I walked a thousand miles just to slip this skin – days 16-18

I had a really bad night on Friday. I was at home alone with my dog and couldn’t even face putting the TV on to get rid of the silence. I needed the silence. A long cry later, plus a good night’s sleep, and I felt much better on Saturday. I had a restful , productive weekend with my husband and dog.

This week is #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek in the UK and this year the focus is on body image. I have struggled with my body – trying to love it, currently hating it, previously being proud of it, a whole yo yo of emotions about it. It’s exhausting. A few weeks asgo I visited my Mum for her birthday and she handed me a shoebox of old photos and assorted tidbits I’d collected as a child and a teenager. In there was a passport-sized photo of me from my year 11 school photo, smiling away. The smile masked a raging war inside my head that continues to this day. I turned to my Mum, holding the photo up and said, “I thought I was fat when I was 16. I was nothing of the sort.” – I wish, so much, I could go back and tell my 16-year-old self that she isn’t fat. She is healthy in body if not in mind, she will go through storms and come out of the other side, she is loved, and she is important. It was a sobering moment.

So on this #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek I am trying to love my body a little bit more each day. I’ve written a mental list of all the things I like about it – my eyes. My hands. My rugby-playing legs. My daft, Wigan laugh. My hair, which my hairdresser still finds hard to believe is naturally coloured and not dyed. My long fingers – “piano-playing fingers” as my piano teacher used to say. I am holding this list in my head and reminding myself every day there are so many things to love about my body. It was useful this morning when I hopped on the scales and found myself despondent at yet another weight gain where I had expected a loss due to a week of health eating and exercise. Our bodies are nothing if not perplexing at times!

I’ve never really believed in affirmations, but I am discovering their worth now I am actively saying them to myself. Here are mine:

• “You’re overweight” has become “you are going to the gym, walking more, and eating better – the weight, in time, will come off”
• “You are pale” has become “you care about your skin and actually the sun is not all that good for it anyway”
• “Your bum is enormous” has become “many women pay to have surgical procedures to get a bum like yours – embrace it, whilst acknowledging you’d like it to be a little smaller”
• “My boobs hurt when I run” has become, as above, “many women pay to have surgical procedures to get boobs like yours – embrace them, whilst acknowledging you’d like them to be a little smaller”
• “My thighs chafe” has become “you are moving and exercising more, hence why the chafe; in time it will go”

And so on and so forth. They’re silly and cheesy and I find this kind of affirmation stuff cringey at the best of time, but I am proud of taking the small steps to move to a more positive mindset. It can only help. I am the size and the shape I am – I am me.

“Love your body, because you only have one.”

 

I walked a thousand miles just to slip this skin – days 10-14

4th May
Spent my day with my father-in-law, who is in a [very nice] care home. Almost got broody whilst playing with my four-year-old great nephew and one-year-old great niece. Almost. Then the one-year-old started screaming and broodiness promptly left. It was a good day.

5th May
Clearly woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning – either that or withdrawal moodiness kicked in. Walked over to Otley with husband and dog to watch the Tour de Yorkshire. Got chased by a pack of cows, fell over some barbed wire, and screamed at my husband. We bickered for the rest of the day. I hope these mood swings aren’t a sign of things to come, but they feel ominous.

6th May
Woke up bright and early on a Bank Holiday no less, feeling refreshed. I then proceeded to cry for an hour because… well, I don’t think my body nor my brain need reasons right now. Watched the Ted Bundy film with friends and had a good time. Ignored my brain telling me to get absolutely smashed and refrained from buying alcohol in the Co-op. That road doesn’t lead anywhere good.

7th May
Back to work. Had a positive, productive morning, but spent most of the afternoon with earphones jamed in my ear because the noise level was too much in the office. I sent an email to my boss reflecting on my imposter syndrome – eyes welled up as I wrote, but I held it together, thank fuck. Trotted off to the gym, did my best, toughest work out since joining, and managed to ignore everything on social media pertaining to the L*v*r*o*l result. I love hate football.

8th May
It’s raining. I wish I could have stayed in bed.

I walked a thousand miles to slip this skin – days 8 and 9

I have slept well, I am feeling good. I have had an exceptionally busy week at work and I think that manifested itself in my dark cloud moment on Wednesday evening. I woke up with new impetus on Thursday and a day of wall-to-wall meetings at work, whilst exhausting, motivated and refocused me on my work. I went home last night, post-gym, feeling buoyed and content. Those dark clouds will roll by when least expected, so I take these wins where I can get them.

