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Diaries Expat Wannabe Mental Health

The Diaries: Illness and Loneliness

posted on August 10, 2014
[Note: this is not a happy post. I need to talk, and I reject the notion that you should put a positive spin on things for readers when the whole problem is that you can’t. This is how I feel, and I hate it, but there’s no reason I should be ashamed of it.]

There’s a lot about expat life I never thought would happen to me. I’m not exactly married to my “home” culture: though I’ve tried to do better in recent years, I’ve always — both internally and deliberately — disassociated myself from my nationality. Sort of like my legal name, my being Spanish is just that — letters on paper. It determines my legal status, and mostly makes things easier for me than they would be from someone coming to the UK from outside the European Union. I also have it easy because I’m white and don’t even look particularly ‘foreign.’ When deciding to move here, I didn’t have to take my race or religion into consideration, and I didn’t have to go through any bureaucratic bullshit. I just bought a flight ticket, renewed my (Spanish) ID, and set off for greener pastures.

(I’m leaving the cliché because one of the things I’ve always liked about England is how green it is. You get on a train and the countryside is all pretty, as opposed to miles and miles of ugly dry yellowish land.)

Obviously I knew it wouldn’t end there. I knew if I was going to really stay here permanently I’d have to deal with paperwork, find a GP, register as self-employed, eventually apply for dual citizenship, all that fun stuff. But I wasn’t going to be the victim of any hate crimes and I wasn’t going to get deported. All that holds true.

It also holds true that I adapted quickly to the schedule here, the earlier closing times, places being open on Sunday, light lunches in the early afternoon and no heavy meals until evening drew close. The past few days notwithstanding, I also really like that people go to bed early and rise early. In Spain, unless you’re elderly or have an early morning, or you’re five, it’s pretty weird to go to sleep before midnight, and I’ve found out over the past couple of years that my sleep schedule is all or nothing. Either I go to bed three hours earlier than usual or I’m fucked. “A little” doesn’t cut it.

I don’t miss the food, either. I’ve always been very simple in my eating habits. I like how easy it is to find orange juice with pulp (er, “juicy bits” — maybe the whole ‘being five’ thing is applicable here also…) and all the variants on seeded sliced bread and baked goods are pretty great, at least when I’m not fighting off nausea. Let’s quickly move on from this paragraph.

My point is, I never expected any kind of proper culture shock and I haven’t had any. I’ll try to post here and there about the little things I encounter that are weird to me, because apparently people like to read that stuff and I’m not one to turn down a chance to make a list, but mostly it’s just, you know, more diverse, the weather is bananas and London is massive… and hugely expensive to live in.

That’s when it starts to get to me that I’m an expat. I didn’t have any sort of separation anxiety when I moved to Madrid for college. It was awful, but it was awful because I was in a dorm and I had social anxiety. One of the main reasons for me moving country was to get away from my family. I love my mom and my sister, but they can both be really difficult to live with. My father is basically impossible. I still get glimpses of all this via Skype. I was never close with my extended family, and I didn’t have any friends at home. All the people I consider friends have always lived in a different country. I didn’t think living in the UK would be all that different.

Turns out it really, really is.

I want to start off by saying that I’m sick today, this weekend, this week — I decided to go off my antidepressants (paroxetine), and see how I fared without them before I decided if I wanted to stay off or try something new (mirtazapine). My GP quite visibly disagrees with this, and seeing how the last week has gone, I’m tempted to agree with her. But it was always supposed to be a ‘what if,’ not a ‘this is totally going to work out for me.’ I just wanted to see.

What I’ve seen is a whole lot of crying and fear and stress and anxiety and tears. I’ve been a walking meltdown for the past few days — god, it feels like weeks — and at this point I’ve probably broken into tears in every five-feet portion of the route between my bedroom and the Starbucks on South End Rd. Also, obviously, in my bedroom and at the Starbucks on South End Rd. Hopefully no one who’s seen that will judge my application whenever I get around to filling it out and giving it in. I need to reprint it. I need to reschedule my NIN appointment — again. I start out feeling like it’s a great idea and I’m going to get it and get all the help I need, and then the appointment draws near and I somehow sleep through it, and start thinking it’s completely useless.

