Depression seeps through
The especial type of terror
Depression has an eclectic taste
Filled, as expertly
As the former.
I’ve annoyed myself by tapping out a longish post on my experience of doing a music festival and getting half of it deleted through a disconnection. Bah!
So, I’ll have to re write the deleted bits.
In a nutshell, I am glad I went but I’d do things differently if I did it again. I’ll tell you about it when I get this other post sorted out. I think there are some particular points that really are worth thinking about if you have mental health and/or physical disabilities and want to experience music festivals.
Anyway, more to follow…
I have been soo anxious today. I’m putting it down to a bit of agoraphobia following a period of confinement indoors. First I was ill, after the aerobics, then I just feel like I’m faltering a bit lately. There are days when I’m in a low mood and don’t want to do anything. Today I went out for a reeeeallly short gym session. I went for that option because I couldn’t come up with any other ideas on the spot.
When one has been indoors for a few days, the outside world no longer feels ‘normal’. It’s a scary place with “lions and tigers and bears… Oh My!! Lions and tigers and bears, oh my..” (film reference in case you were unaware
It really is. It’s a place with loud noises, bright lights and sensory overload.
I guess it’s generalized anxiety, as it has no particular focus. I just knew I had to do something and the gym has been a bit scary since I’ve associated it with the last episode, when I did too much physical exertion and felt ill for a few days. I didn’t want to let 2,3,4 weeks pass without going because I knew I’d end up building it up in my head.
I just feel constant anxiety today that hasn’t gone even after the out-of-house experience. What is anxiety like? It’s like being boxed in to a small space. It’s like having a hundred sentences starting in your head, and before any single sentence is illuminated another has come to take its place. It’s total body takeover – churning stomach, nerves scrambling, muscles tense. It’s wanting to throw up, feeling sick and nauseous.
I dislike anxiety intensely, especially when it causes my system to be overloaded with unusable stress hormones and doesn’t ‘come down’. My experience is one of being stewed in juices, a cauldron of cortisol and its cohorts. I know the ropes. When my system is ‘up’ like this, those churning feelings take their course, eventually dying away to be replaced with physical/mental exhaustion.
I’m glad I did bite the bullet and go – I may suffer a bit while I recover my equilibrium.
First of all, I have a success to report – i DID my observed teaching thing. I was ultra nervous, and have felt quite ill for a few days after, but, nevertheless, I did it. I had the audio go haywire so coudln’t show my film clips properly, so thank goodness it wasn’t a job interview!!
I’chose to do mine on anthropology, specifically study of cultural sameness and difference observed. I was also intrigued by the Japan effect – calm cool orderly queueing for food, whereas Haiti had police all round, the food line could not have worked in that environ without police/military control.
I was trying to keep the subject tangible and there’s not a lot more topical than Japan right now.
I’ve been ill ever since, though I’m slowly feeling better – on wednesday I could not stop crying – it was a little program called “lark Rise To Candleford” which started it off. LRTC is a Sunday Scheduler’s wet dream – whimsy, period gowns, genteel behaviour and lots of roaming amongst fields I wish I had newrby.
Anyway, the other peoples’ opininons thing was just that I’ve been told off by someone younger than me for buying expencsive tickets to a festival. Granted they are bloody expensive, but why people suddenly think it’s their duty to dish out stern warnings, is beyond me.
Part of being ill seems to be your own desires and wants are questioned and even just thinking about this kind of Victorian “This is how money should be spent…” has my toes curling and my stomach backing up into my ribcage.
I havne’t slept a wink tonight so no doubt I’m not in a fully decisive aspect.
I feel…weird. Pent up, tense, low moody.
I have an assessment thing on Monday for a course I’m doing – a group presentation that scares me because I’m an anxious little bunny. Is that why I feel weird?
Or is it because my friend cancelled our meet up today and I, in some way am feeling the withdrawal from psyching myself up to be all social and now…nothing….?
It might be all of the above, plus the fact I nearly crashed the car today. It was a roundabout deal – I think I assumed that the car in front was going through the lights, when in fact there was a q in front of her so she had stopped. I only realised this as my heart pinched with terror when I glanced up and saw the backside of her vehicle advancing towards my bumper (though obviously it was I who was moving). I did an emergency brake the like of which I hope I never have to do again.
My car (and it’s not even my car) stopped dead an inch before her back end. You know how people say their lives flash before them when they are in an accident. Well, I could say, rather, that my motoring future flashed before me in those few seconds. I thought “points on my licence; insurance going through the roof; parental ire; awkward apologies to other driver, followed by information exchange and witnesses to bear against my driving…”
And then, amazingly, the foot that had floored the brake did its job. The jolt I was expecting came only from my own car’s quick-stop.
I was only a few minutes from home so I drove the rest of the way with adrenalin coursing through my veins. I told myself off for letting thoughts, or reaching for a drink, or whatever it was that lost my attention, get in the way.
