H is for habits.

After some recent conversations with friends, family and my professionals, I've decideo to work on developing and practising some health habits and work on habits in general. To this end, Ive installed a habit reminder and tracking app on my pod and started some paper based writing work. My electronic habit tracker has daily, weekly, and monthly habits to enter and keep track on how I'm doing at meeting my target, making "streaks" with the idea of not breaking my "streak" of behaviour that I want to turn into heanthy habits. So for my daily habits I've included things like my morning routine, checking in with my boss and David and Trav, working and making plans for the next day and my evening routine that I hope will help set me up better for the next day. Weekly I've put remaining in touch with my familt and work friends, planning for the next week and meeting with my employment psych, as well as blogging and reviewing my mood journal. Therapy, doctors and counselling are in for monthly, as well as trying to keep in better touch with Lauren and Isabella. So far it seems to be working pretty well, I've oeen able to build up some good practises for tracking and recording my health states and keeping in touch. Things were a bit thrown off by my grandad's death, put even with this disruption, I've still been going pretty well at keeping up with some habits that I think will be very good for me in the long run. Even the act of working out and reoording what kinds of things I want to become my healthy habits has felt really good, sort of breaking me out of a "stuck" feeling I've had of not doing well but not knowing how to get back on to the track I want to be on. It's been quite empowering and positive for me to think about what I want to do and keep doing and to develop better routines for the mornings, which had been a real bottle neck for me. It also seems to re-inforce an idea/reconception I've worked out about my mood and anxiety issues as something I need to, and indeed can, manage without it consuming me. I'm really proud and pleased about that. The next stage is to keep things up with my return to Perth and "normal" life next week. I feel positive about it put not pressuring myself to get it "right" the first or every time. That's a thought habit of mine that I'm working on getting free from. There are several others, though I'm a bit tired to write about just now.

G is for grandad.

My grandfather, on my dad's side, Jeffery Bebbington, left us for his last fishing trip last night. He's gone to be with his beloved wife, Kathleen. He hadn't been well for a while, though it was still a bit sudden and a shock. He was ready and at peace, and he'd told my dad that his Kath was waiting for him. I suspect that he'd never really thought that grandma was going to leave first, and he missed her terribly. It's such a trite thing, but it rings true just now, he's at peace. As my dad's friend said, where he's gone, the weather is always good and the fish are always biting. I think he'd like that.

Wisdom from B

I am not my depression. I am fun, generous, caring and intelligent. My depression makes me very sad and anxious. It doesn't change the fact that I am fun, generous, caring and intelligent. It just changes how I cope with and interact with the world. And I will get better at managing this over time. Bec has, so much better. Bec knows that I can too, I just need to cut myself some slack, get some strategies to tackle the depression and focus on healing. It takes time. Stop this rush to get back to peak efficiency. That will just burn me out. Take small steps, celebrate every little step forward and forgive every step back.

F IS FOR FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING.

the fellowship of the ring, specifically the extended edition dvd, is my favourite movie ever. in fact, when i need to "go to my happy place" all i need to do is put the movie on and watch up to the council of elrond, if i'm short on time, or the whole movie if i'm not. the shire is like the perfect place to immerse myself if i'm not feeling the best.

E is for Embarrassing

I have a complicated relationship with the concept of embarrassment. I don't generally get embarrassed easily and I'm quite a 'heart on my sleeve' person, in terms of not having much of a poker face and being pretty open with my feelings and peccadilloes. I am quite anxious most of the time at the moment, in terms of worrying about what people think of me a lot of the time, but in general I just do what I do and not let that affect me. In general I am not afraid to laugh at myself and often provide 'comic relief' in otherwise serious situations. This is a list of my top four most embarrassing moments, which aren't regrets for me, in terms of not worrying and dwelling on them and using them as (I think) funny anecdotes in my life.
1) when I first met the director of my work and quite a famous person in my field, I asked her who she was, even though I know who she is and was actually pretty excited to meet her. I just wasn't expecting to meet her literally five minutes after walking in to my first day as a student at the institute. Since then she's always made a point of remembering my name and asking how I'm doing, so it's worked out well in the end.
2) when I first met my David's mum, I'd been drinking and instead of thanking her for preparing a spare bed for me and politely sleeping in it, I decided to use that moment to tell her me and David only needed the one bed!
3) my time in Switzerland was essentially a long catalogue of episodes of funniest home video style pratfalls and faux pas, including slipping on ice in front of about 1,000 people on a busy Saturday morning in front of the bakery in Engelberg to the exasperated cries of 'What are you doing?!?!' from my host family, falling off my bike into a hedge right after trying to convince my second host family that I wouldn't need a helmet, and fighting with my host brother from my third host family to the point of kicking him in the shin, even though I was three years older than him and representing Australia to boot.
4) at uni I sat on a Camembert cheese, which we'd carefully prepared and set out for a celebration and we then couldn't eat because I had completely squashed with my butt.

