Being heard

Forgive me, it is far to long since my last confession, sorry I mean blog!

Whistle stop tour - Easter, horrible lows, week off on leave, 4 weeks off on sick, June back in action and lots of catch up, in just a few days go to states on minister exchange, with minister from North Carolina coming here in my place. The exchange is for 6 weeks - July and half of August. 

Meanwhile ten days ago I had a return visit to the psychiatry dept. I didn't have great expectations after my last appt at the start of April. Then the junior psychiatrist I was assigned just dismissed aspects of my mood diary that I considered important, and only upped the dose of an antidepressant that I didn't think then, or now, has any impact on me.  She had told me that she would be moving onto another role in her specialist training and that the next time I would see another junior.  

And so I did, but this one was somebody who considered me as a person who knows something about my own experiences and moods. He listened fully, asked the relevant questions, and then came up with a plan.  I have formally been given a tentative diagnosis of Bipolar 2, and a plan for introducing a mod stabiliser. The plan is not to treat the lows or even the highs when they arrive, but to treat the swing between the two and so in time to avoid both.

So how do I feel - relieved, grateful to have been listened to, positive about a new treatment regime that offers something different to what is clearly not working.  Validated that my insight when reading about this last Oct and recognising myself in it is acknowledged by someone whose view is recognised.

The path ahead is not any more certain, but at least someone has a map showing a variety of routes to try and willing to help me work out one that finds a balance between the easiest to travel and the on with the best views of life.  But that is all to come...

Suicide and the church

Today was sent the link to  this blog which asks for prayer for pastors/ministers/ revs etc reminding us and others of our own humanity and frailty.  I decided to google for the story that had prompted it.  A story of a North Carolina pastor's suicide - some of the links were plain news reports whilst others like this one have a comments thread that both saddens and appals me.

This was a big church setup with multiple pastors, the dead man being the senior. It came as a shock to everyone but a scan through the comments remind why it would have been hard for him within a certain theological culture to admit to struggles.  I am sure a diagnosis of cancer would have had sympathy and others covering his work whilst off sick - but despair that can reach suicidal levels is not as 'safe' to admit to.

I am grateful to be in the place I am, with those who care and recognise my problems as illness not a sign of faithlessness or that I am hellbound. But reminded how important it is for the churches to talk about mental health, to deal with it as an issue.

I will be spending the summer in North Carolina - maybe I will have something to give to debate there, or I maybe with those who already get it, American church life is varied not always fitting the images we sometimes get.

An Easter journey - no sudden joy

It's Good Friday, well so my diary tells me. I have felt nothing in the Holy Week journey, well nothing holy and religious anyway. I have felt low, hiding away from the world, yet needing to not be totally alone - so busy on forums of people who understand.

What I do feel is like the old joke of someone being woken up to go to school and saying they don't want to - only to be told the have to, they are the teacher!  Yes I am the one who is supposed to stand up the front and lead others but have no sense of caring or meaning.

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Well now it is the day after the empty tomb, and I preached on the confusion of the disciples and the loss of their hopes with the crucifixion, and deliberately chose the original ending of Mark's gospel which stopped with the women, finding the tomb empty and an angel telling them 'he is risen',  flee telling no-one. A realistic first response I think, even if later they did say something, we humans don't like ending a story like that though and a new ending to the gospel added early on, with Jesus appearing and telling them to go make disciples etc.

It was not a straightforward Sunday's here and he's alive, so that's ok then - all the trauma and stress of the previous week is forgotten and all is wonderful.  Don't get me wrong, it is full of hope and new life, but it took the people around Jesus time to get their heads around, so its ok not to feel joyful on Easter Day itself - we are all on journeys.

Thanks Simon M for pointing me to this from a vicar not far away -

'But Easter is NOT a 'happy ending'. Jesus still has the scars of crucifixion, still remembers the betrayal and denial, the torture and the agonising death. Everything has changed, even when it appears to be the same. He is back with his friends and they still love each other, but there is a space in their loving that will forever be a scar; a beautiful scar that speaks of love, but a scar nonetheless. Even though Mary has her Jesus back after the agony of losing him, she can't hold onto him forever. Even though Peter is given the chance to put things right after denying him, he will spend the rest of his life making sure he never lets him down again.

It's no more of a happy ending than any story of a marriage begun again after infidelity, or the painful new life after bereavement.  But in this story that has come to be called The Easter Story, is a great truth; that it is only when we become lost that we can be found, when we know real fear that we are truly brave and when our hearts have been broken, that we can really love.

When the story of Easter meets our own stories, nothing is ever the same again, but we carry on living; wounded but whole, lost but found, broken-hearted but lovers.'

Trigger points

It was nothing much, my poorly worded email prompted a stroppy response from a stressed person. But despite my gracious (I hope) reply the effect on me was huge.   First was batting away the tears, then came the anger, and boy did that come.  The long drive passed quickly though as the emotions pulsed through my whole body.

Of course the depth of emotion was nothing to do with the minor matter that triggered it, it was like digging it the garden and hitting a huge oil geyser that shoots up to the skies.  It was tapping into some old wounds that have been stirred up by looking back to a difficult time a few years ago. Anger that had no outlet to those who had caused the wounds, so it bubbles up against those I can react to.

