waiting for a train. It was very much like that.
I have a hamster on the loose, he ran across the bed last night. He right made me jump, but I didn't have the energy to get up and chase the blighter. I expect he'll hide all day and come out again tonight.
Often, I tell myself not to write a post, that it won't be worth reading . . . Then I think that's my "addict" trying to talk me into isolation, so I force myself to post, even if I haven't anything specific to say.
I always enjoy reading your Blog, whatever you write about.
Take care and enjoy your day x x

Gledwood said...

BUGERLUGS: "an addict alone is in bad company" ~~ NA

BEV: fuck it I don't know whether I like or loathe alcohol any more but I do know that I do not love it. The last few times I bought it, it ended up sitting in the glass going flat for hours.

I am turning myself into the Sirocco wind and blowing hot dry air all over you... and then you will sleep deep and dark and dreamlessly. Without the need for drink.

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