Today I feel good – I am going to a Springsteen club night in Leeds tonight, very excited! A room full of Springsteen fans, beer, and music?! Perfect way to kick off the [much needed] bank holiday.

P.S. for anyone who suffers from anxiety and/or panic attacks, the [free] Chill Panda app is working wonders for me. Not a sponsored plug, just a bit of advice from someone who regularly needs to take a breather every few hours. It worked wonders for me yesterday during a long meeting in a cramped, hot room.

I walked a thousand miles just to slip this skin – day 7

Wow, a week has passed. I slept well last night despite some initial restlessness. No weird dreams or sleep talking, and I woke up on time without feeling like death warmed up.

I’ve had a good, productive day at work – and yet, it’s 5.05pm, I’m sat at my desk writing this and a dark cloud has descended and I can’t pinpoint why.

Or rather, I can pinpoint why, but I just don’t want to say. This blog is helping me get a lot of stuff of my chest, but some things I’ll keep just to me.

Hopefully the cloud lifts.

I walked a thousand miles just to slip this skin – day 6

My sleep patterns are all over the place. My pre-bedtime routines are either not working or my brain just doesn’t care that I’m trying to implement said routine and is therefore choosing to do its own thing. I track my sleep with the Android Sleep app and my sleep efficiency has dropped from an average of 92% a couple of weeks ago to just 32%. Seriously. My last decent night’s sleep was Thursday, apparently, which tells a story all of its own, considering that was day 2 of withdrawaal. According to my husband, my sleep talking has also increased – he got into bed around midnight yesterday and I thought that was a prime moment to discuss gelatine. Good to know my brain is thinking about the real issues whilst I’m trying to get some decent kip.

Back to the gym tonight after a week off due to sickness. I hope some strenuous exercise will kick my sleeping habits back into line.

I walked a thousand miles just to slip this skin – days 3-5

I got on the scales this morning and clocked in a 3lb gain in the last week. This could have everything or nothing to do with my withdrawal and it’s more likely to be linked to the cold I’ve had in the last week and my complete lack of gym time, but it was a kick in the teeth all the same. It’s the biggest weekly weight gain I’ve had since Christmas and it feels like a huge setback.

It’s easy to say I shouldn’t let the above get to me, but my body image is so intrinsically linked to my mental health and depression that it’s impossible to separate the two. Self-esteem – or lack thereof – has been a perpetual problem for me since I was a teenager. I loved to eat my feelings and food has been a regular source of comfort during some of my most difficult depressive episodes. I used to wish I was one of those depressives who would starve themselves when going through an episode, but that is unhealthy, unhelpful, and just as complicated and difficult to deal with as overeating.

I haven’t felt my withdrawal much this weekend, although I think the stonking hangover I had on Saturday masked whatever symptoms I might have had. I could write a whole blog about self-medicating with alcohol, but that is a can of worms all of its own and I don’t want to detract from the purpose of this blog, which is to track my withdrawal journey. Yesterday I spent much of my time outdoors with my husband and dog, walking the five miles from our home to Otley. I recognise the importance of staying physically active during this withdrawal period and I felt relaxed and accomplished at the end of the walk.

Unfortunately, any hopes I had of combating Sunday night sleep syndrome with the five mile walk were misplaced. I slept terribly, as I did on Saturday night, and I feel this is going to be my biggest challenge throughout this process. I have always been a bad sleeper, but depression has exacerbated this and the withdrawal is not providing any relief. Aside from the usual restlessness, my night terrors have been an ever-present over the last few nights of sleeping and I am finding the first 90 minutes of sleep a tough hurdle to overcome. Implementing a disciplined pre-sleep routine is my focus this week, alongside getting back to the gym now my cold has all-but gone, and I am optimistically aiming for at least seven hours a night. It’s a good job I live in Yorkshire – there are plenty of sheep to count.

I walked a thousand miles just to slip this skin – day 2

Any illusion I had on Wednesday of a potentially easy withdrawal came crashing down today. I was walking to Co Op in the afternoon and had a proper existential meltdown – I was watching my legs move one in front of the other, all the time questioning whether my legs were actually real, whilst simultaneously trying to join the dots between my surroundings; buildings, traffic, strangers walking past me. All was a blur and I wasn’t sure any of it was real. Dissociation is weird. I managed to snap out of it by the time I got to the crisps aisle. It’s good to know my love of food has some positive uses!