D is for Dogs

I'm a dog person. I don' t actually mind cats, and I love lol-cats, but I grew up with dogs and would like to have my own dog one day. To me, dogs and my dad are linked in my brain. My dad was responsible for the dog in our family (the dog was essentially his dog), doing all the feeding and training and most of the playing with the dog. The image I have in my mind when I think of my dad is with his dog at his side. We've had three dogs that I remember well, four while I've been alive. The first dog my dad had for his own (his mum was a crazy cat lady so he didn't have a dog until he left home) was called Clancy. They had him when I was a baby, but 'his balls ran away with his brain' when I was small. Apparently, being a male dog, Clancy had an assignation with nice lady dog down the road, and had got hit by a car either on the way there or on the way home. He was a black labrador and a really good dog, according to my dad. Later we got Cleo, she was a border collie cross kelpie, a sheepdog, that we had when I was at early primary school. I don't remember her very well, except that she used to run around us when we were little a lot. Apparently she was 'rounding us up' being a sheepdog. I remember when she died, she'd got hit by a car too, and had managed to get home, so when we got home, she was in her kennel with a mangled leg. Dad took her to the vet himself. I think that's the main time I've seen my dad sad, though he is a pretty heart on his sleeve bloke, this was certainly the first time I remember firmly that my dad was sad, at the loss of Cleo. I remember sitting up crying about her, and my mum coming in and asking me not to make so much noise about it, because that was upsetting my dad. I think that was one of the first 'theory of mind' moments for me, realising that my dad felt bad too, and that what I was doing effected him too. The main dog we had when I was a kid, was Lucy. She was a blue heeler crossed kelpie, and gave meaning to a rule my dad has, 'never get a free dog'. She was a free dog who well and truly made up for that in vet bills over the year. We're still not sure if she had a death wish, or was just not particularly sensible, but she was always doing things that could have killed her, but surviving pretty much unaffected. She ate snail pellets once. She bit through the power cable of the pump to the water tank twice, while the pump was running. Dad had to put a cage around it after that. She jumped out of a moving ute while chained up, hurting her face and butt, more vet bills, but recovering quickly. She was a total ball-maniac - she loved tennisballs, could find them pretty much anywhere, and always wanted to fetch. She wanted to fetch even when you didn't want to throw, bringing the ball to you regardless of what you were doing, including bringing the ball to Taylor on lots of occasions, not just putting the ball near him, but sometimes actually putting the ball in his hand (cue wiping before Taylor put his hand back in his mouth). On only one time was her persistence in putting the ball near Taylor rewarded -- she put the ball near him one time when he coincidentally decided to lift his hand, managing to flick the ball across the shed. She dutifully, and happily, bought it back to Taylor before my dad intervened. I know dad loved her, I think she, as a dog, gave truth to the adage "mans best friend". When St Kilda lost the Grand final, it was to the dog my dad turned. She was 16 when her age finally caught her, and my dad buried her out in the bush. It was a while before we got a new dog, it was November when the puppy Darcy came to us. Me and David had only just got together, so she's tied to that for me. David meeting my family and the new puppy was at the same time. She's also a great dog, a kelpie-boxer cross neutered bitch. She cost $200, and so far, hasn't been the trouble our free dogs were. I think dad was hoping for a smart, friendly dog, since kelpies are smart and boxers friendly. So far she's proved very friendly. But she's smart enough too, for a dog. Clever in some ways and odd in others. Dad told me that one day the dog kept sneaking into the shed while he was working on a car. He couldn't see what she was doing, so he spied her out. She was sneaking into the shed, putting her head lightly into her food bucket and stealthily stealing a few biscuits at a time. Then sneaking back out and coming in quietly a little bit later. Clever dog! Lucy would've snuck in only once then madly chomped her way through the bucket as quickly as she could, but Darcy was sneaky and clever about it. Made my dad laugh and laugh. I'd love a dog like Darcy one day, but right now we're not likely to get one. I think I'm to fragile to look after and love something that I know already won't live as long as I will. But it'd be great to have a dog one day.

