Well, the last two posts here have been a bit personal, a bit hard to write, and I expect even harder to read - but I am not embarrassed by them because I know damned fine there are many people out there going through life as though they are wading through mud with dark clouds flanking their every move.
What I am, however, is surprised - at how much better I am feeling in less than a week. The clouds have lifted, and the sun is starting to be visible, the mud has gone, although it is still a bit sticky underfoot, and my brain is actually starting to make sense of life again.
Two, maybe three, years ago, I came across an article about a nutrient - vitamin B12. What I read resonated with me, and I went on to read more. As a result I started taking a supplement, and was astounded at how much better I felt. I stayed on it for quite a while - but on one occasion when I ran out, I never got round to ordering more. I kind of thought I no longer needed it. I was "better".
Back on Tuesday, I found a lonely little tablet of vitamin B12 in the cupboard - the light bulb went on and I popped it in my mouth. I bought some supplies on Thursday, and the difference is astonishing. I feel normal again - well, recovering! My sense of humour is returning.
I settled down to do a bit more reading and did actually discover something I didn't know before. The absorption of this nutrient is impaired by quite a few prescription drugs including anti-epilepsy drugs which I have been taking for nearly 40 years. For 35 of those years I have struggled with a tendency to feel down, or downright depressed. Little wonder.
It is mostly found in fish, shellfish, meat, organ meat and eggs, and given I have been pretty much vegetarian for the last couple of months, it isn't surprising that a stressful incident would push me over the edge.
A deficiency in B12, and the many symptoms that can come with it, is responsible for a number of mis-diagnoses - dementia, depression, parkinsons are just a few. If the deficiency remains untreated, then those diseases will actually well and truly manifest themselves as the brain gradually grinds to a halt in so many functions.
Those most likely to be affected are women over 50, people taking medication for diabetes, epilepsy and indigestion, and folks who don't eat meat and fish.
This is a simplistic view - there is a huge amount of information out there. All I can say is thank goodness for the internet.
Thanks for your support this last few weeks. I will go back to talking dogs again now.
Sunday 21 May 2017
Tuesday 16 May 2017
Collateral Damage
So. My last post now seems a little self indulgent. I almost took it down, but no - we are told we must speak about these things more openly. There are many of us who have times like that - and some of those times seem to last for ever, with no light at the end of the tunnel. Been there and done that. I guess some people are more sensitive, and more susceptible than others to the ravages of anxiety and depression. It makes sense to me more now that I have realised I have, as yet, untapped, empathic abilities. But that is a whole different subject.
You might wonder what the hell that post had to do with dogs, or this one for that matter - given this is meant to be a blog about dogs. The answer finally came to me at 4.30 this morning.
The day before I wrote that post I had an "incident" at work. One of the dogs ran into a chap at work just as he was leaving a cottage - he tripped over the dog, fell down some steps, banged his head, hurt his wrist, and hurt his already injured knee for which he is awaiting surgery. I didn't see it happen, but eventually heard his shout. I went out, he told me what had happened - without accusation, but with much pain - and I finished his jobs off and turned the pick-up so he could easily drive back to base.
I was cursing myself as I had got into the habit of always putting the dogs in the car while anyone else was at a cottage other than me and my workmate. This particular chap, some time ago, said "don't worry - they don't bother me". And when I watched them, I could see that they didn't - I guess he had growled at them often enough that they learned to keep out of his way. Until that day. He didn't see her coming and vice versa. He ended up being taken to A&E, wasting his time, a colleague's time, and causing extra work for all. To put a nail in the coffin, the dogs remained out only for me to look out a little while later and see my boss and another worker had arrived to do another job without my having heard them - and for once, the dogs didn't bark to warn me of someone coming. The boss is none too fond of my dogs given that River has had a go at his own very sweet labrador on a couple of occasions, and the other chap loathes them. I think he is also a little afraid of them. At that point, I rounded them up, and to their credit, they came immediately and piled into the car.
From that point onward, my state of mind went steadily downwards into depths I haven't visited for some time, and the door to which I believed I had locked firmly behind me after my last trip.
