What is up with my brain just now?

How are you lovely lot doing? I hope better than me!

I’m feeling very compelled to write just now, not necessarily about Stella’s Crohn’s this time, so for fellow Crohnies, or people reading this hoping to hear about Stella, here is your warning!

This blog post is mostly about my journey with health anxiety, with a bit about Stella. Health anxiety is not helped with having a child with a chronic condition, but I’m in no way blaming Stella for this! I was just as anxious prior to the diagnosis. Given my title to this entire blog, I assume you get the gist that I’m fairly neurotic. And with neurosis, comes anxiety (or with anxiety, comes neurosis?).

Anyway, I’m currently struggling, and I know that I’m not alone. I’m incredibly lucky because I can share my thoughts with friends and family, and whilst they may be sick and tired; worried and confused as to why I feel this way, I feel supported. I can’t frankly bear the thought of anyone out there struggling silently, while thinking they’re going mad, and not have anyone with whom they feel they can confide. Maybe that’s why I’m writing this? My anxiety this week has reached fever pitch and so please, anyone who suffers similarly, you’re NOT ALONE. 

Is it the pandemic? Perhaps, that and a few other things that have probably set off some sort of trigger in my primal part of the brain (thanks, dear friend who explained this!).

Stella is off Modulen and back to eating and, whilst this is great for her, I’m a bit cautious with what to feed her, although as usual hiding this from her. A Calprotectin test has been carried out which tells us the current state of inflammation. I’ve no idea when we will receive the results, until then I’m TRYING to not think about it too much. I genuinely am feeling a bit calmer with Stella’s Crohn’s, despite the flare. I feel confident that whatever happens I think she’ll be okay. She isn’t loving the weekly injections which I find hard, but she / we know that there is no choice: we just have to get on with it. She bounces back quickly though, which is both reassuring and inspiring.

We’re currently involved in a research trial called the Ipens trial. When I say ‘we’ it’s because it’s Stella who provides the samples, receives £20 per sample, thanks very much; while I record every single thing which goes past her lips. Not easy. I’ve to record the weight and the brand of everything into a food diary at the end of every day for 3 weeks. Perhaps I’m finding this more stressful than I think which isn’t helping the ol’ brain. It’s all for the greater good hopefully, as the aim is to see which foods can trigger a Crohn’s flare — therefore, hopefully, managing all Crohn’s disease via diet. The researchers have told me that in 10 years time, this is what they’d have liked to achieve. I’m, therefore, well up for helping this cause. 

I’m not, currently, losing sleep over COVID-19, as such — and all the upset it’s bringing. We haven’t lost jobs, we haven’t known anyone who has died. (It’s amazing what we’re basing our happiness on right now isn’t it?) However, I am in a constant state of alert, or “fight or flight”, fearing all sorts, continuously. This particularly hellish week I’ve managed to convince myself that I’ve had 4, no less, different forms of cancer. I see, or I feel something which I’ve perhaps not noticed before on my body and become entirely obsessed. I do the worst thing and I Google. This, according to my good friend, does nothing but feed my primal brain; like adding wood to a fire, it keeps it going. Your primal brain is responsible for protecting you, in moments of danger. Thinking back to caveman times, the primal brain is responsible for saving you / your family from big, scary bears, and such like. It’s not meant for everyday situations, but I, and I know of plenty others who do, tap into this far too often. And when you start, the cycle continues. I can be reassured one day, then the next day, find something else. It’s all very consuming and depressing.

 I’ve not suffered from depression before; of course I know it exists. I know a good few people who have suffered / suffer from the “black dog”, so I can certainly sympathize, but I haven’t experienced it myself to fully understand – although I can imagine it as horrendous.

My health anxiety is alien to some people, which I’m delighted about. I’m glad there are people who can live their life without this continual fear. My husband hasn’t suffered a day of anxiety in his life, this helps me. He is the Yin to my Yang and whilst he should find me just so irritating and annoying, he doesn’t (not about this anyway). He sees how desperate I am, how scared I am, and does everything he can to help me.

 I have faith. I believe there is a God, does this always help? No. A lot of the time it does, but not when I’m in my “zone”. It takes much talking to friends, asking all sorts of ludicrous questions like “have you got tiny white bumps on your hands too?” and other random, absurd quizzing. This was today’s, and obviously one of my far less embarrassing ones.

I (frantically) scroll through my phone, looking for old pictures of my hands (or whatever it is I’m worrying about that day), to compare; desperate for reassurance that these tiny white spots have maybe been there before – to provide me with ANY reassurance.

It’s awful. There is a part of me who knows fine well that this isn’t necessary. That I am not going to die because of white spots on my hands. But I am in The Zone. And I can’t get out of it.

Today it took my good friend’s cousin, an actual dermatologist, to tell me that my hands were fine and the white spots were due to my eczema. Instant reassurance, followed by intense feelings of embarrassment and shame, which is what I’m experiencing right now – and then wondering what tomorrow will bring.  

I have a friend who doesn’t suffer from anxiety. She’s great. She gives me a telling off (which I love/need), and essentially slaps me. I can get out of The Zone quickly when I speak to her. I’m forever grateful to her – as well all my friends.

I try to hide this from the girls. Although it’s difficult. I’m open about anxiety and mental health, to an extent. I think it’s vital that we talk about it, but there’s a balance to be found isn’t there? They don’t need to know what’s going on in my head. But I think it’s good to let them know the reason for my crabbiness (is this a word?). They describe me as going through a “Mad Mary” phase when I admit that I’m feeling anxious. I hope this phase doesn’t offend anyone. I like it. It makes us laugh, eases the tension and reassures me that they don’t think it’s to do with them, which is important.  

Anyway. I’m writing this unsure whether I will actually publish it! It’s very personal, and I hope I don’t regret baring my soul like this. I know though, as I’ve said before, I’m not alone in this and if there is anyone who has felt like this recently, please know I understand. I believe it will pass, and you will feel better again. Despite suffering from bouts of this type of anxiety since my children were born (thanks a lot, weans) I know I’ve bounced back, and you will too. And as my kind, sympathetic GP says, having some anxiety works for some people. I believe I was good at my job because of anxiety, maybe? And… I doubt we’d have had a Crohn’s diagnosis for Stella as early as we did had it not been for my anxious wee brain. For that I’m thankful. If only this overworked amygdala (!) would calm it for a while, at least over Christmas.

Thanks for reading. I really do hope it will help other anxious souls. And to my dear family and friends: I am forever indebted to you.

Love, 

Sl. mortified Mad Mary