Craig1974
11-14-2009, 11:59 AM
Hi all,
My name is Craig, and I'm from Leamington Spa in the UK. I apologise for the War & Peace that is about to follow, but if you have chance to read through this, I really would value opinions, and any practical tips to help me with what I'm experiencing. Besides which getting my thoughts down really helps me make sense of all the chaos and jumble! :)
I have experienced anxiety problems and obsessions with my health in the past. Previously, these had been short lived "episodes", usually triggered by stressful events, and treated effectively with Seroxat (Paroxetine). Before I move on, I am aware that this drug has had a bad press in reecent years, but I can honestly say that it has worked well for me. The only side effects I have ever experienced are mild nausea if I have taken them on an empty stomach, and withdrawal related dizziness if I have forgotten to take them for a day or two.
After a period of many years good mental and physical health, things took a sudden nose dive about 18 months ago.
This seemed to coincide with the death of my grandmother, who had all of her life stayed mentally sharp, and reasonally physically well considering her age (she was well into her 90's when she passed away). I witnessed a very quick deterioration in her physical and mental health before she passed away, which I found very upsetting.
At the same time, my father had been battling serious illness. He had been suffering from multiple sclerosis since his 40's, but more recently had survived an advanced stage bowel cancer, but making a startling recovery that exceeded any expectation of the consultants, especially as we had later been told that we had nearly lost him twice during a gruely time on the operating table. Ironically, and unrelated complication following a hip replacement operation, first led to him becoming wheel chair bound, then getting septicemia (which nearly killed him) leading to the amputation of one of his legs, and then sadly his untimely death aged 68 this year.
My father and I had a turbulent relationship during my "terrible teens" which I feel a lot of guilt about, and I often wish I had treated him better. However, I am pleased to say that our relationship vastly improved over time, and I supported him as best I could during his illness, and am grateful for the time we had together, and for having the opportunity to have told him how much I really cared about him. My Dad was an inspiring man, having suffered so much in his life, and always battling on. Seeing his deterioration due to something that could have been avoided, after surivivng so much was an awful awful tragedy, and one that I still have difficulty in reconciling.
It didn't help that I was having my own mental health problems thoughout this, and I felt ashamed that I was obsessing about my own non existent health problems whilst my father was battling with serious and very real problems. I even remember feeling that I could not visit him, because it would make me feel worse. Me?!? I was thinking about me, when he was going through all this???
Truth be told, I was in a bad way. I would become obsessed with illnesses that I was particularly scared of. As soon the doctors ruled one out, I became fixated with something else. You would not believe the number of various tests I had for things that are actual medical rarities. And I even began to manifest symptoms of these things. Looking back, it seems absurd. The lengths my doctors would go to assure me of my good physical health, really going beyond the call of duty, but I would not be told. It was like I was looking for something to be wrong with me - there had to be.
Eventually, I managed to convince myself of my physical health (note - I had to convince myself, because I didn't believe the doctors). Low and behold the physical symptoms disappeared. But strangely enough, this is when things really went wrong.
Through all my anxiety and worry, I wasn't sleeping. At all. Convinced of my physical health, but still convinced something was wrong somehow, I concluded that I was mentally ill. Seriously mentally ill, and needed to be locked up. I could not think straight and in a waking nightmare.
I did my best to help myself, and sought out some counselling. I don't think the counsellor quite appreciated my state of mind. Without wanting to self diagnose further, I realise now that I was probably in a psychotic state.
At every step, I seemed to be fighting the counsellor's advice. When told that I should rationalise my negative thoughts (which is very very good advice) I found that after a few days of relief, nonsensical things would pop into my head - things that I couldn't possibly rationalise.
This just frightened me even more, and I felt that my mind had gone completely. I tried to explain this to my counsellor, who, despite knowing the full background to all this, and knowing how distressed I was, told me: "You've forgotten how to think properly".
This must have been the single worst thing she could have possibly said to me. Some weeks later, she qualified it with "I meant you've forgotten how to think positively". Thanks, but too late. That became imprinted in my brain. This is probably going to sound ridiculous, but I then spent the next 6 months trying to remember how to think properly!!
Would I have thought like that before? Would I have thought this, would I have thought that. All the time convinced that whatever I was thinking was wrong.
Suffice to say that I complete lost confidence in my own mind. Something I am still suffering from today.