The thing is I’m very sensitive. In the old days people used to say it was their “nerves” they had trouble with. Now they’d probably call it anxiety. I am so sensitively drawn though, so that stuff like this doesn’t just brush off in half an hour. My system stays on active alert for useless hours.
A glass of wine with my dinner hasn’t really helped. It seems to have a depressant effect on me.
I don’t know what is wrong, but I feel really weird now.
So, after the botch-up on Wednesday (described in the last post) I was given an appointment for this week to go back to get a new inlay fitted on my root canal treated tooth.
Just because I love the visual, please welcome back, *American talk show host accent*
The reason I made a part 2 to this post is that something happened on Friday. The something that happened is my temporary filling remained true to its calling. It turned out, not only to be temporary, but also temperamental, refusing to last until my next appointment. Couldn’t last seven days.
It is a different kind of filling to last time, which was also a temp, but this new one doesn’t have to be drilled out. According to Dentist he ‘just flicks this one out’ – no drilling – YAY. Except…
it suffers from premature ejection. A very embarrassing condition for any filling.
I was eating a salad. I thought an olive pip had found its way past the pitting machine, as I bit something hard. Retrieving the object I realise with horror it is my ‘just flicks out’ filling. Thank God I was at home. I still had a freak-out, though.
The prematurely-ejecting filling is white, hard, and rather large. It looks and feels quite toothy, probably because there’s not much of my original molar left above the gum line, so the position the temp was filling in for was a central, executive position. Lots of stress. Like filling in for Richard Branson, maybe, while he’s pissing about in a hot air balloon.
Anyhoo, I get a bit stressed, “ohmygod,ohmygod,ohmygod”, holding the temp in my shaking hand. I swear I didn’t used to be phobic about dental stuff. I’ve had two dubious dentists, a few bad experiences, and now I’m a mess around them all.
My molar without the filling resembles a castle ruin. I’ve got my next appointment tomorrow morning – eeeeeeek!!!
I’m sweating right now. I feel sick. I’m so bloody anxious and my stomach is turning over. Occasionally the rational side of my brain hazards a know-it-all comment, “there’s nothing to be this scared about”, “get a grip”, “maybe you should just think exactly what it is that’s making you anxious and work from there”.
I’m anxious because I associate him with pain, discomfort and dodgy technique. I’m also annoyed because every time I have to do something that is anxiety-provoking, it knackers me afterwards.
Anyway, as a side dish, I was thinking about whether I have “dental phobia”. I don’t think I do, you know. For me, a phobia involves a few things:
I don’t avoid going to the dentist – I may have been guilty of postponing in the past, but if necessary I go.
I do have a disproportionate fear about going. I mean, my fight or flight response is in full-swing, and really this much adrenalin should only be released if one is in imminent danger of being hit by a bus. BUT, although disproportionate, the fear isn’t totally unfounded. I have had several reasons to be wary of my dentist, and he has caused me discomfort and made dubious decisions (for instance, he waited until I was in agony before doing an emergency root canal treatment, rather than reacting to the increasing pain I’d told him about). So, although my anxiety is excessive, I think some anxiety would be rational.
I do, obviously, have butt-loads of psychological and physical disturbance both in anticipation of my dental procedure and whilst having anything done.
So, I hit two out of three for the phobia criteria (of my own devising, not DSM or anything). I think I have a huge fear about being treated by this particular dentist. But, I think that if I had a good experience with my next dentist (I’m definitely changing practices after this gets sorted) my fear would markedly diminish.
This is all drivel in terms of it wasn’t really necessary for me to write or analyze it, but I’m SHIT-SCARED so I suppose writing it down is my way of coping with/dispersing the fear.
This written after my last appointment on Wednesday:
I just have to get this out of my system. I’m so angry right now. Angry, agitated, I’m not even sure exactly what.
There’s no point going into details of all the little things I don’t like about the treatment I’ve had from this dentist, it would be laborious to write and boring to read. I’ll try to be concise, here, though I’m not promising anything…
Root Canal Treatment
I started this treatment months ago following agonising pain. I posted about it. Anyway, the end of this saga was meant to be over today [edit - last Wednesday]. I was informed I’d be going in to have the temporary filling removed and, FINALLY, the permanent inlay/crown fitted. I was not looking forward to today’s appointment as my dentist is a wanker unskilled in the gentle touch. I’m reliably informed that some dentists realise that the mouthful of teeth in front of them are attached to an actual live person. They realise the mouth, whilst undeniably squishy in places, is not to be confused with a lump of Play-D0h.
The idea is to mold white teeth out of Play-Doh, press them into the gums of the “patient,” and then play dentist. Teeth can be drilled with the plastic pretend drill and then filled with the silver Play-Doh compound – editorial review
I don’t think he’s incompetent (though he may be). He’s heavy-handed though. He’s also crap to talk to. He talks way too fast, occasionally contradicts himself and, despite promising to stop if anything hurts, I’ve realised he’s just not very good at recognising that ramming things with sharp edges against my gum line (like the x-ray thing, and the mould thing for inlay impressions) is going to be uncomfortable.