Realising the roots of the big emotions I felt anger at myself for still having that vulnerability, yet does that mark my humanity? That I am still capable of caring enough to hurt. Sunday was Mothering Sunday - a tricky day to preach, either we get over sentimental and risk ignoring those for whom it is a difficult day, or brush over and dodge the topic.  I spoke on the 1 Cor 13 passage about love  - an image of perfect love. Then I talked about how we mess up our attempts of love, and others mess up in loving us before offering my own version -

'Love is messy, love is raw, it does not come with a guide book, it does not control. It is vulnerable, it is tough, it keeps no record of ‘the answers’ because they change with every person. It holds safe and it lets go. It always hurts, it always struggles, but mostly love simply is.'

Life is messy when vulnerable to triggers, and especially when it overlaps and not all that person's fault, but I would rather risk hurt to know love and all the messiness of human relationships than let the hurts make me shut myself away from it all.

Identity and dis-ease - part 1

Been a while since I last wrote - my mind being on some unbloggable matters in the meantime.  Now then where was I? 

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I often get what others consider to be odd trains of thought – although to me they are fascinating insights to life!  One of these that came when I was learning Welsh has been particularly relevant to my recent thoughts.

The grammatical construction in Welsh for certain illnesses is ‘there is a cold on me’.  It struck me as feeling less permanent than ‘I have a cold’ in English merely something that is on me but we can brush off again. Yes it is just grammar not a mindset, your car is ‘with you’ rather than something you ‘have’, but it set off a pattern of thought about how we think about illnesses.

Those thoughts are being chewed over again now. There can be 3 types of health issues we face –

1. Accidents – breaks, tears, etc  things that have happened to us and often can be fixed with a bit of time, the broken leg, the bruising.
2.  Illnesses that come ‘on us’ – they are not part of us, but something we fight to get rid of, to remove from our bodies and lives.
3.  Dis-ease that is part of us – plumbed or wired in they are somehow integral to us, we live with them as a permanent thing, maybe all our life or the rest of our life.

The tree has embraced the fence as part of  itself...

Okay there may be other types, but my point is that for 1 and 2, even when the situation is incredibly serious, to the extent of life threatening, it is a situation that is to be fixed, challenged and fought.  When it is a part of who you are like 3 then it is a more complicated relationship – what does that mean to who I am?

This experience includes a wide range of situations from those whose lives revolve around the dis-ease or impairment to people who are impacted in a much lesser way. It covers what is very obvious to onlookers and things unseen.

How do I reconcile that that which is at the same time a problem to be addressed, managed, treated etc is at the same time part of me, to the extent that it has shaped and formed who I am, my personality, relationships and view of the world? 

I hope to reflect on all this in future blogs around my sense of self in relation to depression and possible bipolar aspects to my personality.  

In the psychiatrist's chair

So what would it be like, at the mental health centre, for an appointment with a psychiatrist?  Well standard NHS waiting room and then into a room with a desk for her to use writing notes and a few chairs.

It shows the stigma that mental health has in that in every physical medical speciality being referred to the specialist, a consultant and their team, is seen as a positive step forward in getting advanced focussed treatment. A referral to Ear Nose & Throat, or to the Oncologist or....   but try saying in general conversation that you are off to the Psychiatry Dept.   I have tried to be open about mental health in my life and did tell friends I was due to see a psychiatrist - but then found myself referring just to a hospital appt, or that GP had sent me to a specialist.

I was counting down and hopeful - since the autumn and before my referral I came across information on Bipolar 2 where the highs are not as high but the rest is much the same as Bipolar 1. The definition was a close fit and explained various points in my life, including at college before my grand crash down.  I have been on a peer support web forum and listening to others to see if it still felt a fit, it would explain why the anti-depressants have not had the level of effect hoped for over these years.

Ready for the day, with notes of my history of depressed times over the years, a mood diary from Jan 1st with the chart numbers put on a pretty graph, and hopeful.  It has been a long hard winter of depression, I would have gone to the GP to plead for something else, or a change in dose or... but no point when the psych appt on the doorstep - they will be able to offer something, a new approach, new hope.....

And?

A sensible, take it slowly, possibly bipolar stuff going on, too soon for labels, you are coping with life so no meds yet, carry on as before - come back in 6 weeks with more mood diary.  Disappointed.  Although, whether placebo effect of hope anticipated or the pendulum due to swing, I had headed up in mood a day or so before and that is still with me - so will cope for six weeks. Now where did I put that diary and mood chart?

Gabi writes....

Hi Gabi here,

Just borrowing the laptop whilst she is hiding under the duvet, again.  She has been doing a lot of that lately - I don't think she likes outdoors much this time of year and it is very hard to get her out for a walk in the rain.

I try not to be too much bother, and I don't nag all the time, but I do remind her its dinner time, and she has done cooking with lots of pans a couple of times, though often its just waiting for the ping beep box.

And it may take until nearly dark some days but I do get her out for a walk - I just keep going back and questioning with my head on one side and an encouraging look in my eyes, wagging my tail to show it would be fun.

I know a walk does her good because when we get back she usually stays out of bed doing things for a while, even all evening sometimes. But she doesn't smile, only the fake ones when she hugs me and scratches behind my ears - pretending its all okay.

I do miss my happy miss, hope she's back soon.

Bye for now,

Gabi