After a while, things settled down a bit. I stopped seeing the counsellor, as I felt this had done more damage than good. I started to get back into my work again. I would like to note that I never had any extended period off work, maybe a few days here and there through all this, and I am really really glad I did this. I think if I had given up on work I would have lost grip of the last anchor to my sanity.
What I really need advice on is how I feel now. When I look back, I have to recognise the improvement. I was pretty incapacitated, but now I'm functioning fairly well. I managed to cling on to my sense of humour through all this, and I have found that making jokes about it with my friends and family actually helps to neutralise all the negativity.
But I am not the person I used to be before all this. The world often seems very strange to me, unatural. It often feels like I am looking through someone else's eyes, and like there is a delay or dampening in my physical senses. I still find myself monitoring what and how I am thinking.
I sometimes feel on the verge of being able to just step out of it, and become myself again. But strangely, the thought of this is frightening, and it actually turns my stomach and creates a moment of panic and I quickly go back into my shell.
I feel that I have lost my sense of identity, of being "me". I have tried so many ways of telling myself everything is OK, but it just doesn't seem to even register. It's like a mental or emotional barrier. having looked into this, the best definition I can find for what I am experiencing is "depersonalisation".
I do notice that at times the barrier drops, like when I'm at work or engaging with friends. But then I become conscious of that and the barriers come down again. But the fact that the barriers have dropped does give me hope - that perhaps all I need is time.
One of the most upsetting aspects if the loss of connection to my family - I feel numb towards them. From a psychological stand point, I have considered whether this is an emotional defence mechanism. Having seen my Dad and Nan suffer, am I emotionally distancing myself from my loved ones to avoid my own suffering should something bad happen to them? Sounds likely to me.
But this is the bit that I really don't get. It seems pretty clear to me that I have been traumatised by past events. I understand this, and can trace the path between then and now with complete accuity. So how is it that if I understand what is going on, I'm feeling like I am? Why do I feel like I'm doing battle against something that isn't there?
I just want to reconnect to life again, and start enjoying. I'm bored of the analysis, and want to feel something again.
I take comfort in the fact that other people experience these things, and that I'm not alone in this. But I just want to beat it. If I have taken anything from my Dad its "Don't Give Up".
If anyone has any advice, I would truly appreciate. Thanks for listening & be well :D
My name is Craig, and I'm from Leamington Spa in the UK. I apologise for the War & Peace that is about to follow, but if you have chance to read through this, I really would value opinions, and any practical tips to help me with what I'm experiencing. Besides which getting my thoughts down really helps me make sense of all the chaos and jumble! :)
I have experienced anxiety problems and obsessions with my health in the past. Previously, these had been short lived "episodes", usually triggered by stressful events, and treated effectively with Seroxat (Paroxetine). Before I move on, I am aware that this drug has had a bad press in reecent years, but I can honestly say that it has worked well for me. The only side effects I have ever experienced are mild nausea if I have taken them on an empty stomach, and withdrawal related dizziness if I have forgotten to take them for a day or two.
After a period of many years good mental and physical health, things took a sudden nose dive about 18 months ago.
This seemed to coincide with the death of my grandmother, who had all of her life stayed mentally sharp, and reasonally physically well considering her age (she was well into her 90's when she passed away). I witnessed a very quick deterioration in her physical and mental health before she passed away, which I found very upsetting.
At the same time, my father had been battling serious illness. He had been suffering from multiple sclerosis since his 40's, but more recently had survived an advanced stage bowel cancer, but making a startling recovery that exceeded any expectation of the consultants, especially as we had later been told that we had nearly lost him twice during a gruely time on the operating table. Ironically, and unrelated complication following a hip replacement operation, first led to him becoming wheel chair bound, then getting septicemia (which nearly killed him) leading to the amputation of one of his legs, and then sadly his untimely death aged 68 this year.
My father and I had a turbulent relationship during my "terrible teens" which I feel a lot of guilt about, and I often wish I had treated him better. However, I am pleased to say that our relationship vastly improved over time, and I supported him as best I could during his illness, and am grateful for the time we had together, and for having the opportunity to have told him how much I really cared about him. My Dad was an inspiring man, having suffered so much in his life, and always battling on. Seeing his deterioration due to something that could have been avoided, after surivivng so much was an awful awful tragedy, and one that I still have difficulty in reconciling.