Fuck that. I’m not even bothered about the discomfort anymore. After this root job had been finished I was planning on moving practices anyway. Too many irksome experiences.
The issue now is that the inlay that he ordered, that the last impression had been taken for a few weeks back, couldn’t be fitted today. I know these things happen. But the anxious build-up to the appointment was considerable: hoping and thinking that this would be the final part of what has been a long, at times agonising, treatment.
He is such a fuckwit. I am assuming anyone reading this has the sense to know it’s not written in a calm frame of mind, with the benefit of a few days’ perspective. It’s fresh. I fucking hate him right now.
He tried to fit the inlay and it was the wrong size. He drilled a bit more, messed around for ages in my mouth with one implement and another, presumably aiming to make the damn thing fit. Then he had a go at altering the white inlay itself. Several times I ventured queries, “what’s wrong?” “is it not going to work?” etc etc. He just went on with it.
But nothing was really confirmed “this is why it didn’t work…”. He’s infuriating that way, he talks fast, says a lot, and you just can’t be arsed to try to pin him down on anything that isn’t fundamentally important to the task at hand. Fundamentally important to me, in this case, was withstanding a bit of discomfort in order to leave with a finished product.
The appointment ended, 40 minutes later, when, in his final attempt to press the inlay into the glue, he instead, flicked the inlay (a hard object, ridged like a tooth) out of position, and
I coughed, shocked. By closing my gullet, hawking hard, and holding my breath, I was able to sit up and spit it out onto my hand.
“What the HELL IS THAT?”
Of course, I had a good idea what it was, but I was trying to convey my ire. He seemed pleased I had retrieved it and took it from my hand. I’m usually not one for public shows of anger, so even me saying “hell” in an irate tone is testament to how much this dude had pressed on my patience.
At this stage we called it a day with the round peg in the square hole scenario. I was shaken and stirred. He took fresh impressions, is sending off for ANOTHER inlay. Meanwhile he put a temporary filling in again with orders to come back in a week, when hopefully the new inlay will have arrived and be the right size.
In the meantime, my dentist continues to play with his “Play-Doh Dr. Drill and Fill”.
Two separate topics really. First an update on my recent trip to Paris (I was there three nights, including New Year’s Eve).
I was stressed to hell before I went to P. I was fretting and worrying and wobbling all over the place. I had sort of decided that I couldn’t do much more than ride out the expanding wave of anxiety. I came to see it as somewhat inevitable, given that it was something I’ve not been well enough to contemplate doing for months and months.
I won’t go into every detail; just a few things of importance for me. Firstly, I survived! Yay! I got through it one step at a time. I was not half as bad as I thought I’d be on the fatigue-front and I was able to take several time-outs when I needed to. One example of this is when the rest of the group decided to visit the Moulin Rouge and I opted out because I’d had next to no sleep and felt like a bed was far more inviting than a French tourist site. Talking of beds, though, I’m not sure I’ll ever use a hostel again. Check it out:
I actually couldn’t sleep on that top bunk because when I climbed up there the whole edifice creaked and wobbled so much that it scared the shit out of me. I decided pretty sharpish on the first night that I’d be hauling the mattress to the floor each night to sleep on. That worked out better. For my still intact limbs, anyway.
Something I noticed about anxiety whilst I was there was that everyone was anxious at some point. With me it was mainly about packing (energy drain), being on time and not having to force myself to do too much once I was there. I was very nervous about my CFS and handling that. My bunk-mate was stressed about flying, not something I’m too panicky about, and other people were anxious about stuff like how we could organise taxis, not get lost and that sort of thing.
There were some nice moments, like sitting in a cafe/bar watching the world go by whilst sipping wine. Then there were some appalling moments, like getting separated from the group on NYE with just one other girl, both of us not great at map reading and walking the streets of Paris like a couple of bedraggled strays, a Taxi or Metro out of the question after midnight.
All in all it was good for me, it has lifted my confidence, which inevitably gets dented with lack of practice at such things as trips away.
I really wanted to see Notre Dame and I was able to do that, all be it the exterior only. Here’s one pic I took:
Now a quick word about the SNOW.
I do think we were really lucky to travel back within days of this awful snow storm we’re having at the moment. In the spirit of gratitude I have to be thankful that we weren’t unable to get home, nor did we suffer any major delays. That said, I’m feeling like a caged bird today. The snow just seems non-stop and I hate this feeling that I can’t go anywhere or do anything. I was hoping to get to the cinema today but it would have been virtually impossible after the road and motorway closures. I think I may be a little pre-menstrual because I don’t always feel quite so agitated by things that I can’t do anything about. Today, though, it has been hard to stop myself from bouncing off the walls.
Anyway, I’m hoping that now Paris is under my belt and not looming like some shadowy figurine outside Notre Dame, I can move forward a little.
The rewards of defeat are even better...
Borderline Personality Disorder. Fibromyalgia. Chronic illness. Me.
I have people to kill, lives to ruin, plagues to bring, and worlds to destroy. I am not the Angel of Death. I'm a fiction writer.