What’s In A Word?

If you’re like me, you’ll struggle to find the word. You might just hit a blank, and not for the life of you be able to come up with the word you want, or maybe you might blurt out a completely different word than the one you intended. Where did that come from?

It’s called brain fog. Or cognitive dysfunction. Or cognitive impairment. Maybe specific to your illness, it might be fibro(myalgia) fog or maybe chemo(therapy) fog. I’m sure there are others related to other illnesses. I battle with brain fog thanks to two chronic illnesses (fibromyalgia and Graves’ Disease).

They said it might be a problem when I have a flare of my fibro, but actually, it is a constant for me.

I used to be paid to talk. I was employed to train people how to be managers, and so I was either in front of a classroom, talking all day, or other days I might be on the telephone for most of the day planning training programmes.  Even outside of my work, I talked. Leading groups.

I spoke fluently, without hesitation. It didn’t worry me whether I was speaking to one person or 200. Much of my speaking was off-the-cuff and I would only have minimal notes to guide me. I was good at this. It was my chosen career until severe mental illness cut me down, but that’s another story.

Now, I struggle to string a sentence together. I stutter, I hesitate, I lose the words I want to use, or completely wrong words come out of my mouth. It doesn’t matter whether I speak to one person or a group, I am constantly battling my brain to come out with the right words at the right time.

I feel like an idiot. I imagine what people must think of me. They would have no idea that I am actually an intelligent person because I really do sound like an idiot.

Worse yet, is speaking to people for whom English is their second language. Most of the staff in the dementia facility where my mother lives are immigrants. My problem is that I struggle so much to say what I want to say, but if they don’t understand me, I have to start all over again. They are trying to guess what I want to say, and I get flustered and my speech gets worse.

I am so frustrated by this today but it is like this every day. My inclination is to isolate myself, so that I don’t have to speak. But I can’t do that. I don’t want to answer the phone and actually fear that it will ring.

This is a constant problem for me. Anxiety is up, so is depression because I am so frustrated with the simple task of speaking. For those who think I should be out there working, I couldn’t work. I couldn’t do my job, because my job is talking. I retrained as a social worker, but wouldn’t manage to do that either. I just constantly stumble over my words. (By the way, there are other substantial barriers to me working, but my speech is just one more invisible problem.)

And that isn’t the Cate I always knew. What the f*ck happened to her?

Thanks for reading

 

Cate

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‘DepressionandAnxiety’

Have you noticed how some people talk about depression and anxiety as if they are one condition? Or maybe that everyone who has one must have the other? It has been annoying me for a while now, but I think I’ve worked out why. Stigma. I’ll get to that in a while.

Before we get to it, have a look at this…

This is a television advertisement currently playing in New Zealand. from Depression.org, a mental health promotion organisation. I think they do a great job in spreading information about depression particularly. But I find some of what they share is a little misleading (including an unrelated idea put forward in this advertisment that everyone has this ‘A-ha!’ moment as a turning point to recovery. Really? Reading a book to my child will cure my depression or anxiety? But we’ll leave that for now. It’s not the point of my post).

Lately, the advertisements have been adding anxiety into the picture as if it is a simple add-on to depression. It’s fair to say that many people who are depressed also have anxiety, just as many people with anxiety also have depression. But it is not a given, and they are two quite different mental illnesses. Instead of speaking of

Depression and Anxiety

it seems more like

DepressionandAnxiety

It may well be one of those cases that you have to be seeing the range of advertisements put up by Depression.org all the time, and then you see that they run the two disorders together constantly. But maybe too, you have to be inside my head. And that is where the stigma lies.

It’s my stigma. My stigma against anxiety. Yes, for years I have been adamantly denying that I have any struggle with anxiety. Actually, I had completely convinced myself of this lie. Depression? Yes. Anxiety? Absolutely not.

Over this past year, I have been starting to realise just how much anxiety has me trapped inside a little box, refusing to let me live my life to the full.

There, I’ve said it. You have no idea how much of a big deal this is (for me).

Note to self: Cate, the world is not going to cave in for having said this.

I think that for a long time I didn’t want to have anxiety, because of memories of a friend who struggled with anxiety back when I was in my late teens. When I started to have mental health problems in my late twenties I always used to steer the conversation away from the possibility of battling anxiety along with other illnesses, because I (subconsciously) thought of it as how I had seen it in my friend. And I admit that was not the way I wanted to see myself.

While I’m sure the therapists I saw along the way knew I had anxiety, it was never something I was willing to accept. It was okay for anyone else to have anxiety, but not me. And while those therapists might have known the truth, I don’t remember any of them pushing me on the subject.

See? Stigma. (Ouch).

This week I read an excellent article, 11 Things Others Don’t Realize You Are Doing Because Of Your High Functioning Anxiety.  I’m not so convinced my anxiety is “high functioning” right now. I always get caught up on that term and never know where the line gets drawn, but the article is well worth reading.

It made me realise that when I postponed an important doctor’s appointment this week that I had waited over three months for, that there was a pattern developing in my life. I postponed the appointment on account of pain that was going to make it difficult for me to get to the appointment (it would involve a bit of walking because I wouldn’t be able to get a car park close by).

While the issue of pain was authentic, it was perhaps the angst over the issue of getting there and back (with a lot of foot and leg pain in tow) that had worked me into a state of anxiety. It wasn’t until later that I thought that perhaps the pain was all part of the anxiety I felt. Or maybe even the anxiety triggered the fibromyalgia pain. There were other issues related to the appointment that had me anxious too, but it’s fair to say that at the time, I wasn’t keen to accept it. Actually, I just didn’t even see it.

I have a whole lot more to work through in coming to terms with anxiety and how it affects my life. I realise that it has me backed into a corner and that while I thought I was managing my mental health okay right now, I realise that corner is getting tighter and darker.  Somehow I need to do something about it, and I suspect I’m going to need some help. That might sound brave and self-aware but this has taken me (gulp!) 25-odd years to even admit. I have a long way to go.

Ironically, from where I started this post, I want to finish with a quote from David Karp. He is writing about depression in his book ‘Speaking of Sadness’ but I think his words apply to me equally whether to depression or anxiety. I have ‘doctored’ it appropriate to my emphasis and hope the author will forgive me.

“Much of depression’s anxiety’s pain arises out of the recognition that what might make one feel better–human connection– seems impossible in the midst of a paralyzing episode of depression anxiety. It is rather like dying from thirst while looking at a glass of water just beyond one’s reach ”
― David A. Karp
 

Thanks for reading!

 

Cate