It didn't help that I was having my own mental health problems thoughout this, and I felt ashamed that I was obsessing about my own non existent health problems whilst my father was battling with serious and very real problems. I even remember feeling that I could not visit him, because it would make me feel worse. Me?!? I was thinking about me, when he was going through all this???
Truth be told, I was in a bad way. I would become obsessed with illnesses that I was particularly scared of. As soon the doctors ruled one out, I became fixated with something else. You would not believe the number of various tests I had for things that are actual medical rarities. And I even began to manifest symptoms of these things. Looking back, it seems absurd. The lengths my doctors would go to assure me of my good physical health, really going beyond the call of duty, but I would not be told. It was like I was looking for something to be wrong with me - there had to be.
Eventually, I managed to convince myself of my physical health (note - I had to convince myself, because I didn't believe the doctors). Low and behold the physical symptoms disappeared. But strangely enough, this is when things really went wrong.
Through all my anxiety and worry, I wasn't sleeping. At all. Convinced of my physical health, but still convinced something was wrong somehow, I concluded that I was mentally ill. Seriously mentally ill, and needed to be locked up. I could not think straight and in a waking nightmare.
I did my best to help myself, and sought out some counselling. I don't think the counsellor quite appreciated my state of mind. Without wanting to self diagnose further, I realise now that I was probably in a psychotic state.
At every step, I seemed to be fighting the counsellor's advice. When told that I should rationalise my negative thoughts (which is very very good advice) I found that after a few days of relief, nonsensical things would pop into my head - things that I couldn't possibly rationalise.
This just frightened me even more, and I felt that my mind had gone completely. I tried to explain this to my counsellor, who, despite knowing the full background to all this, and knowing how distressed I was, told me: "You've forgotten how to think properly".
This must have been the single worst thing she could have possibly said to me. Some weeks later, she qualified it with "I meant you've forgotten how to think positively". Thanks, but too late. That became imprinted in my brain. This is probably going to sound ridiculous, but I then spent the next 6 months trying to remember how to think properly!!
Would I have thought like that before? Would I have thought this, would I have thought that. All the time convinced that whatever I was thinking was wrong.
Suffice to say that I complete lost confidence in my own mind. Something I am still suffering from today.
After a while, things settled down a bit. I stopped seeing the counsellor, as I felt this had done more damage than good. I started to get back into my work again. I would like to note that I never had any extended period off work, maybe a few days here and there through all this, and I am really really glad I did this. I think if I had given up on work I would have lost grip of the last anchor to my sanity.
What I really need advice on is how I feel now. When I look back, I have to recognise the improvement. I was pretty incapacitated, but now I'm functioning fairly well. I managed to cling on to my sense of humour through all this, and I have found that making jokes about it with my friends and family actually helps to neutralise all the negativity.
But I am not the person I used to be before all this. The world often seems very strange to me, unatural. It often feels like I am looking through someone else's eyes, and like there is a delay or dampening in my physical senses. I still find myself monitoring what and how I am thinking.
I sometimes feel on the verge of being able to just step out of it, and become myself again. But strangely, the thought of this is frightening, and it actually turns my stomach and creates a moment of panic and I quickly go back into my shell.
I feel that I have lost my sense of identity, of being "me". I have tried so many ways of telling myself everything is OK, but it just doesn't seem to even register. It's like a mental or emotional barrier. having looked into this, the best definition I can find for what I am experiencing is "depersonalisation".
I do notice that at times the barrier drops, like when I'm at work or engaging with friends. But then I become conscious of that and the barriers come down again. But the fact that the barriers have dropped does give me hope - that perhaps all I need is time.
One of the most upsetting aspects if the loss of connection to my family - I feel numb towards them. From a psychological stand point, I have considered whether this is an emotional defence mechanism. Having seen my Dad and Nan suffer, am I emotionally distancing myself from my loved ones to avoid my own suffering should something bad happen to them? Sounds likely to me.
But this is the bit that I really don't get. It seems pretty clear to me that I have been traumatised by past events. I understand this, and can trace the path between then and now with complete accuity. So how is it that if I understand what is going on, I'm feeling like I am? Why do I feel like I'm doing battle against something that isn't there?
I just want to reconnect to life again, and start enjoying. I'm bored of the analysis, and want to feel something again.
I take comfort in the fact that other people experience these things, and that I'm not alone in this. But I just want to beat it. If I have taken anything from my Dad its "Don't Give Up".
If anyone has any advice, I would truly appreciate. Thanks for listening & be well :D