Medical school, Medicine, Mental Health, Relationships

Why I Stopped Writing

For the few followers of my blog, all of whom I am incredibly grateful for – you may have noticed that I stopped writing for almost 3 months. You may also be wondering why. When I started this blog, I aimed to write something at least every week, and I think I did pretty well (apart from the time I was severely unwell and overdosed). Writing has always been a great way for me to de-clutter my thoughts, rationalise my ideas and to release some emotion whilst attempting to help somebody out there. Before my blog, I wrote in my diary almost religiously from the age of about 10, and it did wonders to help me deal with a lot of things I was experiencing. But from time to time, I lose momentum and stop writing for months at a time.

The main reason I usually do that is because I want to do all I can to run away from my thoughts and feelings, rather than try to understand them. We’ve all probably experienced it – it’s when you have so much on your plate that even thinking about a problem, or facing an issue becomes too emotionally draining. Rather than feeling relieved, I start to feel extremely upset. So that turns me away from writing and I go into my “pretend-everything-is-fine” mode. There are pros and cons of this of course. On the one hand, I am able to give myself a false sense of security that everything is fine when it is in fact very far from fine. But on the other hand, pushing things to the back of your mind also causes it to build up slowly over time, until you eventually burst. That part isn’t really too fun.

Also, for the past few months, life happened – I had all my exams to do but with zero concentration and hypersomnia (excessive sleeping) as side effects of my medication; family troubles; financial struggles; friendship struggles; rejections from job interviews; yet another rejection from a romantic interest (I might tell you about these one day, should you be interested); my rejections of romantic interests in me (life is funny) – you name it. Everything happened at once. And obviously that meant my mental health was at an all time low again with my anxiety levels sky high and the return of suicidal thoughts. Wa-hey.

However, I can happily say that some of those things mentioned above have improved since. For example, I somehow managed to pass third year and am going into my fourth year of medical school in a few months’ time (yay!). Also, amongst the thousands of rejections, I did manage to find a short part-time job to give me a financial boost. And my anxiety levels are generally lower, though I’m still struggling with them immensely even now that most of the external factors are gone.

It has literally taken me 3 weeks to convert my thought of wanting to write again, to actually writing again, despite having plenty of time to do so. So you can imagine to what extent my motivation is lacking. I’ve also become very bad at remembering to take my medication which really messes me up because I keep switching from insomnia to hypersomnia and also gives me nightmares. My moods are also all over the place. It’s all a bit dishevelled really but I’m hoping that this will all change with a bit of positive thinking.

Here’s to mental health and writing.

 

Anxiety, Medical school, Mental Health, Sexual abuse, Stress

The Nightmares that Won’t Leave

For the past couple of years, I have been struggling with daily, vivid nightmares which have significantly reduced the quality of my life. Being a natural vivid dreamer, I am accustomed to seeing the odd nightmare once in a while, but I have been continuously battling my fears every night. For most people, nightmares are a thing of the past, something that they associate with childhood. Other people I’ve talked to tell me that when they do have the odd nightmare, it’s something like “falling down” from a height for example. That’s how it used to be for me, and life was a lot easier too that way.

Surprisingly enough, my nightmares have a lot of impact on my daily life. Especially because I remember every single one, and they are so life-like, that they could easily get confused for being memories instead. Some of my nightmares are situations that occur between myself and those close to me – ranging from an emotional and abusive argument to losing someone. Other nightmares involve really intense and frightening situations, for example watching a serial killer kill the people around me in the most disturbing ways (the images are very graphic and detailed in my head to add to the horrific gore) and me trying to escape being killed; I’ve dreamt several times of me being forced into marriages to unknown men by my parents; and just last night, I dreamt of being raped by two men who I didn’t know and being traumatised in the aftermath of the situation.

The thing is, I don’t really think about any of these things consciously during the day. Whilst they may be a reflection of my inner fears, to me they seem quite random. Almost every nightmare I have wakes me up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and I find it difficult to fall asleep again because I end up remaining traumatised right after.

Recently, I’ve found a coping mechanism which has been to sleep with my Mum. I never thought it would work, but my Mum insisted so I tried it out, and I think that just having the reassurance that I have someone with me when I’m sleeping helps me to recover from any dreams, and sometimes even prevents me from having my nightmares. I’ve also now been told that I talk in my sleep, and it is usually a reflection of whatever nightmare I’m having.