My [potential] withdrawal symptoms are being compounded by the fact I’ve had a rancid cold since Tuesday. It’ll be interesting to see how they play out once the lurgy has left me (seems to be on its way out). I spent this morning in a board meeting and I had heart palpitations throughout the first hour, but it’s hard to know whether this is withdrawal or just my usual anxiety symptoms? Depression is such a confusing bastard.

Anyway, I’m crossing fingers and toes for a more peaceful night’s sleep than I’ve had in the last 48 hours. I’ve started listening to a children’s lullaby playlist (no, really) and it’s been super helpful. Ironic, considering at various points during my depression I’ve wished I could rewind the clock and become foetal again. But I can’t, so piano solo versions of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star will have to do.

 

I walked a thousand miles just to slip this skin – day 1

Or, more accurately, I spent six years taking antidepressants just to slip this skin. That’s roughly 2,190 days of ingesting 100mg of Sertraline, a total of 219,000mg. I’ve not slipped it; merely shrugged it off my shoulders, but it’s still hanging there and probably will for the remainder of my life. Most people who have experienced depression will tell you the same – you’re never really cured. Just like the addict, it’s a conscious choice not to slip into the ways of old.

Sertraline is a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, more commonly known as an SSRI. SSRIs increase serotonin, a messenger chemical that carries signals between nerve cells in the brain. It’s thought to have a good influence on mood, emotion and sleep. After carrying a message, serotonin is usually reabsorbed by the nerve cells, known as “reuptake”. SSRIs work by blocking reuptake, meaning more serotonin is available to pass further messages between nearby nerve cells.

I’ve been on this same SSRI since June 2013. I started on 50mg per day for six weeks, before returning to my doctor to ask for an increase, which was agreed at 100mg. This hasn’t changed for almost six long years, until Tuesday when I asked my GP if I could commence the process of withdrawal. She agreed and my dose has now been reduced to 50mg for six weeks before a further review of whether I am progressing significantly enough to reduce to 0. This is called tapering. It’s important not to withdraw cold turkey from SSRIs due to the risk of Antidepressant Discontinuation Syndrome, which can have severe mental and physical repercussions. You can read more about ADS here: going off antidepressants.

I wanted to write a couple of thoughts per day to describe what tapering feels like. My initial symptoms when I first started Sertraline were varying in both length and strength. The ones I most remember are listed below:

• Insomnia – I’ve always been a terrible sleeper but SSRIs made this feel more pronounced.
• Night terrors – ever sat up bolt upright in the first few hours of sleep? Ever seen spiders or shapes or people in your bed or on your wall? Doesn’t sound nice, does it? This is a night terror! What fun… they started in 2013 and haven’t stopped.
• Nausea and gastro problems – D, V, no appetite.
• Tiredness – see above re insomnia. Or as I like to call it, inzombiea, because you feel like the walking dead the following day.
• Teeth grinding – ever observed people who’ve taken ecstasy? They contort their faces into all sorts of wonderful shapes. They also grind their teeth. SSRIs are like taking ecstasy, right down to the teeth grinding and facial gurning. I’d wake up some mornings feeling like I had lockjaw.
• Tongue biting – like the above, I spent a lot of time biting my tongue for no reason except what I assumed was adrenaline.
• Dissociation – oh this one is fun. If by fun you mean horrible and terrifying. You basically don’t feel like you exist. You feel spaced out to the extreme, to the point where you don’t feel like you actually are where you are. I’d be walking down the streets on autopilot. How did I get from A to B? How did I make my legs move? I had absolutely no idea.
• Loss of libido – would you feel like jumping into bed if you were coping with all the above?

Thankfully most of the above waned after three or so weeks. Some side effects, such as insomnia and loss of libido, have stuck around, much to my annoyance. Who knows, maybe they’ll disappear as part of withdrawal! One can hope, but I imagine the withdrawal will feel much the same. Because I’ve been on my antidepressants for so long, I am likely to feel the effects more strongly. Thankfully, with a sensible head on, I am proceeding in the best way I know how – discuss with GP, agree to a tapering schedule, be aware of side effects/withdrawal symptoms, and commence.

This is my journey.