Day 31 of the reduction-to-20mg Citalopram challenge

and I'm on a level. It's pretty nice. I did sit with half a pill in my hand the other day, wondering whether I should double the dose back up to 40mg to help me get through this most recent of bumps in the road, but I'll stick with 20mg for now and have another think about it when I run out. I think I'm level and capable enough at the moment to face all these challenges without the need to lean on the drugs so much. I'm self-aware and keeping a good eye on myself, as well as Sophie, to make sure we're both level or on the up. The minute I notice I'm struggling, I'll re-evaluate.

Sophie has been through another short-notice doctor's appointment, an evaluation with the mental health team at CAHMS and has an appointment to start some developmental work with the counsellor who assessed her. Nice lady, Becky, very professional, a typical mental health assessment which I've been through a number of times myself. Sophie was very open and honest with her and didn't hold anything back, which is wonderful to see. I know how easy it is to go to these things and clam up and be so overwhelmed by the event and the feelings that you can't elicit any kind of information. But no, she was smooth and informative and helpful, on the outside at least.

At times it's been incredibly difficult to deal with her unending negativity. I know it's a symptom, I know it's how she's feeling generally, but my god I never thought it'd be so hard to see my little girl go through it. I'm trying my hardest to be stable and supportive and on a level myself, to give Sophie everything she might need to get through the day-to-day struggle I know she's experiencing. I think she's stable, I'm less worried about her now than I was a few days ago, and it's very comforting to know that she's in The System and things are moving forwards at a pace that I wouldn't usually expect from a service like CAMHS.

We also have a backup in the form of Sophie's school nurse, Linda. . Sophie has been very open with Linda and the nurse related some of her past to Sophie. They seem to have experienced similar ups and downs in their lives, and Linda told us that if we find the CAMHS service isn't working as we'd like, she'd get in touch with "her people" and get us on another route. Again, it's so comforting to know that someone at the school is watching over her and offering their professional support. Thank you Linda.

So, it's a steady plod to normality for both Sophie and I. Keep your fingers crossed the way is clear.

I've been leaning on the blog less and less

recently and I think that needs to change. It's always been a great outlet and analytical tool to understand how I'm feeling and what might be at the centre of low points in my life, and it seems a shame to ignore such a helpful resource. I'm not sure what's kept me away other than general apathy, but I'd like to return to regular writing.

I read back through the posts linked from my post on 5th Feb and my gosh, there were so many warning signs about my alcohol consumption and attitude to stopping. Had I been stronger I'd have stopped a couple of years ago, but as usual it's taken a huge kick in the arse to encourage action. This is something I'd like to explore with a psychologist, this habit of ignoring warning signs until things get incredibly heavy. I've done it for as long as I can remember - last-minute homework, putting off debts until they go bad etc. I see it as a form of self-punishment and a sneaky way of contributing to the destructive spiral of depression. I've known about it for years too. One would have thought I'd have done something about it by now. I think by recognising it when it's happening, and encouraging myself to sort problems at the earliest possible time, I could really contribute towards a generally happier me.

Anyway, to the reason I'm here. Sophie's been diagnosed with depression and referred to the CAMHS adolescent mental health team in Aylesbury. It didn't really come as a shock - the day before she came to me and told me she was feeling low, I'd told Mark I was worried about her, and it had occurred to me a week or so earlier that she hadn't been herself recently. I'm surprised my own "mental health radar" didn't click that she's depressed, as I'd certainly seen the warning sings over a long period. She's been staying in more, socialising less, eating less, burying herself in reading or the internet and somewhat less conversational, less perky. She's been asking all sorts of questions about depression, treatments, anti-depressants etc over the past couple of months, but I put that down to an interest in my own recovery more than her testing the water for her own state of mind. I guess my radar's been busy keeping tabs on my own  precarious recovery but I can't help feel a touch guilty that I didn't realise sooner. More on guilt in a few paragraphs.

However, Sophie was strong enough and stable enough to come forward and tell me how she was feeling. She said she was worried she was suffering from depression because she'd lost a lot of positivity from her life and things weren't getting better after a number of months. I gave her the biggest cuddle and we talked things through. I did a little probing to find out how long she's felt low and a round-up of the things that are bothering her. We talked about treatment options and promised to make a doctor's appointment the following morning. She spoke to her doctor and I was invited in to talk about treatment options. Her referral should go through soon and we hope for some contact with the service over the next few weeks. I've tried to give her as much information as possible to help her and those she tells understand what she's going through and how she'll be treated.