The reason why I feel these nightmares affect the quality of my life is not only because of the content of these nightmares, but also because of the poor quality of sleep I get. My sleep is usually very broken and I often actually get very little as I am unable to fall asleep again. This adds to my fatigue during the day and triggers my migraines. Low energy also negatively affects my depression which worsens and brings on the suicidal thoughts again.

I have tried various sleeping pills which are fabulous for making me sleep (despite making me incredibly drowsy the next day), but I still see the nightmares. My doctors have told me that the cause is most probably my high anxiety levels, and this is something I am to be talking about during my CBT sessions in future.

For now, it’s a relief knowing that my nightmares are only dreams after all. When they’re not real, what’s the worst that can happen?

Anxiety, Medical school, Medicine, Mental Health, Reality, Stigma, Stress

First impressions of CBT

A few months ago, I was referred by my GP to the IAPT service which provides talking therapy for patients suffering from depression, anxiety and severe sleeping disturbances (I suffer from all three unfortunately). After telephonic assessment in August, I was deemed suitable to receive Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) which is aimed at altering the way people think in order to prevent harmful behaviour or distressing physical symptoms. Yesterday was my first appointment, and to be honest, I was quite nervous about the experience, despite having had 8 counselling sessions at my university already. I was also quite cynical of CBT because of some negative feedback I’d heard from people, so it took quite a lot of motivation for me to give it a try. My main rationale for trying CBT was that I couldn’t get any worse than I was now, so there would be no harm in trying, and  even if there was the smallest possibility that my quality of life could improve and I could potentially stop my continual suicidal thoughts, it was worth a try.

Just to give you a bit of background, I was formally diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety in March this year. I also suffer from insomnia and regular nightmares which often wake me up in sweats. I was prescribed Sertraline in March – a form of SSRI anti-depressant – and even after six months on the maximum dose possible, my condition did not improve but worsened*. Recently, I have been started on a different type of antidepressant, an SNRI, called Venlafaxine, but it is too early days to know how efficient it has been. It is only understandable however that despite my efforts, and medication and counselling, I wasn’t getting better. So when I received a phone call last week to arrange an appointment, I was kind of relieved that there were still other things left for me to try.

It took me about an hour to find the right place yesterday for my CBT appointment. It was in the most inconspicuous location with poor accessibility and getting lost in the dark only made me more anxious. I don’t know if it was this hospital in particular or if this applies to all mental health hospitals, but it was really difficult to find (despite my usual poor navigation skills!). I suppose it may be intentional so that patients don’t feel embarrassed walking inside for fear of stigma from the general public who may see them walking in. Once I did go inside the building, I felt like I was inside one of the really old hospitals they show you in horror movies. I took a photo which you can see at the top of this post, but it was terrifying to walk inside. I could not see anyone around, the ‘reception’ was closed off with newspaper coverings all over the window, the lighting was eerily dim, the signboards were out-of-date and I was lost once again. After walking around for ages, often just going around in circles, I managed to find somebody in the hospital who was kind enough to direct me to the right place. However, I have to point out that more needs to be done to improve the aesthetics of mental health departments and hospitals, especially because the patients going in are already in a very anxious state of mind, and as research has shown, environments can influence heavily on the mental health of people. I feel that the poor state of mental health departments is a consequence of the severe lack of funding towards mental health by the government. I strongly feel that this MUST be addressed.

On the other hand, after meeting my therapist, I have to say that I was made to feel extremely comfortable. She had a spark in her which made me feel as if things could get better for me, and she reassured me that she would work through my problems with me throughout the forthcoming sessions. I found her to be extremely helpful and caring and I really do look forward to our sessions in the future. Yesterday was an assessment and summary of how things were going to work, and I will see her again for a formal session in 2 weeks’ time. Maybe things will change for the better, we just have to wait and see.

If you have any comments or suggestions, please feel free to leave a comment as I would love to hear them!

* Please note: Just because an anti-depressant did not work for one individual does not mean it will not work for another. Everyone is different and often it is a ‘trial and improvement’ process. My mother has been on low dose Sertraline for her depression and anxiety and it has worked wonders for her, whereas it has had little effect on me.