Getting By.

I'm slowly rebuilding my strength. I've spent almost a whole year doing as little as possible - except for one thing - focusing on myself.


About this time last year I had so much going on in my life - blogs, reviews, websites - building and maintaining my own as well as developing new sites for friends and family, research, product reviews, contractual obligations, reading, maintaining the FibroMen site, trying to build the FibroMates site and their associated Facebook, Google+ and Twitter accounts - and all the while feeling worse and worse, suffering from agonising pain that not even morphine could counter and sinking further and further into depression and at the same time holding down a physically demanding job and trying to cope with a disabled wife and a disabled daughter, it all just became too much and one day I sought refuge in the form of a little too much medication - cocodamol, morphine, fluoxetine (Prozac) and alcohol. Not an overdose, merely a combination that was too much for my fragile state of mind to handle. I imploded.


The meltdown was so swift and my mood so dark that I shut out everything and everyone - including my wife and, to a lesser degree, my daughter - quite literally overnight. I became obnoxious. My marriage crumbled.


Apparently my whole persona changed. At work I maintained my old jovial, friendly and helpful state, but at home I was rude, indifferent and bullying. I was simply awful. I didn't want to be around my family and I tried my best, it would seem, to make them dislike me so that I could have a valid reason for leaving - there was a deeper issue going on which I can't/won't explain here, but those of you who know me personally are aware of what this issue was. All I will say is that many years, many decades, of pent up emotions and past grievances came bubbling to the surface. I hated myself, my life and everything/everyone in it. I painted on my smile and went to work for sixteen hours a week.


Now I'm getting by. My pain levels are at an all time high because I dare not take morphine again, but I'm getting by without it. I started going to a gym in late summer last year and, whilst this may be adding to my pain, or at least perpetuating it, I have fixed in my mind that the pain is a good sign instead of coming from the unknown like fibromyalgia, and I'm finding it beneficial to improving my strength so I can still work sixteen hours a week in a busy retail role. I look better too, so to hell with the pain!!


As for my marriage - well, I'm still at home. We still row, and my wife is keen to remind me how awful I was, but we're getting by.....

Depression & Fibromyalgia - An Admission.

I know, I know, we've been here before!

I wrote way back in October / November of last year about how I was battling some really dark clouds in my life. I put it down to turning fifty and being in constant pain and I was determined to overcome it without the need for medication.

Just after Christmas I thought I'd beaten it. Things began to look brighter. I was still in chronic pain and  I had, in the time since I last wrote about being depressed, been prescribed Oramorph to take alongside my Cocodamol - despite my being unwilling to go down the drug guinea pig route again. But, up until last week, everything seemed fine. I'd beaten my depression.

Then, a week or so ago, I woke up feeling really miserable one day. Nothing specific that I could put my finger on as the cause, I just felt glum. I thought I might be getting another cold and brushed it aside, but I was very snappy with the family and really easily irritated.

On Tuesday my poor, long-suffering wife, made some innocuous remark about something (I can't even remember what it was) and I blew my stack. Said some awful things and really lost control. The worst of it was that I lost control in front of our thirteen year old daughter. 

Now, even when I'm in the wrong and I know I was in the wrong on this occasion, I'm a stickler for not backing down and I used the old "well if you hadn't said / done such and such, I would never have said what I said" chestnut - which only served to amplify my wife's anger towards me and the row went on for several days. In fact, it was still going on this morning - six days later.

I had a pre-booked appointment to see my GP to review my medication at 10am today and when I walked into his consulting room everything (apart from the row) was fine. I sat down and he asked how I'd been and I just burst into tears and let it all pour out. I felt such an idiot. Normally when people ask how I've been I say "Fine" or "Not so bad" - it's a standard for fibro sufferers the world over. Today I let the standard fall. My wall, usually so impenetrable, collapsed to dust and the flood barriers opened.

Clearly my depression had not been beaten. I'd just bottled it all up, put the cork in the bottle over Christmas and New Year only for it to explode today in a spectacular, embarrassing and totally non-British way!

I walked out of the room fifteen minutes later with a prescription for Duloxetine in one hand and a wet tissue in the other, dabbing tears away from my bloodshot eyes as I walked into the waiting room, where my wife sat waiting with a smile on her face. We wrapped our arms around each other and hugged. I blubbed a pitiful, guilt-laden "Sorry" into her shoulder. 