The poor girl. It's taking a while for it to sink in, for Sophie to decide who should know, to understand the implications and future treatment. Fortunately, I can still see large, shining sparks of my daughter, she smiles regularly and her sarcasm certainly hasn't worn off. I am gutted gutted gutted she's been diagnosed. She's lost part of herself and it's hit her when she was at the top of her game, but considering the depth of my own disease, not to mention the possibilities with the other half of her genes, the potential for a genetic disposition to depression has been in my mind since she was born.

As gutted as I am, I also have faith in the system. The mental health services I've encountered since my initial diagnosis have been at both ends of a pretty long scale but, on the whole, I've taken a lot of skills from each stage of the climb back up to 'normality'. I've heard good things about the CAMHS service in Aylesbury and  have good things to say myself about all the mental health services I've encountered from the Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire trusts, so my confidence in her recovery is strong. It may take six months, it may take years, but I know she'll get there, and starting now means she'll have the tools to deal with depression for the rest of her life.

Back to guilt. I am aware that the state of my own mental health over the past six months may well have effected Sophie in ways I can't really imagine, and I'm beating myself up about it somewhat. She's known I've been low, she's seen me struggle through various ups and downs and deal with alcohol and money issues. The flat's been a mess for months and I know it's not helped either of us. Hopefully the fact that I've been improving this side of Christmas should give her hope that things can get better, and that with the right management her diagnosis doesn't have to mean a lifetime of lows.

There really is hope. I think I'm barely restraining a cry of "WWWHHHYYYYYY??!" but I'm definitely leaning on my own experiences in recovery and, I suppose, the knowledge that Sophie has so many happy, loving and caring people in her life who'll give her the love she deserves to help her through.

Day 10 of the reduction-to-20mg of Citalopram challenge

and I'm confident that dropping my anti-depressant dose is the right thing to do. January was a completely different month for me. Getting Christmas out of the way, with its financial burdens and over-hanging threat of family unease, seems to have made a big different in my general mood and I've been on the up the past few weeks.

I happily attribute some of this improvement to the fact I'm still not boozing. I've not had a drink since 17th December and I think that's given me a huge hit of clarity generally. I've found it so astonishingly easy I feel like I'm cheating, and I somewhat regret not having stopped sooner. But as I've said elsewhere in this blog, the second-best time to plant a tree is today, and that slight regret isn't stopping me harvesting great big chunks of personal smug from my sobriety.

I do still have a couple of things holding me back. They're mostly psychological, and maybe it's time I started dedicating a little more effort to the blog again so I can explore these restrictions in a little more detail. I've been determined to start video-blogging but haven't got around to it - procrastination in general seems to be a huge hurdle at the moment! I keep thinking "One step at a time" but things do seem like they're stagnating a little. Walking, housework, personal care and waking lucidity all seem to have taken a bit of a hit recently, so once this cold buggers off I'll try and make a concerted effort to bring everything back into line with this "new me".

Can you believe it's been more than a year since we met?

It seems crazy to me. This year has been such a blur it's hard to keep track of the ups and downs.

January was an amazing month. The time we spent together gave me so much joy and self-esteem, I felt like I'd won the lottery... until you left. My heart, my brain were torn apart for a fair while at the start of February but, after consulting my friends and taking the plunge, there we were, a partnership, separated by thousands of miles but joined by wonderful, wonderful love.

The following six months were a heady combination of blissful adoration and harrowing separation. I felt so loved, and loved loving you. I'd worried about you for the first few months you were at uni, and kept my fingers crossed that you'd ease yourself into an active social life. I so enjoyed seeing you become more confident, less anxious, more involved socially, making friends and settling into a good routine in Geelong. I loved seeing you become yourself - the Tess I knew while you were here - and it gave me such hope for your future.

