Showing posts with label Symptoms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Symptoms. Show all posts
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Symptoms VII ~ Blanking Out
I realise that I spend a lot of my time on the 'net, and that it tends to suck time away, but I've noticed a lot more lately that time seems to just slip past me in blocks. I can sit down on the sofa and look up and find an hour has passed without me noticing. I just kind of phase out and forget that I am there. Or that the room is there. It's not like time is standing still, but more like I am and time is rushing past me faster than usual.
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Symptoms VI ~ Cold
I was told once by an Official Head Person that depression is the most physical of the mental illnesses. I'm interested in the variety of physical sensations that must, I suppose, be created by the various chemical signals emanating from my brain.
Anxiety can give one an amazing array of physical symptoms. In my case, depression and anxiety are more or less indistinguishable. I look in the mirror and see the new streaks of white hair and am flooded with fear: Running out of time. Too late to fix anything. It's already over.
The thrill of terror is quite real and it creates a strange kind of moral paralysis. I find it very difficult to function in even the simplest way in the grip of it.
But the feeling I have most of the time, at various levels of severity, is of cold. I have lain awake at night, with the heater up as high as it will go, curled around a hot water bottle and with the cat under the covers, and I am cold. Cold from the inside out. I have wondered if this is real or entirely the product of my brain. It is winter, after all. But the cold I feel certainly comes from a region between my ribs in the front. Adrenaline. My heart races and I can't warm up. I shiver uncontrollably at night, even when there is no physical sensation of cold from the air. I have bought more blankets, worn socks and cardies to bed.
I'm cold.
Anxiety can give one an amazing array of physical symptoms. In my case, depression and anxiety are more or less indistinguishable. I look in the mirror and see the new streaks of white hair and am flooded with fear: Running out of time. Too late to fix anything. It's already over.
The thrill of terror is quite real and it creates a strange kind of moral paralysis. I find it very difficult to function in even the simplest way in the grip of it.
But the feeling I have most of the time, at various levels of severity, is of cold. I have lain awake at night, with the heater up as high as it will go, curled around a hot water bottle and with the cat under the covers, and I am cold. Cold from the inside out. I have wondered if this is real or entirely the product of my brain. It is winter, after all. But the cold I feel certainly comes from a region between my ribs in the front. Adrenaline. My heart races and I can't warm up. I shiver uncontrollably at night, even when there is no physical sensation of cold from the air. I have bought more blankets, worn socks and cardies to bed.
I'm cold.
Sunday, 17 January 2010
Symptoms V
The night waking has stopped, but I am six time zones away and my poor wee brain can't remember whether it is the middle of the night or first thing in the morning. For all I know, they are actually continuing.
I am about to embark on a week of distraction. I hope it all goes along without pain. There are important things to do, and people to meet. It all has to be very upbeat. I can fake upbeat.
Watched a film tonight about human love and human evil.
Love did not win.
I am about to embark on a week of distraction. I hope it all goes along without pain. There are important things to do, and people to meet. It all has to be very upbeat. I can fake upbeat.
Watched a film tonight about human love and human evil.
Love did not win.
Monday, 11 January 2010
Symptoms IV
Hard to type. Normally, that is, in an undepressive state, my typing speed ranges between 60 and 80 wpm with few mistakes, if I'm concentrating.
In the last few weeks, I have slowed considerably and have difficulty typing even straightforward sentences and simple words. Most common error is transposing letters. My fingers, which usually fly over the keys, are awkward and don't seem to remember where they should go. The thought of a particular word and the movements of my fingers to type it normally have very little lapse, but now there is a notable time lag.
It's been years since I've read a book about depression. Do any of them note a fall in manual dexterity?
In the last few weeks, I have slowed considerably and have difficulty typing even straightforward sentences and simple words. Most common error is transposing letters. My fingers, which usually fly over the keys, are awkward and don't seem to remember where they should go. The thought of a particular word and the movements of my fingers to type it normally have very little lapse, but now there is a notable time lag.
It's been years since I've read a book about depression. Do any of them note a fall in manual dexterity?
Saturday, 9 January 2010
Symptoms III
Out of breath.
Catch your breath.
Try to breathe in, but it staggers sideways and stops, not knowing where to go next.
Breathing out comes in quick little gasps, interrupted by little chokes.
Catch your breath.
Try to breathe in, but it staggers sideways and stops, not knowing where to go next.
Breathing out comes in quick little gasps, interrupted by little chokes.
More Symptoms
Sleep comes late, usually some time after midnight. Then the world intrudes again at three or four. The pain wakes you up and you lie under its weight, with enough room to shake. You struggle to keep the crying down under the threshold because if it gets out it will blaze through you and leave nothing sane. It will become a mania that can't be stopped, you will end the night screaming and clawing your skin. You lie still, hoping the pain will leave you alone if you do nothing to draw its attention.
You remember to pray, but the only prayer you can think of is to beg to be released. Suicide is not allowed, but you can pray for death.
You can ask, can't you?
You remember to pray, but the only prayer you can think of is to beg to be released. Suicide is not allowed, but you can pray for death.
You can ask, can't you?
Symptoms
I am finding the lists of symptoms on websites like the Mayo Clinic to be a little too dispassionate. I suppose they have to be "clinical," but they are not descriptive.
Do you ever feel as if someone is sitting on your chest? As if you either cannot breathe, (even though you are breathing in and out steadily) or as if the air you are breathing is not enough? As if it were poisoned?
On the edge of tears for the full day? Feeling the sob simmering in your chest ready to burst up and out?
Do you feel afraid but afraid of nothing in particular? Does your heart hammer away in your chest throughout the day? Do your hands shake. Do tiny sounds of terror squeek out of you before you can stop them?
Do you find yourself suddenly "waking up" from long periods of blankness where your mind simply went grey and wordless? Do you look at the clock surprised to find that hours have passed? That it is night and you did not see the daylight fading?
Do you find the presence of others intolerable? Do you both fear and crave solitude? Do you want to tell your friends to leave you alone because the pressure of appearing fine for their sake is exhausting you?
Do you wake in the morning and groan to find another day is presenting itself, like a hill to climb? Do you dream of escape and wake only to find the world is a prison?
Do you ever feel as if someone is sitting on your chest? As if you either cannot breathe, (even though you are breathing in and out steadily) or as if the air you are breathing is not enough? As if it were poisoned?
On the edge of tears for the full day? Feeling the sob simmering in your chest ready to burst up and out?
Do you feel afraid but afraid of nothing in particular? Does your heart hammer away in your chest throughout the day? Do your hands shake. Do tiny sounds of terror squeek out of you before you can stop them?
Do you find yourself suddenly "waking up" from long periods of blankness where your mind simply went grey and wordless? Do you look at the clock surprised to find that hours have passed? That it is night and you did not see the daylight fading?
Do you find the presence of others intolerable? Do you both fear and crave solitude? Do you want to tell your friends to leave you alone because the pressure of appearing fine for their sake is exhausting you?
Do you wake in the morning and groan to find another day is presenting itself, like a hill to climb? Do you dream of escape and wake only to find the world is a prison?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)