She'd known all along that this day would come.

Why So SAD?

We are all affected by the weather. Everyone has experienced the joy of a warm summer's day or the rush to safety from a storm. The seasons affect our moods and our general attitude to life. Summer warmth relaxes us and helps to soothe pains. The winter chills us to the core and makes life more challenging - keeping warm, finding shelter, sourcing food (perhaps not these days, but our ancestors suffered!) Spring gives us hope and Autumn eases us into the harshness of winter once more.

As a chronic pain sufferer I know only too well the effect of the weather on my symptoms but as for my mindset - well I'm discovering this now.

Those who read my recent post on FibroBlog (Fibromyalgia & Depression) will know that I'm currently fighting a major depression. I don't know if it was brought on by me reaching my half-century in October or if it was because I've lived with fibromyalgia for so, so long, I just know that it's hit me really hard - and it hit me just as the nights began to draw in and the weather turned colder. And that is unusual for me. It's a change to my usual approach to the winter - I have always loved the cold, dark winter nights. Listening to the wind, watching the snow fall, seeing people scurrying for shelter - all from the comfort of my living room, with my family, a roaring fire and a nice hot cup of cocoa (the romantic in me!)

But this year I'm dreading it - quite literally - the prospect of another three months of dark nights, bad weather and yes, even the cosy nights in, has got me all miserable and moody, Battling my way to work three days a week on icy or snowy roads has never been a favourite pastime, but this year I am considering calling in sick for the whole winter. I want to hibernate, shut myself away in a dark room and not come out again until the spring has firmly sprung. It's depression, right? Well, possibly.

Or, it might be SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) a condition I've heard of but never really understood. SADA - The Seasonal Affective Disorder Association says that "for about 21% of the UK population, some of the symptoms of SAD cause discomfort and a noticeable change in mood, but not serious suffering. This is called "Sub-syndromal SAD" or "Winter Blues". For a further 8%, SAD is a much more serious illness which prevents normal function without appropriate treatment. SAD is a complex illness with a wide range of symptoms."

I know a lot of my readers are 'overseas' visitors but I'd love to hear from anyone who has experienced either "Winter Blues" or the more debilitating symptoms of Seasonal Affective Disorder, and how it might impact someone who also suffers with a chronic pain condition like fibromyalgia. I know I cannot be diagnosed as SAD as a person needs to experience at least three consecutive years of the symptoms I'm currently exhibiting, but I wonder how the advent of spring will affect my mood. Obviously I'm hoping I'll be over this current bout of depression well before then - but if I'm not it will be interesting to see if I'm hopping around the fields with the hares come March 2016!

(This post was originally shared on My Fibro Blog )

Fibromyalgia and Depression

Having an invisible illness seems to lead to other invisible illnesses.

I have fibromyalgia. I also have IBS / Crohn's Disease. As my fibromyalgia was diagnosed first I assume that the anxiety and stress that placed on me, both at home and in my work, led to the turmoil in my guts. And it's been that way ever since.

Almost thirteen years have passed since I was first diagnosed with fibromyalgia and, in that time, I cannot remember a day when I didn't have symptoms from it. Of course it ranged from mild to moderate, moderate to severe, but always there. After four years of constant pain I eventually began to experience symptoms of IBS which, I assumed, were related to the lower back pain and I instantly thought I had cancer. After many weeks of putting it off I eventually went to see my GP and after a few more tests I was diagnosed as having Crohn's Disease an incurable inflammatory bowel disease. Oddly all tests since initial diagnosis have shown no inflammation so my gastroenterologist has 'downgraded' my condition to Irritable Bowel Syndrome - but it affects me no less because of this downgrading!

So, having lived with chronic pain for almost thirteen years and bowel disturbances for the past eight and a half years, I thought I'd had my quota of 'invisible' illnesses but it appears that I was wrong. For the Gods have decided to test me, yet again, to see how I cope with another layer of invisibility.

This new invisible illness came out of nowhere - as did the other two - but rather than hit me with symptoms all of a sudden - fine one minute, stricken the next - this cloak of invisibility crept up on me over a period of about two weeks. I'm talking about depression.

Obviously, when you live with chronic pain 24/7 for 365 days a year you're going to have times when you feel a little down and fed up with yourself. I've experienced times like that before but I've always snapped out of it fairly quickly and resumed as "normal" a life as I could under the circumstances.