C is for caffeine

Caffeine is one of the more socially acceptable "addictions" I deal with. I need a large coffee (currently I'm using a nespresso with at least two capsules) in the morning, and generally more coffee and/or energy drinks through the day to stave off the headache be keep me sort of alert. At the momenta major difficulty I'm having with my depression symptomatology is the 'brain fog' the feeling that I'm not particularly with it or awake. I also have rather big problems with surreally at the moment, jn that my dreams are both vivid and fairly mundane at the moment so it is pretty hard to tell if I am actually awake. With the fogging as and lack of realityness I'm facing I can't really think of another solution besides stimulants, though I'm acutely aware they're probably making it harder overall since I don't sleep well and I'm anxious. What's that line from fight club? "when you have insomniay you're never really asleep and you're never really awake" this is echoing through my mind pretty hard at the moment. But I have a work project that has to be done by July 31 so more coffee for me.
As for my taste in coffee, I'm pretty much a coffee philistine. I'll occasionally notice that a particular coffee I've had wasn't very good, but not memorably enough to notice abs not repeat the experience. So I enjoy espresso and latte type drinks but also just plain nescafé straight from the tin at work. I'm pretty much an energy drink philistine too, I like red bull, v, mother, monster, whatever. I can remember when I had an energy drink for the first time too, which makes me feel kinda old, since they're so ubiquitous now. It was at a screening of Alice in wonderland at carousel. And it was awesome, gave me lots of energy and dynamism and hyperactivity and enthusiasm. Like all addictions I guess, it's a big hit to start with and eventually you're having them just to feel better or more normal. I've definitely fell straight into that hole with caffeine. We each have our vices, some more "acceptable" to ourselves and other people than others.

B is for Babies

I really like babies. They're so cute and fascinating, watching them learn and grow and giggle. I know this isn't good copy particularly, since not many people don't like babies and cute things, though I do just really like them. I'm getting to the stage of my life where lots of people I know are having babies and so it's becoming a bit complicated. At the moment, I can't have my own babies since I'm on medication that would be bad for the baby's health, as well as the fact I'm on the medication because of my depression and that would make it hard to be a parent. David and I are in a reasonable place to have children except that probably we aren't really emotionally ready and our finances could be in better shape. I am finding it rather hard with all the babies around me that are so lovely and wonderful when the prospect of my very own baby seems so far out of my reach. First I have to get my depression and working life under better control with the meds, then gradually come off the medication without that causing major trouble, and have a period of stability before David and I can try to make a baby. It all seems so far away, to the point where it may not even be possible. This does make me sad.

My sister might be having a baby soon. She is pregnant, though the baby's test results have been difficult, the baby has a 1 in 70 risk of having Down syndrome, so she has to go next week for an amniocentesis test. If the baby has got Down syndrome, she and Dan aren't sure whether they will have the baby or not. This saddens me since I do believe in the right to life for people with DS and I do think of her baby as my niece or nephew, regardless of he or she having DS, so it will be so sad for all of us to lose him or her. But of course the decision must lie with Caris and Dan, since they're the baby's parents, and I need to be strong and respectful of them, I need to be strong for my sister. This I think is going to be terribly hard, but it is just something I'm going to have to do.

A is for Alphabetical

So, I'm back again after a break. Recently I've been thinking a fair bit about how to organize my ideas and post more, and more often, so I've decided to make a series of posts about subjects alphabetically, though not necessarily in order, just as a thinking prompt to make blogs about the wide range of things going through my mind at various times. So I'm starting with an A for alphabetical first to remind me if the plan. How I'm feeling today is slightly achey and nauseated. It's a codeine hangover most likely, in combination with the second day of my cycle. My mood is pretty good though tired and not motivated for work yet. But that's okay. I have a big project on at work at the moment that is due 31 July, so that I can finish this semester's project off and then enrol in two units for semester two and have my master's finished this year. This is quite a high stress load at the moment but is good in the long run if I can commit to it and get it done then not have to worry about it again. At this stage my plan is to stay at my current work position in to the next year (if not longer) because I'm steadily employed under a stable grant until 2013 anyway. By that stage I will have my masters done and a good track record so if I wanted to move then I would be in a good position. I enjoy my work and love the people there and I couldn't ask for a better, more flexible and supportive supervisor, so long term if there's still a possibility of staying on to the next grant I think I'd like that a lot, but we'll see. I'm at a stage where it's generally recommended to postpone major life decisions any way, because my medication is still in a bit if a fluid state and so is my symptomatology. I'm currently taking Cymbalta 60mg in the morning, axit (mirtazepine) 15mg at night and valium prn for severe breakthrough anxiety or crazy thoughts. I'm fairly happy with this routine at the moment, me and my doctor switched me off pristiq earlier this year because of feeling 'flat' and unmotivated and not being able to work and so far I think this has improved with the change. The next planned change is to come off the mirtazepine because it's not a very good long term prospect metabolically and I am not noticing much sleep improvement at the moment either. I've started a symptom, mood and sleep diary with some tracking apps on the iPod touch that I have now and I think this is a good development. I think it'll give me some more clarity as to what's going on with me through this part of my life. I feel nauseated so I'm going to lay down for a bit.