It's a shame things didn't work out between us, but that doesn't mean we didn't make huge achievements between us. We both opened up to another person, both let ourselves love and be loved, physically and emotionally. We both found and understood parts of ourselves we'd buried or put away for safe-keeping. We've come away better, stronger people and I still firmly believe:

Totally worth it.

I've felt so long feeling utterly low and negative and crap

that I'd forgotten about the positives 2011 brought for me.

• I got myself into a strong, loving relationship with a happy, vibrant, bright lady who loved me in return. I let someone in. I am attractive. Woo!
• I finally ditched my depressing job at the taxi company for something that finally gets me out and about. With the prospect of more work in the new year, things are even looking up financially too.
• I built and maintained some strong friendships with people new and old, young and adult, near and far.
• I kept a reasonably stable household and platform for Sophie, particularly during the first two-thirds of the year.

These last three months have been hell, and no mistaking it. When Tess and I split up I started drinking again. I could see the warning signs weeks and weeks ago, particularly when I noticed a tendency to turn to drink in the evenings. I caught my depression and self-destruction last weekend, when I got thrown out of the pub. I have plenty of unanswered questions about the whole event, but I know one thing for sure - I never, ever want to feel that way again, the shock and confusion and blood and shock, the waking regret, the hangover, the pain, the shock, the embarrassment of apologies, explaining what happened to friends, the uncertainty of who that person was that got physically manhandled out of a very busy bar.

I don't ever want to be in a position where I'm in danger of getting to that stage again, and similar events over the past few years have given me inspiration to stop drinking completely. That's it - I've spent half my life drinking alcohol, abusing it, using it as an escape, as a valve for letting myself out of my shell. No longer.

I actually feel anxious when I think about booze now. Scaringly, I feel anxious and drawn to drink. I mentally tell myself "Nope, I don't drink!" but it's amazing to see my booze brain being hooked by the image or thought of "just one drink".

I spent a good while not drinking in 2010 during the summer and really enjoyed it. There's a few posts about me and booze on the blog and many of them paint a picture of a very difficult relationship with drinking. I have done a few unquestionably stupid things while drunk over the past four or five years. It's done me very little good at all and now it's synonymous with downturns in mood and an increase in depressive symptoms.

Above's an interesting revalation: of my 36 years, I've been drinking for 18 years, or half my life. I came to alcohol quite late compared to my peers and definitely late in modern terms. I think I've just found the clarity and time to admit that I have alcoholic tendencies and booze and I just don't mix. I'm not the best person I can be when I've been drinking and I don't want any part of that any more.

So, Saturday 17th December 2011: the day I had my last drink. I'm determined to stick with this. I want my Noely back.

It's an odd feeling

loving someone and wanting to hate her at the same time. It's not even like I want to hate her, but my brain is doing strange things, pointing the finger, holding things against her, building resentment. I don't want to be that person, but is my head conditioned to try and find someone to blame?

I guess part of the problem could be that I don't really want to love her any more. It's too painful. It's been painful since the last few days we spent together, knowing we'd be apart for too long. Now I know we'll be apart forever, all that pain and yearning is still there, but instead of being a gentle hum underlying day to day life, it's an occasional stab in the stomach. She still comes to mind a few times a day and I resent that now.

I've had to go through my photo screensavers and take pictures of her off. As much as I try to hold on to the great memories of December and January, seeing her face makes my stomach twist just like it used to, but now with added agony. I cuddle up to myself in bed and growl that I'm imagining spooning with her.

I'm fully aware that there's a large financial incentive behind this. I got my refund back - £417 out of £880. This is really the only thing I resent and regret about the whole affair, and I don't know why I can't just let it go. Repressed anger, probably. Even though I emailed her and told her I'm angry, I don't feel anywhere near like I've let it go yet.

I know now there's a strong urge to cry behind all this. I have cried but only the once, and I knew at the time it wouldn't be enough. I think I've got myself into a classic circle of feeling pain, blocking it and storing it, letting it eat at me and generate more pain, causing the circle to start again. I'm low again, turning to sleep and alcohol to dull my head and pass the time. I need to fill my time with more productive things, get another job to improve my income and give me more self-respect. At the moment I feel like I'm wasting away and that's not a great place to be.

I've put a hold on the alcohol, which was easier than I thought. I need to keep up the walking and maintain the momentum of 33 miles in a week. In fact, I'll increase my weekly target to ten miles a week instead of five, which should encourage two walks per week.