Then again, I feel like everything is useless this week. I’m not going to get anywhere. The people who want to help me can’t, and the people who can help me don’t want to. I feel more and more like I’m pushing myself on people just because I want to know that if I end up not having a place one day, I’ll have a couch I’m welcome to sleep in. I can’t get a flat without a steady job and I can’t get a steady job without money for transport and the mental stability to start giving out my resume. Also, without a resume written up. I can’t get money without working, and I can’t work when I’m crying all the time.

And I’m alone. I feel so utterly, helplessly alone. I’m dreading my landlady coming back from her vacation because I’ll have to pay her and move back to the tiny room with all the noise, but I couldn’t find another place, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, I tried for two days and it killed me, and I’m really grateful that she’s letting me stay another month. But that’s the most she can do. I think it is, anyway. We’ve had some communication issues before.

I want to trust people, but I’m not given anything to trust. More and more I feel like I have to hide things about myself to get anywhere (because I’m lucky I can hide them, if I make a concerted effort, if I convince myself to do it) and there’s no certainty that it will work anyway.

I’m tired and I just want a place to hide for a few weeks. I’m so depressed I’m even considering going home, home where the cat is, home where I’d have to drag my luggage and lose whatever I’ve built for my blog and my photography career by not being where I’m supposed to be. And anyway I can’t register as self-employed at home because their monthly healthcare fee is basically what I’m spending on rent here. And there are no jobs there for me.

Maybe there aren’t any here for me, either, but at least there are ads I can apply to. And that chokes me again, because it means I have to stay here, because I’d have to find a place here, because how do I find a place here? Because I still want to hide somewhere for weeks, if someone will lend me their spare room. Because I feel weak and I want someone who’ll welcome a cry for help from me, who will offer so I don’t have to push or will readily help if I do, who will give me that hiding place I’m craving just to help me.

Basically, family, right? And I just don’t have any here, or the energy to pretend I don’t need help for long enough to fool someone into befriending me. I don’t work that way, anyway.

I just feel alone as hell.

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13 Comments

« Wearing: New Look Red Maxi Dress
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  • Karrie Smith

    Hi Lix.
    I follow your blog on BL, but I’m a sewer/quilter, and your blog title of “classic Notion” drew me in. I thought you were a quilting blog because a notion is a tool you need for sewing ;) After I realized you are NOT a quilter, I found myself connecting to your story anyway :)

    I have struggled with anxiety and depression for many years. I’m 35. My Mom was very anti-medication. I thought I needed “happy pills”. Most of my problems stem from depression in my teens. The anxiety is married to the depression. I have always been a very quiet person through high school. I liked to read, and have a few close friends around. To those who knew me, knew I wasn’t really that quiet. I tried Prozac when I was around 22, but had to see my PCP (primary care provider) to get the script. I did not find a therapist for MANY years, until I was almost 30. When I was 27, I started on Effexor Xr, because I just graduated from nursing school, and my work was putting a lot of stress on me to take my boards, so I could work by myself as a nurse, and not a graduate nurse. Problem was, that I owed a lot of money to my University, and I didn’t think I could take my boards until I paid for college. It was true, but between learning a new profession (and all the responsibility of being in control of 5-9 people’s life!), home life, an emotionally abusive relationship that I did not recognize as abusive at the time, and raising my daughter AND my job asking every other day when I was testing, I almost had a break down. I started the Effexor Xr and it seemed to help. I never wanted to stay on it for a long period, but I have been on it for about 8 years now. I have had to increase the doses over time, because I get used to them, or my depression gets a lot worse. My sister was diagnosed with cervical cancer in Jan 2009 and passed in Aug 7, 2010 (her 4 year anniversary was on Thursday). I also was diagnosed with panic disorder in 2007. I was wrapping gifts for Christmas with the abusive bf (who is the father of my daughter), and started laughing SO hard, that I had this weird feeling of sadness that I would never stop laughing so hard, and I went into a full blown panic attack. This isn’t an anxiety attack, but my legs and arms went numb, and I thought I had a pulmonary embolism (blot clot to the lung), because the symptom of a PE is “impending doom” and that is what I felt like. I was a nurse, and thought I was really going to die, but NOT from anxiety (because I had that all the time regularly).