The lad had a suspected broken wrist, severe soft tissue damage to his knee and a bump on his head. He was to be off work for an unknown length of time making me, I felt, the pariah of the workplace. I cleared off home as soon as I could that night, and, other than phoning the lad to see how he was and to apologise once again, holed up for the weekend steadily going downhill. But Monday came round and I was asked up to the "office" to chat over a few things.
I had already gone through various scenarios. I felt fairly sure I was going to be asked to not bring the dogs to work, and I knew in my heart that there would be no way I would go and work the silly hours and long days that I often do, leaving the dogs at home. In my mind I was exploring the options open to me for earning a living. The financial implications hit me hard - my age hit me hard as there are limited options open to someone like me. I realised what a narrow ridge I walk upon in so many areas of my life - there isn't much room for error. I felt stuck between a rock and a hard place - with no control over my own life.
As it turned out, I was asked to keep the dogs in the car whilst I am inside a cottage but providing I am outside with them they are still allowed to be out - my boss recognises that I have them under control when I am out and about with them. They can still be with me when I am gardening, they can still sit in their enclosure at "base", although perhaps I should make that a bit more escape proof.
And the good news is that a couple of weeks on, the wrist isn't broken, the head bump wasn't serious, and they have finally agreed to get on with the surgery on his knee.
So all's well that ends well? No.
For the last couple of weeks I have holed up as much as possible, communicating with other people as little as possible. I have hardly been on Facebook - my usual happy haunts are the hovawart groups, and chatting to my hovawart friends. All of a sudden I don't want to be there, don't want to see pictures of lovely puppies, happy dogs, proud owners. I don't want to hear about successes at shows, or new litters, or new pups joining households. I just don't want to talk to anyone any more than is necessary. I have struggled to understand why. I think there are a mixture of things going on in my mind and many of them seem so warped, but such are the ravages of depression and anxiety that nothing really makes sense.
Everyone else seems to be happy, even though I know so many of the people I communicate with have had more than their fair share of heartache.
Everyone else seems to have perfect dogs and perfect lives. My rational mind knows this isn't true, that we all have our ups and downs with our dogs. I know that I have what is generally regarded as an enviable place to live, a great job, happy dogs. But my emotional mind is not seeing this, not believing it, not accepting it.
I guess I have felt worthless as a person this last couple of weeks, my confidence has been shot down in flames, I feel I have little to offer to anyone or anything so I have just kept out of the way and let life carry on around me, taking solace in reading, watching tv, anything to shut my mind down for a while. I have felt embarrassed that I allowed one of my dogs to do this, even though I know it truly was an accident.
The arrival of a bottle of whisky this morning, sent by some dear friends, reduced me to tears for over 30 minutes. Get a grip woman!!
And even though I am making sense of all of this on some level - the climb back up that cliff is taking a hell of a lot longer than it took to fall off. The damage done is far worse than it should have been.
Once again, I imagine some of you are thinking what on earth does this have to do with dogs - well, I guess it's more about the baggage that comes with them - the responsibilities, the worries, the heartache, the times when you wonder if you are coping with it all, if you are fit to be a dog owner. But it is also to do with just how fragile the human condition can be. At the end of the day I would far rather be over sensitive, than be one of those people who just don't give at damn. Though at times I wish I could step into their shoes, and wear their cloak of steel against the world.
You might wonder what the hell that post had to do with dogs, or this one for that matter - given this is meant to be a blog about dogs. The answer finally came to me at 4.30 this morning.
The day before I wrote that post I had an "incident" at work. One of the dogs ran into a chap at work just as he was leaving a cottage - he tripped over the dog, fell down some steps, banged his head, hurt his wrist, and hurt his already injured knee for which he is awaiting surgery. I didn't see it happen, but eventually heard his shout. I went out, he told me what had happened - without accusation, but with much pain - and I finished his jobs off and turned the pick-up so he could easily drive back to base.