Intentions: It's not what they're for, sometimes it's just what they do

I was just thinking about the intentions of things vs the consequences of things. It's really easy to get these confused, and I think I do get them confused fairly often. The concrete examples are:
My shorty-shorts. I wear a particular style of underwear that's often called 'spanx' or 'shapewear' or 'granny pants' or 'bridget jones undies'. Basically they're very high waisted tight shorts that come about halfway up my thigh or a bit below. These underwear are for 'tummy shaping' or 'thigh shaping' if you read their labels or search for them on line. That's the intention. However, what they're for, for me, is totally different. I don't particularly care if my tummy or thighs are 'shaped' or 'slimmed', the size of them is the size of them and changing that isn't what I'm after when I wear them under my skirts and dresses (I don't wear them under trousers). I'm looking for the coverage on the thighs so that my legs don't chafe (the fact they chafe is a consequence of the size of them/shape of them but they'd still probably chafe even if I was at that 'healthy weight' people/doctors/weight loss meetings talk about). I think I'd have to get waaaaay below the 'healthy weight' to get my thighs to not touch. So the consequence I'm looking for is the comfort of not having my legs rub, even though the intention of the item is to make them smaller/more shapely according to some f*cked up plan of making women all the same shape and size.
My parents' and other people's comments about my mental state/work performance/housework abilities/relationship status. The consequences of these comments so often is that I bottle up rage/sadness/feelings of personal injury until I can let them out later (or I don't end up letting them out and my depression gets worse, or my anxiety gets worse, or the irrational thoughts become too hard to ignore, or I need to pinch/flick my arms...) or I start some kind of argument/discussion that the other person never intended to have, which still ends up with the same problems for me (e.g. internal anguish). However, the intention of these comments is not the same at all -- I'm almost certain that most (if not all) of the people who talk to me about things going on in my life don't mean to be causing me pain and stress and anguish and ... . They talk to me about these things from a position of concern, or as a way to show they care, or that I'm important to them, or that they love me. It's just that the mis-match between the intention and the consequences for me is an ongoing difficulty I have with communicating with pretty much everyone except David, Trav, Lauren, Nate and my counsellor Andrew. Those five people are about the only ones I feel comfortable revealing the consequences of what they and other people say to me.
Another thought I had is about my pinching/flicking/scratching/face picking habits. The consequences of these are the bruises and mottled skin on my arms, the sores that won't heal right, and my acne/scarring on my face, but that's clearly not my intention. Thinking about it, my intention appears to be (at the moment anyway) to have some kind of external expression to what's going on inside of me, like, when I'm struggling with stress/pain/irrational thoughts/anxiousness, having something on the outside that I can see, and that others might see, seems really important to me. It's not like I particularly want other people to notice - attention seeking - but in a way it also is, like a sign up saying 'this is how bad it gets for me'. Being able to show the bruises to my new doctor, for example, helped me explain the extent of my mental troubles in a way that I find really difficult to put in to words, without having to try to put it into words.
The face picking is also a consequence/intention thing relating to comments from people, especially my mum and my sister, about my appearance (besides my size) -- when they mention things like 'you look like you don't take much care of yourself' or 'what have you been doing to your hair and face' or 'you look like you've been dragged through a hedge' they don't mean to send me in to a frenzy of picking, scratching, trying to pop pimples, plucking my eyebrows and grey hairs and generally angsting about the outside of my head. But the consequence of the comments built up over the years means that I rarely pass a mirror without having a bit of a go at my face/hair/both. It's a habit I haven't really thought of before, and my thoughts are still mixed as to what I want to do about it - try to beat it, leave it be, I don't know.

I'm at work at the moment, but I really wanted to express this, and I want the blog to become somewhere I can do that. I need to work on tracking my negative thoughts and praising myself in writing for victories I have for my psychologist and I've lost the notebook habit to some extent, so at this stage I'm thinking that the blog might be a good replacement. It's easier to share with others anyway. So yeah, good luck.