Hi folks.
Had a bit of a mad year and half. Our daughter has ASD (Asperger's) - diagnosed about a year after she began seeing a psychologist at CAHMS which started around the time she left primary school. The last 6 months of her primary school is when she started falling apart (we always suspected she was a little 'demanding/hard work' growing up but nothing more at the time. Those 6 months were a struggle to get her into school.
Initially she went in for around 2 weeks at her new High School but in the end it ended up being me literally physically dragging her in (she'd be in a flood of tears). That couldn't go on...to cut a long story short she was eventually diagnosed with ASD (high functioning Asperger's) and missed at least a year of school. She's now in a special small hospital school (Leo Kelly in Rusholme) and is currently just about making half days (but misses many lessons...but she's still top of the class without doing barely any lessons). She's a selective mute there (it's odd when I'm sometimes there with her). At home she's like Richard Pryor (with the language to match...which is had to be let of as that's her way of letting of steam). She's had suicidal ideations and is also on 150mg of Sertraline (which is being reviewed as I really don't think it's working). She can be either curled up in a depressing ball or calling out 'motherfuckers'...she has razor sharp wit - v bright. She's also having trouble with her personal hygiene - it's yet another fight to get her to shower (she sometimes has that aroma you'd drastically avoid if it was on a bus/shop. I also believe she's manipulating her mother (more of that in a minute)...she can't bring herself to tell her off...and of course I'm the bad cop...it's all carrot for her - really don't think this is helping.
I often think a good weekend with 'the SAS' would help rather than the overtly 'walking on rice paper' approach...but perhaps I'm being old fashioned.
Around 18 months ago I had a contact from an adoption agency (I was adopted as a baby but I was never inclined to go and source them out). My adoptive father died when I was 11 but my adoptive mother is still going strong at 78.
This time the contact seemed a little more 'relentless' (in the nicest possible way) so I decided to go ahead and speak with the agency. I eventually ended up speaking to a woman who works in the agency (this is in Nottingham) and she brought through the documents. The birth mother had died a few months earlier (she apparently could never face it up to it all) but the birth father wanted to get in touch and it turns out I had two brothers (both from the same parents - so full brothers - one older, one younger - who they actually kept as they eventually married). As it happens, they've quickly become firm friends and we message each other almost every day...very, very similar...
That was a bit of a headfuck...a reboot of my life in some ways. Adding the difficulties with my daughter it was an...interesting, testing time.
Then last Christmas (2017) my parter and I separated after 20 years (we have three children). We never married so no divorce issues...probably clues in the fact we never did tie the knot.
This one hit me like a rock falling on my head. NYE (when it happened...I kind of forced her hand as it was going to be discussed in the new year. Strange NYE...kind of a mix of numbness and WTF...
The next few days were terrible however and I ended up having a complete mental breakdown. I'd say I was inches away from being sectioned...I've had down moments before but nothing on this scale - quite difficult to explain unless you've been through it (I'd say it hit me more than my dad's death when I was young).
I'd been a little depressed for a couple of years in all honesty...I didn't see it as depression (I tend to have a sunny out look when I'm out and about) but it transpired later on it was some personal anxiety issues, life plan issues...the whole lot really (in my mid 40's). I had a bit of CBT (the first fall down a year or two before the split) and that helped, but it's pretty clear it was environmental issues/relationship issues that were the ultimate cause.
A few days into January last year, my (now) ex drove me to the doctors (I was still numb...not particularly able to speak well) and I was immediately prescribed Sertraline (I'd previously turned this away a year or so - thinking I could just run more, and remain heathy...stubbornness over meds I guess). I had to move back to my mothers for a while...just hid away from everybody...absolutely torrid time. Fortunately I still have good friends down there, one (old best mates really) still lives near my mother. I'd pop round every evening and we'd chat and go running...I was having suicidal ideations at this stage. I'd lost a rack of weight and whilst not self harming, my face was sometimes bruised...I guess that's where 'beating yourself up' comes from. Only took one pic during that stage (on a webcam chat to my middle daughter)...christ...not good.
I'd live at my mother's in the week then eventually pop up to see the children in Manchester at the weekends...I missed them terribly. I was also 'theoretically' homeless and visited the CAB at one stage to see what options I had...I could barely function never mind work.
Eventually I returned (as a guest really) to the family home. No chance the family were moving out...and I wouldn't want them to. Also transpires my ex probably had an affair just before we separated (online, long distance but eventually met). Living back in the family home (a home I'd practically rebuilt//refurbed/grand designed the interiors) I was privy to some details which almost finished me off (she was dating again - the affair guy's wife - a guy 15 years older than her - had found out about it...I actually felt really sorry for her rather than me). I kept hoping...dreaming we'd get back together...meanwhile she's away at the weekends with new dates/evenings out. I guess she was getting a lot out of her system...I understand that now. One time when she set out on a date, I nearly puked up (all odd emotions).
My doc advised me that by 6 months on sertaline (lowest dose of 50mg) I'd feel the best I could on them...and lo and behold, I felt better about myself in a long time.
Around this time I was getting back to myself...in fact over time I was feeling better than I'd ever felt in my life. Instead of hitting the drink and pushing myself further down, the weeks after the split I stopped drinking (I didn't actually have a drink for 6 months from Jan to June...then I'd have the occasional beer/wine) started eating far healthier (lots of fruit and veg) and stepped up my running. I ran one night back in Nottingham that started off as a 5k and I carried on running till I did a half marathon...on a cold, wet dark night in February.
Eventually I started to 'shop online' for potential dates (the usual app) and got talking to a few. This was an amazing boost to my ego in all fairness. I met some wonderful people...helped sooth over a lot of pain. Part of the trouble with Sertaline is that it can lower the sex drive (mines quite high in all fairness...) and stalls ejaculation (I'd be yanking it down to a bloody stump...talking 30 mins+).
This obviously doens't translate well when one is with a new date...I never explained why...perhaps I should've done.
Today...one year on I'm about to book in with my doctor who advised returning in a year to discuss my withdrawal from Sertaline. I'm not going to miss the extreme tiredness and dizziness I experience with this tablets (and I can't really drink much alcohol on them). However, I'm a completely different person as of today. My confidence is at an all time high (historically low...more of an introvert than extrovert - suffered pretty badly with shyness growing up). I'm amazed at this new me. My 'OCD/Perfectionist/Control Freak' has subsided a bit and will happily chat away to anyone I bump into on the street (we got a dog for our daughter's Autism...but it's helped me too...despite being someone who would never as much as stroke a bloody dog!).
My neat freak nature has returned a little (though in fairness, my ex is the complete antithesis of domesticated...wipe your feet on the way out - hence a lot of friction over the years). I've met some wonderful women (and meeting somebody this week as it happens).
I guess the point of this was to find out what the long term effects are. I'm not worried I'm going to fall low when I eventually extract myself from the meds. but more this 'new me' disappears. I'm hazarding a guess that all I've been through has actually empowered me as a person...and I can release myself from the crutch of the tablets (I've tried researching whether the brain can 'learn' a form of behaviour from them but can find little anecdotal evidence to support this. I'll probably be seeing my doc this week to start the withdrawal (I have lots of questions).
I'm still running (although I have a labral tear in my hip - I have to do lots of core training every day at home to support this) eating healthy and may join a gym.
Apologies...that's quite some text above - but thanks for listening to the end...good to get this stuff off your chest.
Cheers.
