Psych!

The first time I saw a psychologist, a few years ago now, I left the aappointment feeling more hurt than when I hard started. When I was fresh and new to diabetes I had some anxiety over hypos, the adjustments I had to make to my daily routine and the constant worry that had fit itself into my handbag right next to the glucose tablets, taking itself everywhere that I did.

I was laughed at when I talked about my fear of hypos and the impact it had on my life. "My brother in law has Type 1 Diabetes" this psychologist said to me. "It's hilarious to watch someone having a hypo. The things they do are very funny to see".

The session was ended (there wasn't even a point in trying to fix that mess) and I never went back for another. An offer for a future appointment was declined.

For the next few years I was ok, I didn't have a need to visit any mental health practitioners. My anxiety was well controlled through techniques I had learnt years earlier at CBT sessions (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) and the more hypos I had, the more I felt comfortable in my ability to deal with them. The fear that I wouldn't be able to treat them dissipated.

At the end of last year I reached out for help again. My anxiety was still well under control, but I had dealt with a lot and I knew that the way I felt - tired, uninterested in my usual activities (including writing!), sad, crying over silly little things, unmotivated, uncaring about myself and wanting to withdraw socially - was not my normal. 

So I made an appointment with a GP, asked for a care plan, and found myself the name of a psychologist who I was told was much more understanding about diabetes. 

I walked in with a huge knot in my stomach, terrified that my first session wouldn't work out. I left knowing I had found *the one*. The right psychologist for me.

Just as we have partners in life, I think we also need to have partners in health care. After all, some of our health professionals are walking a very intimate road with us. They know things about our bodies or minds that even our closest family and friends don't.

My new psychologist know Type 1. She shared that her daughter has type 1 - and my 'judgement' barrier immediately flipped down.

I have my next appointment this week. I'm looking forward to it almost as much as I am looking forward to seeing my DE (and I seriously love seeing my DE!).

I find it so much easier to care for me if I have the right team helping me to care for me.

So here's to self-care in 2018 - a better year than 2017.

Fresh

I thought I was ready to 'dip my toes' into life last year. I was wrong. I don't think this was a constructive thought for me, when in fact I actually needed to fall apart.  Why did I think I had to push myself to start small when I didn't want to?

Last year was an awful year for me. There were so many things that were going on that I didn't have the clarity of mind to properly express or emotionally deal with.

I learnt that even events that people consider 'happy', can be quite stressful, emotionally draining and contribute to poor mental health and inability to cope with life in your usual way.

In no particular order, last year I: bought my first house with my husband (incurring a major mortgage), moved, experienced the deaths of loved ones in our immediate family, had significant job stability changes with multiple levels of adjustment, changed job roles, adopted a cat, experienced illness and changes to my usual health, and sought help for depression.

When you add these stressors to a chronic illness, things can spiral. Actually, those stressors on their own are enough, never mind my diabetes!

I can't say I coped well with all the changes in my life last year. I can't say that I was 'strong' and that I said and did the right things the whole time. I can't say I considered my diabetes in these situations and managed everything well. I can't say that I carried on despite everything.

Because I didn't. I let my life turn to shit. I wallowed in misery and a constant feeling of being insecure about the present moments I was living in and my future. There was so much for me to comprehend that I didn't know where to start. I tried a few times but the 'get up and go' attitude I usually rely on had gone walking.

I ended 2017 on my couch, miserably ill (an extra Christmas gift from my lovely nephew) and reflecting on all the hard, awful things that had happened. I started 2018 in my bed, miserably ill, and sound asleep. I didn't make a new years resolution. Instead I set some self care goals. I identified what I would like to do for myself. What could I do to make myself feel secure in my life again?

I am doing little things. In December I sought professional help for my mental health. Last week I bought a nice new work outfit and paid way more money than my cheap ass would normally part with. Then I wore that nice new work outfit and felt awesome.  Today I am writing a blog, because depression stopped me from doing my usual favourite activities and GODDAMN, I MISS WRITING. I was wary about writing again. I first wanted to write a few weeks ago but didn't have the confidence in myself to know where to start, or to know that I could continue.

What would I write about? Would it be all doom and gloom? Well, I guess it sort of is today. Pen to paper (or fingers to keys) is how I have always expressed myself. So maybe I let the doom and gloom leach from my fingertips and become absorbed by the bright machine screen.

I can only do the things that I can do, no matter how slow that process is.