    I tried Paxil, but my eyes dilated and I felt dizzy and started to get red spots on my skin. I don’t know if it was hives or a rash, but since it was an adverse reaction, I didn’t stay on it. Effexor is a SSNI, which is a bit different from SSRI. It also blocks norepinephrine AND serotonin, instead of just blocking serotonin. (they are both neurotransmitters, and the antidepressant “fills” up those spaces, and the brain thinks you have the normal amount of the chemicals, even though you are not producing enough to fill them.

    Your brain gets used to not having to make the “normal” amount of neurotransmitters. When you stop taking your meds, without tapering, your brain that was once happy because it’s receptors were all full becomes anxious/sad/angry/depressed because not only are your receptors empty, PLUS your brain is not used to making the “normal” amount. I don’t know how long you have been taking your meds, but you are supposed to taper off them. Even if it’s a low dose. You may be feeling way overwhelmed because you stopped taking the meds. I would suggest taking a dose now, and if you want to go off of the medication, to call your Dr and see how they want you to come off it. I have had times where I have forgotten to take my meds and add in some extra stress, and I am crying for 3 hours or angry or have general anxiety. Unfortunately I’m on a pretty high dose of Effexor Xr, that when I forget, I will get warning signs anywhere from 5 hours to 18 hours later. Usually I get a migraine, then I realize I haven’t taken them. Or I will get this think call “brain swish”. If I shake my head side to side, i can “hear” and feel my brain make this swish noise. I HATE it. The only way to fix it, is to take my medication. So if my Dr forget a refill, and it’s the weekend, my pharmacist knows this of me, and will just give me a few doses until Monday.

    I really liked your post. I don’t understand the things you are going through, but I can definitely understand the feelings. I live in Michigan and have lived in the same town my entire life! I have been to Canada, because it’s only 40 minutes away from where I live, but I never have been anywhere West of Chicago, and the furthest I have traveled is NYC and Florida. I wish I lived across the hall from you so we could have tea and talk. Luckily I have a really supportive family, or I don’t know where I would be. I had my daughter at 17. But my Mom has a shrine of my sister, and no pictures of me anywhere, and my Dad is pretty cool, but goes to work in Detroit at 4 am so he is chronically tired and just wants to chill when he gets home. So even though I live with them, I have a nice sized room and only see them at passing and if they make dinner. (that sounds terrible, but I am a grazer unless they make something good, haha).

    You just sound so sad, that I want to give you a hug. I have felt that lonely in life, but realistically, it was in my head, because I’m not living 3000 miles away from home. I’ll some some good wishes/vibes/prayers your way. I’m not religious but I do ask God to watch over people. If you would like to talk more, you can email me and we can start chatting there. I basically just told you my life story and my psychiatric history so I hope I didn’t overwhelm you to make you think I’m crazy. I’m not :) Hope you start feeling better. I thought it was cute when you called OJ pulp “juicy bits”.
    -karrie
    ksmith8@emich.edu

    • Kelly Palmer

      Hands down the best reply to any blog post I have ever seen! You’ve blown my mind a bit haha

      • Lix Hewett

        I know, right? I’m so grateful for this reply, Karrie, will respond more in depth in a bit!