I don't really want to feel like this, but I guess I've let my head get the better of me. Instead of hiding and suppressing, I should be exploring and releasing.

Misdirected anger and smiles

have been on the cards the past few days. Smiles because I'm finally beginning to feel a little better overall, and misdirected anger because it looks like half my air fare is in the balance. I was going to try and push the airline for a full refund minus 5% admin, then minus £100, then try for credit towards a flight in the next twelve months. I'll still push for that latter option, but I've given up the overall fight. I desperately need the money and I've just got no fight left in me.

I had to have it pointed out to me that my anger isn't being channelled the right way. I instantly jumped on the airline's back when I heard back about the refund, when in truth my anger should be directed elsewhere. That's where the spark of my fight has gone, fizzling into the ether like a dud firework.

Everyone around me is angry with Tess. I should be angry at Tess. I am angry at Tess, but that anger isn't going to change anything, and I'd rather not inflict it on her during her exams. I don't really want to inflict it in her at all. I need to feel it, I suppose, instead of keeping it in like I usually do... *goes to put on Rage Against The Machine*

ARGH GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING ARGH WHYYYYY ARGGGGH!? FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I WORKED SO HARD FOR THAT MONEY, SOPHIE AND I SACRIFICED QUALITY OF LIFE FOR WEEK AND WEEKS FOR THE £463 WE'VE LOST. FOR FUCK'S SAKE arrarARARAHRJHARGR GRHrhaarh rgargAHGRA HRHGARH GARGH!

ARGH. Fuck. Anger. BASTARDS. Fucking money. Four hundred and sixty three fucking quid!¬?£!"$ ARRRRRRRGHHHHHH GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Yes.

It's taken me this long to work out how I feel about everything and I'm still a touch fuzzy but hopefully I'll make enough sense to get my thoughts across. I spent a long time talking to myself while out for a walk yesterday, cleared a few things up and answered a few questions, so I finally feel like I can put things into words.

As I said during our skype on Wednesday, back in January I didn't want to get into a relationship with you because I wanted you, my good internet friend, to go to university with the freedom to find yourself, to go and have a social life and meet folk your own age and grow and flourish without being tied down to someone you couldn't touch. 

I'm so, so glad we tried. I'm over the moon that we had our time together in December and January. I'm honestly so pleased you are going forward, breaking out of your social anxieties and now have that chance to find your footing with people in your home country. Maybe the next two and a half years will help restore your faith in your compatriots.

Please, go out there, get drunk, sleep around, meet fantastic people, have huge fun, learn from your mistakes and try to take some inspiration from me - there ARE men out there who will treat you like a princess, who will love you and care for you and try their hardest not to let you be hurt because you ARE worthy. You're a wonderful person, your love and care and appreciation of the world at large are hugely attractive. You're bright and sexy and funny and you'll go far, I just know it.

I am hurting and struggling to let go a little. I had such hope for our future, wonderful dreams of our life together. That those dreams are gone is hard to accept, but I don't blame you for that. I'll handle it, I'll get through, because I am realising I'm stronger than I give myself credit for. You've helped me see myself for who I am, you've reinforced my positives and shown me where I could improve. You've given me the confidence to move forward and to try again, in time, to forge a relationship with the right person.

I know I'm not alone in those feelings of pain. Take your time, step away from blaming yourself, reflect as much as you can and please, don't be afraid to cry.

What am I doing to myself?

Worrying, mostly. Compounding that worry with speculation, impulsive conclusions and a generally heavy downturn in mood. Things haven't really been the same with Tess this past four or six weeks, we've been less communicative, relying on each other less and generally drifting apart. I am constantly batting thoughts back and forth and it's doing me no good whatsoever, so I thought I'd write to see if I can offload some stuff that I don't really feel I can talk to other people about.

Two or three weeks ago, I confronted Tess after a week or two of concern following a distinct downturn in communication coming from her. She'd been through a change in medication, sleeping pattern and social life and over a period of time I felt I was becoming less important to her. In our conversation I was a bit of a thoughtless dick, but I made my point and we talked it through and I felt better because I got some reassurance from her that things were no different between us.

