Coffee, The Shakes, Letters and Victory!
In the closest impression of Stewie (Family Guy) I can do, "Victory is mine!". In what I can only call a battle of wills between me and myself, I have won. Ok, this is difficult to describe without sounding really 'look at me', so go with me here. I've been suffering with Dysthymic Disorder. Which, by a contradiction in itself, is Chronic Mild Depression. Do you research, it's brought on by a trigger event (sister in a car crash, old friend of mine died) and often occurs in Uni students under particular 'stressors'. It doesn't include any psychotic or manic episodes and has a list of symptoms similar to that of any modern day teenager. It should last no longer than a few years (teenager me thinks again) and can be sorted by working out the underlying issues causing it. One conspirital thought I had relates to the symptom that sufferers will claim they are fine for lengthy periods and appear so, but will drop back into depression every once in a while. Isn't that any person? A bad day at the office maybe? A bad week? Is it just an excuse to label us all mad?
It's odd, because I fit the list of manifestations pretty well. Plus it explains a heck of a lot. There are references to vitiman deficiences, I had the blood test some time ago showing I had an iron and magnesium problem or something. Sufferers have trouble 'switching off' to sleep and sleep badly, I've been on sleeping tablets for ages just to nod off but wake up a lot. Suffers often oversleep as well, well I can sleep for 16 hours without blinking, and do when i've got days off from uni. Sufferers are irritable (not cynical I might add) and can be hostile. I put this down to my constant tiredness. Odd really. Needless to say, I've been branded as a sufferer because I fit the bill in the other departments too – like the section on substance abuse. But I still don't trust it.
My housemate Dave came up with a valid description the other day. Depression is a state of not caring, you have no energy to do anything and just don't want to. People who are depressed commit suicide when they start taking pills, because they've finally got something giving them the gusto to do it. Niche.
The victory refers to my constant refusal to swallow anything to help. Efexor Venlafaxine 37.5mg. I had a whole ton of them provided. Night and day. Happy in the day, sleepy at night. But over the course of the problem I've taken maybe 10 if that. Now, they've been taken away from me because they finally think I don't actually need them. They were only worth 30p each on the black market anyway. Arrr.
Personally, i'm almost there. One more group session to go and i'm free to continue without the label. I'm looking forward to it. Perhaps I'll throw an 'It's over' house party. Yay.
Second on this weeks list is letters. I had a letter from an old friend because he has no internet connection. Written on champagne paper and in lavender ink it really cheered me up immensly. The ancient art of letter writing should be resurrected for sure. I'm in the process of replying and i'm really enjoying it. The royal mail are on an offensive to make us love them and start writing again before they lose their monopoly and to be honest, I think we all should. Trust me, get some paper and write to someone. Your Mum probably is a good start. Or your grandparents. They'd love a letter I reckon. Go for it. It's not that scary.
Next up is the shakes. I'm trying to find a correlation between the shakes I get from alcohol and those I get from Coffee. Over summer I turned into a 'super strong coffee a morning man just to operate' living with a 'a whole litre of coffee and morning man just to operate'. I've come off it slightly but this morning I had the time so knocked some up. I'm now typing with shaky fingers. My body ovbiously can't take this amount of caffiene any more. Sob.
Alcohol shakes occur the morning after and can last the whole day (case in point was Sunday after muchos drinking). So maybe I should come to the conclusion that the shakes are a way of my body telling me to 'not even think about doing that again idiot'. Maybe I should pay more attention to myself.
Oh, and go and see the Wallace and Gromit film. The attention to detail is wonderful and the light hearted comedy is refreshing. I'll need to see it twice to pick up all the little jokes, like the brand of nail gun grommit uses is 'botch' or the antique shop called 'Rare Bits' in a film about rabbits. Masterful.