Depression baths, Cleaning, Hormones and other stuff

So despite telling both my mother and the boy child to wake me up before they left because I couldn't over sleep to see the doctor, they both left the house in stealth mode this morning. How boy child actually managed this is a bit of a mystery based on the murder scene that he left behind in the bathroom. Mum claims that it is not her fault that I didn't wake up because she delegated the task to said boy child which shows that my mother has clearly taken complete leave of her senses and / or that she is not a morning person either.  Fortunately I did wake on time (just) and then had that weird sense of hypocrite in which I put underwear on and made a vague effort to be presentable for the doctor even though in all honesty that's the last thing I felt like doing... I had steeled myself for a fight based on my previous experiences of doctors and my mental health but I have to say that I ended up weeping buckets for once not through frustration but with relief because the man actually listened to what I had to say about the up down, yo yo, whore's drawers scenarios, the sleeping not sleeping thing, the not wanting to kill myself and the feeling either everything or nothing but there being no middle ground. Although asking me my career (which just incenses me) he was the first GP who didn't say "how about some sick leave?" and in all he was pretty cool. (GP's like Doctor's are cool) This meant I could be really honest about a lot of the stuff that I don't say or admit to and I actually felt like I got something out of the whole session. He did (bless him) sheepishly push the "depression" questionnaire across the desk at me, but when I said mark everything as 4 except the suicide question which is a 1 and by the way that'll make 14 he did the nod of understanding about how many gazillion squillion times I have filled it in that I know the questions and my responses by heart. After much discussion I have finally joined the "prozac nation" which thanks to his information sharing and honesty I can cope with for a while, especially since we talked about chemical imbalances and low moods and a whole heap of stuff that no other GP / psychologist / therapist / psychiatrist / other appropriate "professional" has bothered to actually tell me.

Discussed this at length with friend who has no belief system in depression / low mood / etc unless it is explained to her pictorially. Which is why I was highly amused by her bath analogy that I now feel the need to illustrate badly through the medium of paint; possibly because I spent a lot of time reading Hyperboleandahalf who makes like the most sense ever. (Friend will assume that I am taking the piss but actually I kind of liked the theory)

So it goes something like this:

We are all baths, okay fine our brains / minds are baths.. and more to the point a "normal" healthy active mind is a full bath, with bubbles and soap and steam and just lush. (Please note I do not have a bath but if I did it would be one with feet, also I can't draw; additionally the bath analogy does not have to include a person in said bath but I can't draw bubbles!)

Sometimes when people get ill (for the purposes of this description we are talking mental health but it works all ways) it is like the plug fell out of the bath and all the water starts to drain away and the bubbles fade and the water that is left is a bit murky and slightly grey  and this is why we feel a bit or a lot (dependent on drainage in your area) miserable....

DISCLAIMER: I am clearly not an artist or a health professional so the following information is how I understood it not how it is necessarily explained by "proper trained people"  but this bit is important for the remainder of pictures...

There is a difference between what doctor's term as depression which is a chemical imbalance and low mood. Don't ask me what it is I was not listening that hard....

but..

If the right treatment is prescribed at the right time then the bath starts re-filling and although this might be a bit confusing at first eventually you reach Utopia:

(which is probably a lot more happier than this except I did already say I can't draw...

Now in my case; because I am egocentric and don't understand anyone else...

I previously had lots and lots and lots of talking therapy; which is in part because I refused to do the drugs because they make me want to kill myself and I actually don't feel like that even when I feel crappy..

This works for about three days because I leave and feel worse than I did before and then I think "hey I didn't feel this bad before" which makes me feel better for 3 days and then NOTHING... or more accurately exactly how shit I felt before

In terms of a bath analogy...

I get a type of therapy which in theory is good, but it's not enough on it's own... I get the right treatment for some of the problem but because of the "chemical" imbalance the talking stuff doesn't get a chance to work because the plug is missing from the bath. Therefore my bath can't get refilled even thought the treatment is sound and I feel good for a few days, it doesn't last because there isn't anything else in place (or the plug for this description... therefore.... (did I mention I am talking about myself?)

The medication which as illustrated as above we HAVE to call drugs because it rhymes with plugs... acts as a plug so that when the nice therapy happens and tries to refill my bath it doesn't all escape down the drain pipe and then this also makes you feel a bit weird, cos you haven't experienced it in FOREVER

and then you can be like all the shiny people and experience this:

In theory! (natch I will report back and let you know?)

After all of this and feeling weirdly good that someone understood what I was trying to communicate and didn't just hand out drugs or make me feel bad or all the other stuff, I decided that I needed to clean stuff. This is also because this acts as a distraction. Hubby who has to live with me most of the time and yet still (kinda) likes me decided to cheer me up but giving up his sacred tool chest so that I can be a crafter "on the go" (don't worry there are no more crappy drawings / illustrations from this point in I swear)

Of course I had to spray it in order to make it mine... he did get a bit pissed that in the bleak mid winter I wore his coat and shoes and got both thoroughly sodden. This then meant that I had to clean out my stash for like the 13th time since I have been 33, which in turn means that the "front front room" which I have probably cleaned twice as many times ended up looking like this...

I tried to engage mum in the process but since she has her own drugs her OCD tendencies have significantly reduced and it is not as much fun winding her up with mess and chaos as it used to be. I did enforce audience participation by putting her in charge of piles (she hates these as much as she hates Virgo's who incidentally have tendencies to make piles) and she did complain about it and then went through the rubbish which it took me a LONG time to actually throw out only to listen to her try to talk me out of it; which goes against every rule she had when I was a child and living under "her" roof.

It took 5 and a half hours to reach this:

Which I'm not that fond of because it looks odd and also I purposely cut out the rest of the "front front room" because I have to tidy that tomorrow (but it's not craft related so it does not count)

and then this:

Which I am quite fond of because like Hogwarts or the Tardis it has hidden depths and secrets and hiding spots and now it has naked girls on it. This is good because when I eventually get bored of it and give it back to hubby he doesn't have to redecorate on account of the semi naked lasses. Also I can craft anywhere any time...

Close up of my lovely burlesque ladies...

In other news because I keep banging on about the second head on my face and feeling unbelieved.... here is a picture

EWWWW GROSS WARNING

This damn thing has been on my face since last year... and I stuck things on it and in it but it kind of matches the stupid hair... hubby says its hormone related, I think that if it carries on much longer I am going to use the tweezers that I found in a cracker today to give myself a facectomy; real word people...

EDIT: I made hubby read this to see if the depression thing made sense... he said it did but demanded I added an addendum... which is why I love him..