I was cursing myself as I had got into the habit of always putting the dogs in the car while anyone else was at a cottage other than me and my workmate. This particular chap, some time ago, said "don't worry - they don't bother me". And when I watched them, I could see that they didn't - I guess he had growled at them often enough that they learned to keep out of his way. Until that day. He didn't see her coming and vice versa. He ended up being taken to A&E, wasting his time, a colleague's time, and causing extra work for all. To put a nail in the coffin, the dogs remained out only for me to look out a little while later and see my boss and another worker had arrived to do another job without my having heard them - and for once, the dogs didn't bark to warn me of someone coming. The boss is none too fond of my dogs given that River has had a go at his own very sweet labrador on a couple of occasions, and the other chap loathes them. I think he is also a little afraid of them. At that point, I rounded them up, and to their credit, they came immediately and piled into the car.
From that point onward, my state of mind went steadily downwards into depths I haven't visited for some time, and the door to which I believed I had locked firmly behind me after my last trip.
The lad had a suspected broken wrist, severe soft tissue damage to his knee and a bump on his head. He was to be off work for an unknown length of time making me, I felt, the pariah of the workplace. I cleared off home as soon as I could that night, and, other than phoning the lad to see how he was and to apologise once again, holed up for the weekend steadily going downhill. But Monday came round and I was asked up to the "office" to chat over a few things.
I had already gone through various scenarios. I felt fairly sure I was going to be asked to not bring the dogs to work, and I knew in my heart that there would be no way I would go and work the silly hours and long days that I often do, leaving the dogs at home. In my mind I was exploring the options open to me for earning a living. The financial implications hit me hard - my age hit me hard as there are limited options open to someone like me. I realised what a narrow ridge I walk upon in so many areas of my life - there isn't much room for error. I felt stuck between a rock and a hard place - with no control over my own life.
As it turned out, I was asked to keep the dogs in the car whilst I am inside a cottage but providing I am outside with them they are still allowed to be out - my boss recognises that I have them under control when I am out and about with them. They can still be with me when I am gardening, they can still sit in their enclosure at "base", although perhaps I should make that a bit more escape proof.
And the good news is that a couple of weeks on, the wrist isn't broken, the head bump wasn't serious, and they have finally agreed to get on with the surgery on his knee.
So all's well that ends well? No.
For the last couple of weeks I have holed up as much as possible, communicating with other people as little as possible. I have hardly been on Facebook - my usual happy haunts are the hovawart groups, and chatting to my hovawart friends. All of a sudden I don't want to be there, don't want to see pictures of lovely puppies, happy dogs, proud owners. I don't want to hear about successes at shows, or new litters, or new pups joining households. I just don't want to talk to anyone any more than is necessary. I have struggled to understand why. I think there are a mixture of things going on in my mind and many of them seem so warped, but such are the ravages of depression and anxiety that nothing really makes sense.
Everyone else seems to be happy, even though I know so many of the people I communicate with have had more than their fair share of heartache.
Everyone else seems to have perfect dogs and perfect lives. My rational mind knows this isn't true, that we all have our ups and downs with our dogs. I know that I have what is generally regarded as an enviable place to live, a great job, happy dogs. But my emotional mind is not seeing this, not believing it, not accepting it.
I guess I have felt worthless as a person this last couple of weeks, my confidence has been shot down in flames, I feel I have little to offer to anyone or anything so I have just kept out of the way and let life carry on around me, taking solace in reading, watching tv, anything to shut my mind down for a while. I have felt embarrassed that I allowed one of my dogs to do this, even though I know it truly was an accident.
The arrival of a bottle of whisky this morning, sent by some dear friends, reduced me to tears for over 30 minutes. Get a grip woman!!
And even though I am making sense of all of this on some level - the climb back up that cliff is taking a hell of a lot longer than it took to fall off. The damage done is far worse than it should have been.
Once again, I imagine some of you are thinking what on earth does this have to do with dogs - well, I guess it's more about the baggage that comes with them - the responsibilities, the worries, the heartache, the times when you wonder if you are coping with it all, if you are fit to be a dog owner. But it is also to do with just how fragile the human condition can be. At the end of the day I would far rather be over sensitive, than be one of those people who just don't give at damn. Though at times I wish I could step into their shoes, and wear their cloak of steel against the world.
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