Day 10

Day 10: AKA the worst pain EVER! And I say this with a smile, fortunately. Let me explain. 

One of my closest friends in the world, the superstar goddess Kate used to say to me if I ever felt bad “but is it as bad as Day 10?” And within seconds, I was hysterically laughing and feeling brilliant. 

Shout out to Kate, who we lost to cancer last year for still making me smile whenever I think of her.

So, what is Day 10? I will try and explain. 

Basically, a few years ago, Kate and I were having lunch and a chat. She was telling me about some of her cancer treatment from a few years previously where basically after coming round from an operation she genuinely didn’t know whether she could be alive because of the pain and how bad it was. Naturally, always one to emphathise, I went on to tell her about my story of when I had my tonsils out and Day 10 of recovery was the worst pain ever. Like, THE WORST PAIN EVER. I couldn’t even swallow!!! 😂 (yeah, Kate didn’t know if she’d survive, but  I couldn’t SWALLOW guys!!) 

We fell into fits of laughter, and this will forever be known as Day 10. 

So, I’m going to remember this. During my withdrawal if I have bad times (which I’m sure I will), I’ll just see Kate saying to me “Yeah, but is it as bad as Day 10?” And if that can’t get me through it, then nothing can.

I love you Kate. 


SSRI update

The GP I saw this evening was ace – unlike all the other General Pricks I’ve seen previously. As soon as I told her my predicament she was so understanding; saying I should never have even been prescribed seroxat, and should certainly been advised to come off it a lot sooner than now and that under no circumstances whatsoever should I ever have been told it’s ok to take in pregnancy.  So, that leaves a lot to be answered for.

BUT, she was excellent and we’ve put a plan together to taper my dose down from 10mg to 8mg for a couple of weeks and see how I get on. I’m genuinely excited!! Can’t wait to be free of this evil drug.

Although; I’ll leave you with a final thought. What if I’m not the same person when I come off them? What if I’m actually completely different? Shit.

Off to watch Car Share. Mum says the final episode features a monkey in the back seat of a car wearing a seat belt. A MUST SEE!!


Let’s call them quirks shall we? Let’s not refer to them as mental obsessive compulsive behaviours.

1. Firstly, magpies. They’re bastards.

2. When I was younger, if anyone ever said the word “SPAM” I’d have to slap myself in the face. There is absolutely no reasoning behind this.

3. I used to pray every night because I genuinely believed that if I didn’t, I would die in my sleep. I think it took me until about the age of 18 to take the risk. I woke up! Yay!

4. Toilet rolls absolutely have to be facing you so the roll hangs to the front. I will not pee until I’ve turned it around.

5. I used to think that people in public places were going to spike my ice cubes in my drinks so I never ordered ice.

6. No number can ever be at an odd number setting. This applies to heating and volume levels. I’d be fucked if it mattered at all times because my house is number 15. 😵

7. I used to check my mother wasn’t trying to poison me by rifling through the bins to check the use by dates of anything she ever cooked for me.

8. We must all turn appliances off at the mains. No one wants a house fire 🔥

9. I carry a piece of wood in my car for when I see magpies and if an ambulance ever goes past I have to touch my collar and rub my nose.

10. I love prawns but don’t dare eat them because they live in a shell, which clearly means poison

11. I was so paranoid in my 20s that everyone was tying to kill me that I used to walk around bars with my diet cola with my hand on top so no one could spike me. I used to genuinely question my friends as to whether they’d spiked me (even though they didn’t do drugs)

12. I can’t think of any other quirks for now but I’m sure there are plenty more and I’ll update the list accordingly.

Evening all.

