Post #128 - Four Years On ... A Lift In The Gloom

Next month will mark four years since that eureka moment and I finally realised that I am autistic.  So much has happened during this time and I think that, finally, I am coming to terms with it all.  Recently I seem to have emerged from a fug of gloom and even reduced my Fluoxitine daily intake (an SSRI anti-depressant medication) from 30mg down to 20mg and I hope to be able to decrease it further down to 10mg during the next few months.

I'm not really sure what has happened in my brain recently, but it feels so much lighter and I'm more cheerful as a result.  Usually once the clocks go back in late October I am depressed as hell and used to think that it was related to the lack of sunlight or Seasonal Affected Disorder (SAD), this may still be so, but I really couldn't say.  I am also looking forward to Christmas(!) which is bizarre.  Bring on Macca singing Wonderful Christmastime I say.  In the video he's seen, with the other remaining members of Wings (namely Linda McCartney and Denny Laine) buying drinks in a festively-decorated Sussex public house.  Nice.

I am always grateful for supportive friends; a chosen few have stuck by me during the 'wilderness years'.  I cannot really say that I have a great deal of time for most people, but there are some truly wonderful people out there.

Post #27: Depression, Medication and Masking

When I write the term 'Behind The Mask' it puts me in mind of the 1980s song by guitar superhero Eric 'Slowhand' Clapton. There's an excellent lecture on the contents of the aforementioned rock star's bookcase which I once saw performed at one of the Boring Conferences, but seriously though ....

Masking is no joke: the act of hiding one's autistic traits is difficult, tiring and ultimately destructive. I can no longer do it: ergo I cannot function in certain atmospheres. "Why should you?" You may ask? "People are more aware of autism these days?" Well, they're not, they're really not.

I've been on antidepressants for the past eighteen months now: initially on Setraline, but that made me far too weary. Six months in my GP switched me to Fluoxitine; I take 40mg daily, but over the summer tried to reduce it to 20mg. On medical advice I'm back to 40mg.

Post #24 - A (Working) Day In The Life (Of An Aspie) - The Afternoon: Part One

After lunch it's usually straight into another meeting.  If they're small, then so much the better.  In the past I've had team meetings during this period and depending whom I'm working with or for, they're either good or bad.  I used to detest the ones which went around the delegates and asked them what they were working on - whatever I tended to say wasn't quite good enough.

Sometimes I'll have a terrible post postprandial dip at about 14:30 and will struggle to keep my eyes open.  It often depends what antidepressant I'm on and whether there's any natural light streaming into the room. PowerPoint presentations are the worst - have you ever heard of the term 'Death By PowerPoint?' Well, I feel like these images below and don't even get me started on people who ask questions following a two hour presentation.....

Post #2 - When You Know Something's Wrong, But You Cannot Prove It

Following on from my initial chat with the GP, I waited about four months to have a pre-assessment session with my local Mental Health Team.  This took place on a Thursday morning in the same satellite hospital my son was diagnosed in.  It was basically me, my husband and a social worker who had a series of set questions to ask me.  I'll admit it, I became very emotional throughout, especially when probed about my past history.  The concluding part was to complete the AQ test, you know, this one: http://aspergerstest.net/aq-test/  I scored within the clinical range for ASD and was referred on towards a full diagnosis.  I was informed that adult aspies don't really have any support available and that it would take absolutely ages.  Fair enough, this is the NHS, they are overburdened to say the least.



My mental health suffered during the months which followed.  I told my brusque boss, who couldn't have given a flying fig about autism and thought that it was just an excuse for me to slack off.  I walked out of my job with stress, I couldn't stop crying - I'd had enough.  My GP was sympathetic and I was prescribed antidepressants - Setraline to be precise.  At home I recuperated, often walking around the garden listening to Radio 4's Desert Island Discs on podcast to block out any extraneous noise - Aspies hate such things.  On the advice of the GP I self-referred for Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT) and had an introductory session.  It was interesting, but a whole load of the other delegates were mute and the others, well without breaking confidences, one was very aggressive towards me indeed when I posed a question about women feeling more guilt than men tend to.  Nice.

I returned to work a few weeks later, initially once a week.  Things were fine at first, but once I upped my hours once more, it began to slide.  The same problems arose: my performance was criticised and my self-esteem was at an all time low.  I walked out of the job once again a few months later, I'd had enough, I wanted to leave, permanently.  The GP signed me off once more and I was referred for counselling via the work programme.  I fell out with the first counsellor, some things just don't click.