Crazy Like A Pack Of Galas

These last couple of weeks have been some of the toughest I have had to go through in a long while. I have barely had the time to finish a cup of tea, let alone blog. I am certain that my lack of blogging is contributing to the issues that I have mentioned below.

Leading up to these past few weeks, stuff has been good. Things bubbling a long nicely. Money in the bank, work coming in, food on the table, sleeping kids, sunny days, physical activity, laughter and socialising, everything that you would classify as 'perfection'.

Then it struck.... gloom and doom.

I had been working like a mad woman to get off of my anti-anxiety medication for months. I started taking this medication after years of deliberation, analysing, questioning, but most of all, suffering. I have spoken about my anxiety in the past - its the kind that will just jump up and bite you in the ass out of nowhere. My life on this medication is ok, emotions don't really register as well, weight gain - a lot of weight gain, the occasional bout of worry and fret. My life off this medication is great but full of doubt and constant worry about everything. It is like waking up from a nightmare and not being able to shake it off all day. Its that pit of your stomach worry, it kills me it is SO frustrating to live with. As you can see, it is a Catch 22 situation. I would rather be medication and learn to deal with everything in an organic way as I feel it is something I can manage with the right support.

I finally got off them and I was pretty impressed with how it went. I honest to goodness felt great and I did not suffer at all from any of the side affects that often arise. Three weeks of pure bliss. I had regular emotions, I could cry at the sight of a puppy running along a sunset filled beach. I could roar with laughter at the kids carrying on like galas. I could have those moments, you know, where your guts felt like they had been dusted with glitter and diamonds. Shit was good and life felt pretty frickin' awesome. Then...BOOM. Shit was not good. It was all in my mind, my consciousness created craziness and worry, it then manifested into actual craziness and worry. I could see it seeping out and sticking to everyone.

I am slowly coming out of my fog only to discover that life is starting to crumble somewhat. Keith and I are both fortunate to be earning a bit of money here and there with our own businesses but it isn't really enough to keep our budget ticking over. All of a sudden, there was no money, there was not a lot of food on the table, the kids were sick with the sniffles, I had discovered I now had hay fever (big time...I have never had hay fever, let me wallow!!), Keith and I were bickering - constantly, the house was/still is a mess, like seriously filthy, and the gym is a distant memory. However, despite this mess, the work has been flowing in (yesssssssss).

We have started to approach the letterbox with apprehension. Home Brand is taking over our fridge and cupboards. I have found myself looking around our home at the things of value, some things we never use that could could potentially buy us a week's worth of groceries if they were sold. Memberships and subscriptions have been cancelled, Foxtel was the first to go. Up next is my car - she is on the market looking all new and spiffy.

The most important thing to me is my family. I could live in a tent and be content and happy with my three loves. We have learnt that we need to stick together and not lay blame here or there. We have got to be honest, and face up to some things that we would rather run away from. We are embracing the fact that we need to sick like glue these next few weeks and just roll with it - the good, the bad and the ugly. The easiest solution is not one that we are looking for right now. The easiest solution would be for Keith to go back to work for another organisation, doing the same old work, getting paid far less than what he should and spending less time with his family. We may be eating baked beans every other night but at least I have a husband who is working from home, forging working relationships with major companies, earning what he can as he starts up his own business.

So after all of this, my crazies and all, I went to see my dear doctor. I looked him in the eye and I just cried, like ugly crying. I told him what was going on, I told him all of my worries and all of the silly things that I thought were complete nonsense. I even said, and I quote, "I feel like such a dick, I don't even know what I am doing - you should be at home relaxing by now, not listening to my crap." He literally took my hands and told me exactly what I needed to hear - everything is okay, you are amazing blah blah. Then he told me something no other person has ever told me, he told me what was wrong with me - "Amelia, you are not depressed, you have Delayed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (seven years delayed)".

SHIT

SHIT

SHIT

The only thing to do in this situation is get away. And that we did. Rapid Bay called and we answered. No phone reception is awesome sometimes. I feel refreshed and re energised ready to grab this craziness by the you know what's, and get on with it.

Here's to a much brighter today and tomorrow.