Mad Girl 

Just finished reading Mad Girl by Bryony Gordon and it was like reading about me. Never have I read anything that I could relate to so well, and so furthermore it has increased my desire to write, because that feeling you get when you realise; “oh my god, that’s what I think” is so reassuring. 
For the past hour, my OCD has been in full charge. It’s been scouring Google, looking for answers, looking for someone who’s definitely a qualified GP, psychiatrist and OBGYN to tell me that it’s ok, I’m ok. But no. All I’ve found are hundreds of posts about the dangers of seroxat, and how coming off them will make you want to kill yourself, and that you’ll wish you’d never been born, and all I can think about is that scene in Trainspotting that has haunted me since the early 90s.  The truth seems to be that it’s gonna be fucking horrendous. And it might be fucking horrendous for a very long time. But then, here’s where I am: 

  • I’m 35 so realistically need to start trying for a baby now, given that I’m higher risk than your average 35 year old given what’s already happened
  • If I continue to take seroxat, I won’t go mad or have horrific withdrawal which would be good for a baby to make its nest inside of me, but said baby could probably die again and I didn’t enjoy that last time so I’d rather consider the alternative option
  • The alternative option sounds scary and long and painful and I’m worried it’ll ruin me and my currently very well functioning brain, and that my husband and my friends and family will hate me and that my Chimp will make me go mad (my Chimp is my emotional brain, rather than my rational brain; there’s a difference apparently) 

So there’s my predicament.

If anyone reading this is considering antidepressants, just make sure you think about the long term effects. I was 17 and not depressed when I was given these evil drugs. Since then I’ve tried to kill myself a casual 4 times, had a severe dependancy to cocaine and lost a baby. So, my advice is to read up and research as much as you can before going down the route I went down. 

The beginning

Here goes.  I’ve been wanting to write something for a while now, and today is just THE day.  Perhaps it’s the book i’m reading at the moment (Mad Girl, by Bryony Gordon) or the fact I’ve just smashed all seasons of Girls within a month… who knows.  Either way, I feel inspired to write.

I am a newlywed; to the wonderful Josh.  We got together in September 2014 and married 5th November 2016.  He’s the love of my life.  He’s my saviour.  Before him; I was broken, and he mended me.  He gave me reason.

In September 2013 I lost a baby.  I gave birth to Jarvis Donovan at 23 weeks.  He was stillborn because he was really sick, and one day I may tell the whole story, but for now, that’s all you’re getting.   Today, I was excited as I made my appointment to have my coil removed (I have the Mirena Coil fitted).  Josh and I want to start trying for a baby in the next few months, so we’re preparing… step by step… ciggy after ciggy (we will give up!!).  I was excited, and on my way to mums to spend the day outdoors and get rid of the negative thoughts I’ve been having.  (yesterday was a shit day where I just couldn’t leave the sofa.  Nothing had happened to trigger it, it was just one of those days).  On my way to Pannal, I was listening to Radio 2 – Jeremy Vine.  He has this doctor on most days around lunch time, and people ring in with their questions and concerns and they make it all OK.  Today’s subject was around medication and pregnancy.  The doctor said she wanted to talk about Mental Health and Pregnancy.  They then went on to discuss what meds were safe and not safe to take whilst pregnant… and my heart sank.  The medication I take, and have taken since I was 17 (I’m now 35) is absolutely NOT safe during pregnancy.  It can cause congenital heart defects (this relates to the reason Jarvis died, but I can’t go into it yet).  So, it turns out, I was mis-sold this drug, like PPI or something YEARS ago when I was only 17 and now it is going to harm my baby!?!? The baby I don’t even have yet!!?? So I cried all the way to mums.

I called the doctor.  I have to come off this drug! For anyone interested, it’s called Seroxat (Paroxetine) and I take 10mg a day.  It’s incredibly addictive and notoriously fucking hard to stop taking due to the horrendous withdrawal.  I called the doctor because I need to stop taking it, I can’t lose another child.  I can’t not give Josh what he wants more than anything!  I need to be able to have a healthy baby.

I’m scared.  I’ve been so dependant on this drug for so long and I’m scared to the core of stopping taking it.  Not only that, but I have to give up smoking too and I already feel like I’m in too deep.  But, I’m going to do it and I’m going to write this blog to share my experience of coming off it, and make it more known that it can be possible to come off it safely (I hope!!).

As I go along, I’m sure I’ll write more about why I have the thoughts I have, why I’m scared of pretty much everything, and it might get dark. It might get scary and messy and regretful, but I’m going to document the gore, and the truth and share this upcoming journey.

So there we go.  First blog.  My gluten free, veggie pie is ready so I’m off to eat it with loads of mushy peas like a proper Yorkshire lass.