But this depression has gone much deeper than my previous bouts of 'fed-uppedness' (if that's a word?) This depression has really knocked me for six. This depression has been the most invisible of all of my invisible illnesses - with fibro and IBS my family and work colleagues can see me physically wincing with pain or running off to the loo or holding my guts - sometimes they can hear my symptoms too, so as far as invisibility goes they're somewhat apparent to the outside world.

Depression is a whole new ball of wax. Externally there is nothing to see. I laugh at funny TV shows, I act the fool and joke around at home and make pleasantries with my customers and colleagues at work. My face and body show no outward signs of being ill.

In my head I want to explode. I want to shout at people who annoy me - the ignorant customers who don't say please and thank you when I have to fawn over them like they were royalty, the stupid ones who change their mind halfway through a transaction or wander off to get something else leaving me with a growing queue. I want to curl up into a little ball and hide away instead of facing these people. At home I join in because I have an obligation to do so, not always because I want to. I'm short tempered with the ones I love most and I hate myself even more because of it - and so it builds up and up and up until, one day, I know it surely must explode. Yet all the time I fight it so that, externally, my face looks 'real' and 'normal' just as I've tried to hide my chronic pain and gut turbulence for so many years. I try to be a valued member of society but I value myself less and less each day - I feel unworthy of praise, of love, of life itself. Things I love to do are being abandoned - art, drawing, photography, cooking for my family all feel like the most arduous of chores now whereas, six weeks ago, they were my life.

Depression is the most heinous of invisible diseases because there isn't a scrap of evidence of its existence. It's all in my head. I should snap out of it. I should think positively. It could be worse. I could be paraplegic - all the things we're told never to say to someone with depression I've told them to myself over and over again - and it's right they are definitely the wrong things to say to someone with depression because I can't snap out of it, or think positively and it couldn't be worse (surely) and I'm sure most paraplegics feel the joy of life sometimes and I know it's all in my head because it's a mental illness, to do with the brain, which is found, in most people, in the head!

I have not, as yet sought treatment for this depression, prefering to try and fight it myself - but I think I'm losing the battle. My reasons for not seeking treatment are that my GP thinks I'm a malingerer already and I'm worried about the side effects any medication might have on my already feeble guts. I know in my heart what I need to do - I've told many people in my position in the past to get treatment as soon as possible so I'm going to have to bite the bullet........ before I take a bullet.

Welcome to H.M.P Fibromyalgia. You'll Never Leave.

Fibromyalgia is akin to a prison. Not a nice, open prison, or even a high security pampered lock-down with all the comforts of home. Oh no! Fibromyalgia is prison with hard labour. No chance of parole. No time off for good behaviour. No chance of ever regaining your freedom. Fibromyalgia is a lifer prison, with bells on!

HMP Fibromyalgia has everything you need to live a normal life, a lovely home, comfy furniture, nice surroundings, you even get to live with your family if you have one, you might even be allowed to work in a real job, for a while. In fact, from the outside, no one would ever know you had been convicted and sentenced to life. But, inside, it's a living nightmare, a daily (and nightly) walk through hell.

I was 'imprisoned' over twelve years ago, locked up by invisible, sadistic guards who seem to want to punish me for daring to dream of being pain-free, stabbing at my intestines, twisting my muscles and tendons to breaking point, forcing cotton-wool into my head, switching on my brain just when it wants to go to sleep, allowing me the strength to plan a family outing and then cruelly intensifying my pain levels on the day of the trip, or feeding me something which, ordinarily, does not upset my delicate gut lining - except on this occasion, denying me the very basic human right to be pain free and lead a 'normal' life. 

HMP Fibromyalgia is the most vile and terrifying of all prisons because it gives you the outward appearance of being free whilst surreptitiously removing all of your freedom.

The evil and sadistic invisible guards have the upper hand at all times. You never know they're there. You never know when they'll attack but attack they will, and it will be when you least expect it. This makes you anxious every day, and that anxiety never leaves you. You may be spared punishment for an hour, a day, a week or more, but the anxiety of an imminent attack never leaves you. This psychological torture, combined with constant pain, eventually breaks you and you become depressed - as I am now - adding yet another dimension to your life sentence in another wing of HMP Fibromyalgia.

Welcome to HMP Fibromyalgia - Depression Wing. We might let you leave one day.


Hang on, No, we won't.


Oh, alright then.


Nope, just kidding!.