At the time, I'd hoped for more communication from her, thinking that our chat might have encouraged her to dedicate at least a few minutes a day emailing me or trying to arrange a convenient time for both of us to chat, but it hasn't happened. I honestly didn't think I could miss Tess any more than I have over the past eight months, but I have recently. I've not felt as alone as this since she went back to Australia. So I've spent the past week or two since our discussion hoping that things would pick up between us, sending emails encouraging replies, hoping to hear back and getting a dialogue going again.

Even though both our routines have changed recently, I was sure a little more effort would be enough to make sure we could keep communication flowing. Unfortunately, I've had so little back from Tess it's got my head racing. Last week she forgot to send me a photo, so I reminded her and she sent one back. This week she's forgotten again and I've not reminded her, to see if she'll realise herself. I reckon this is probably a little childish but the mere fact she's forgotten to do something we've done every week over the past eight months, two weeks in a row, tells me her dedication isn't as strong as it once was. We've hardly discussed my trip to visit her since I booked my ticket four weeks ago, we've not booked anywhere, we've not discussed an itinerary, nothing.

I'm going to be honest here, totally honest. I have seriously considered cancelling my ticket to Australia, on the basis that if the next two and a half years of our long-distance relationship are going to be like the last few weeks, I know I'll be totally unable to handle it. My brain is running away with me after just two or three weeks.

Perhaps I'm just not strong enough to handle the distance. Maybe I don't have enough self-belief to really trust myself to do this in the long term. I guess if I was strong enough, I wouldn't be sat here in front of the computer with a heavy head, sweaty hands and on the verge of tears. This whole deal is making me question my dedication to the relationship, and the very act of questioning it tells me I'm insecure.

Whether my insecurities are founded or not, time will tell. I got a terse email today saying "I really need to talk to you" - no sign of a photo, an email back to say hi, she's glad I enjoyed walking the dogs, she got her bruise doing such and such. No hugs, no kisses, no "I love you". Nothing like that. So now my tummy hurts and my brain's swirling round and round with possibilities of what she needs to talk about.

My visit? Her time off? Money? Her trip here next year? Is she going in a different direction? Is she as disenchanted as I am? I feel like I'm crumbling. Only a few hours to go until I find out what she needs to say. I wonder what I'll say?

Bullying

Most men don’t want to admit that they’re in an abusive relationship. They describe the relationship and their girlfriend/wife using other terms like crazy, emotional, controlling, bossy, domineering, constant conflict, or volatile.

I've never thought about it quite like that before. It was the question my therapist asked, "Have you ever been bullied?" that set me off along this path.

We did some work on core values and beliefs, the things in the past that have contributed to who I am now. I mentioned my dad, his relationship with my mum and us boys, and my relationship with Sophie's mum. She asked the question and I thought about it for a moment, before explaining that although I never really felt like I fitted in at school, I wasn't bullied more than the occasional falling-out with someone and the flak that came with it.

Tara brought me back to the relationships with my father and daughter's mother. I started thinking a little more and could feel a revelation coming on. I always get a sense of impending achievement just before these revelations, anticipation of a wonderful, helpful insight. My dad never really bullied us directly (although that's open to interpretation), but he certainly bullied mum. Sophie's mum definitely bullied and abused me and, just as in that quote above, I never really admitted it until these past few days.

I was bullied, by my girlfriend. I had an abusive partner. I think it's a big step forward to see what happened in that light, because that's exactly what it was and, in knowing that, I can start to move forward with getting past it

I did some reading before I came online this morning. I had to modify my search somewhat to find information specific to a woman bullying a man, instead of vice versa. One of the hits, below, rang so many bells it startled me:

http://shrink4men.wordpress.com/2009/01/30/10-signs-your-girlfriend-or-wife-is-an-emotional-bully/

Just like the opening quote above, I classed her behaviour as manipulative, controlling, crazy and angry, not as abuse or bullying. Now I see it for what it is, I can work through it, but I'm surprised how hard the realisation has hit me. I intend to explore this theme of bullying further in the near future as I firmly believe it has a strong influence on some of my current behaviours. The realisation that it was bullying/abuse that I suffered has had a strong impact on me and I'd like to explore that further.