    • Lix Hewett

      I call myself ‘crazy’ often as a way of taking the stigma off the word so even if I did think you were crazy, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. ;)

      Thank you SO much for sharing all this. I really appreciate it and I really appreciated the bit explaining SSRIs because to tell you the truth, I hadn’t tried to make that much sense of it. I didn’t quit cold turkey, for what it’s worth – I registered with a GP back in June and I was going to switch meds because the paroxetine wasn’t really covering everything I needed covered (motivation issues, poor sleep schedule, poor eating habits) but then I started feeling okay as I reduced my dosage and doing better, so I thought I’d just not get on the mirtazapine right away – stay off paroxetine for a while and see how I fared without it. That’s what I’m doing right now. I could just start the mirtazapine but I’ve made it this far and I feel like it would make this whole week of suffering pointless, which apparently only makes sense in my head? It’s just, my options are:

      1) stay off meds and hope I stop feeling terrible within the next two weeks
      2) get on new meds and hope I stop feeling terrible within the next two weeks

      The second one involves shelling out £8.05 for a prescription and the first one doesn’t (which, I know, SO lucky I’ve always lived in places with a good healthcare system), so I’m kind of swayed. Plus I’ve made it this far! ……………………. /o

      Juicy bits is what the Brits call it! At first I thought it was just the Tropicana brand but apparently it’s just *what the Brits call oj pulp*. Amaze.

  • Lix Hewett

    <3 I followed you on twitter, really like the look of your blog!

    • Kelly Palmer

      Thank you so much :) I love yours. Even though I only found it last week I’m quickly working my way through your archive. I’ll be sure to get on twitter now x

  • amitygardens

    I agree with Karrie about tapering off. You really have to do that. I spent about a week of not taking my medication when I wasn’t at home and it fucks you up so badly. Lots of crying, and sadness. Even though it’s a pain in the ass, you have to wean yourself off. It makes a smoother transition, and you feel less hopeless. Feel better and take care of yourself, sweet pea.

    • Lix Hewett

      I did though! I was switching meds, so I had to wean myself off paroxetine before I started taking mirtazapine. I did half a pill every day for two weeks and then half a pill every other day for two weeks and then I went off them (last Sunday). It was GP-supervised and totally responsible, promise. I wouldn’t quit cold turkey, I’m so not that reckless! I’m a massive coward actually, I’m amazed I actually sought out a meds switch but the paroxetine just wasn’t doing it for me and then I was doing really well on the reduced dosage, so I thought I’d try going without. But all within the guidelines set by my GP.

      • amitygardens

        Oh man, this is making me nervous. My GP and I decided that I am going down a dose on my own medication and we shall see how this goes. Lots of crying, I figure. Hopefully, the new medication will work better!

        • Lix Hewett

          I actually was doing really really well on the reduced dosage, it was when I quit it altogether that everything went to shit. But it coincided with a couple of other things (the usual flathunting/lack of money crap but also, it turns out, PMS! yay!) so they all probably fed each other to make me miserable. I seem to be doing better now. Ish.

  • Samantha

    Why didn’t you go to Blogstock? It could have been a super chance to network and find work. (and don’t blame anxiety you do plenty of other things that involve people you do not know) You need to start pulling yourself up by the bootstraps and stop depending on begging help from others. Most people have their own problems and don’t want to help others. You have been sitting on that Starbucks application for over a month. Hand it in already. Take that step. Apply everywhere you can. You need a regular job to fill in the gaps of the other work. Get off twitter and go be proactive. You will feel better about it.

    • Lix Hewett

      I didn’t have anxiety over meeting strangers, I was broke and I had MELTDOWNS. I spent Thursday to Saturday crying nonstop. I went off medication and it has that effect. I’m not going to address the rest of it because you said bootstraps and frankly that’s enough for me to block you. Mental health issues are not a fucking whim.

  • Miss Angie

    Hey pretty lady, sorry I haven’t been by much! I try to read but don’t always remember to comment. I just want to say that I think you are incredibly brave. I know it’s scary (I have some bad anxiety issues too, but I haven’t seen a professional about them yet-I need to) but you can do it. You inspire me. :)

Meet Lix

Welcome to my blog! I'm Lix: full-time graphic designer for bloggers and freelancers, and part-time photographer. I'm an unapologetic cat lady and perpetually angry feminist nightmare. I like attention and pretty things, and that's why I run a lifestyle blog. Learn more.
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