Putting On A Face

I didn’t wear make-up at all until I was 27. I tried to put some on when I was around 13 but it didn’t look right and made my skin itch, it was awfully expensive and my mum didn’t wear any, plus all my friends were boys so I couldn’t ask them for tips, lipstick and hiking through the bush or skateboarding just didn’t seem to go together.

My teenage love life consisted of “drunk or stoned at a party sex” rather than prettying myself up for dates, I was fat for much of high school and not desirable to anyone sober, then when I lost weight and school boys began to take notice of me I was too involved in my eating disorder and working on my latest out-there manic project to have time for much else.

The 30yr old boyfriend I had when I was 16 did take me out on dates, but he never mentioned my lack of make-up, I was vegan at the time and definitely against animal testing so he probably thought that was part of it, there weren’t as many cruelty free products available back then.

My husband has always told me that I am perfect just the way I am and I don’t need to wear “Clown Paint”, it’s not even him just being nice, he really doesn’t like the stuff at all, in fact he was sending out death stares to my 16yr old niece when she put a little bit of lip stick and eye shadow on my 7yr old daughter on Christmas day!

At age 27 I was hypomanic, motivated and keen to get a full time ‘real’ job, I had been working in a pet store since I was 14yrs old. I landed a position in the public service where pretty nails and make up was simply expected. Suddenly I found myself in the world of manicures, eyelash tinting, brow waxing and was wearing make up every week day, my hypomania was ramping up and so was my eating disorder. A wardrobe of size XS nice work clothes, having my hair styled and wearing make-up made me feel pretty for the first time in my life.

I remember thinking that if only I had worn make up and had my hair done in high school, maybe boys would have looked at me a whole lot differently. Suddenly wearing make up to work became wearing it every day if I was leaving the house, then everyday if I was likely to get a glance at my own reflection.

Skirts, heels and cosmetics had become my mask and I felt hideous without them.

On one occasion I was off work as my hypomania and anxiety were causing problems and Hubby had to give me a lift into town for a therapist appointment. I woke up late and didn’t have time to put my face on or straighten my hair. I was beside myself. I had a panic attack and literally cried the entire hour long journey into town, then I ended up taking hubbies car and going to a shop and spending over $150 on new cosmetics that I applied in the bathroom at the mall, $100 on a new outfit and then went to a hairdresser and got a $200 cut & colour. 

I had spent nearly $500 I couldn't afford just so I could go to the appointment looking “good” and prove that I wasn’t too manic to work.

Shortly after this incident my mania peaked and landed me in hospital, where I was absolutely horrified that I would not be able to use a flat iron, run on a treadmill or wear make-up, I recall that I kept apologising to the other inmates for being so ugly and telling them that I normally wasn’t THIS bad, I just needed my face on and my straightener, promise!

The depression that came after that long manic episode drained me of energy and caused me to gain around 15kg but I continued using make-up for quite a while purely as a front when I went to work, when I wore it people thought I was doing well, they thought I was ‘normal’. I ran into a colleague at the shop on the weekend once, I was wearing shabby jeans, a now too tight T shirt and a naked face.

He took a step back and said “Woah, I nearly didn’t recognise you, you know without all your make up on!” I just laughed and said “Yeah pretty scary huh!” but I was nearly dying inside, my fears were confirmed I was fat, ugly, stupid and too lazy to even make myself recognisable. The depression got worse and I stopped going to work, stopped leaving the house and stopped wearing make-up altogether. It didn’t matter anymore; I was a lost cause.

After my suicide attempt and subsequent two months in the psych ward I returned home and eventually opened up my cosmetics bag again, Hubby was unimpressed “what do you want to wear that crap for? You aren’t working and you were pretty much fine until you started wearing all that stuff” he would say. He seemed to think that my wearing of make-up was to blame for my mania rather than the other way around.

When I was stable I started working again part time I wore make up to work but it didn’t own me anymore. Depression hit again, milder this time but I decided to quit my job for good. We didn’t suit each other. I am now back in a part time position in the pet store that is a big part of my soul, animals and fake nails are impractical, I have a uniform so I don’t have to worry about what outfit to wear. I don’t feel judged by my colleagues or customers and I look forward to every shift. 

So now sometimes I wear cosmetics and sometimes I don’t, but even on the days I do choose to wear make-up I know I am no longer simply putting on a face.

Up, Down or Sideways?

Heya everyone! *crickets* Ah 'everyone' who am I kidding, hi to both of you. I have been ultra-terrible at blogging lately – computer issues haven’t helped matters but it is working today *scrambles to touch anything wooden* so here I am.

 

I’m kinda depressed again but it’s different this time. I can’t explain it properly, there is an edginess to it even a thrill perhaps that isn’t quite the same as past mixed mania's but along those veins. My soul aches but my body tingles, I’m suicidal but I’m cleaning the house – and contrary to past experiences I am sleeping like a normal person for the first time in fuck knows how long. Not sure if I am up, down or sideways.

Physically something isn’t right with me, it seems that the left half of my body is trying to fall apart and I am having trouble deciding if this is actually some sort of psychosomatic thing or an actual physical one. They thought I had MS about 9yrs ago but all my bizarre symptoms of stiffness, numbness, weird skin sensations, cognitive stuff and so forth magically went away when I fell pregnant with my daughter. 

About three years ago I got up from my desk at work to go to the bathroom and my foot gave out, I had foot drop and of course freaked out that after 6 years symptom free maybe I did have MS after all. This resulted in a visit to a neurologist and MRI scans. Scans came back as ‘lesions inconsistent with MS’ (thank goodness) and I was diagnosed with ‘Lumbo sacral plexopathy’ as a cause for the foot drop which resolved itself over about 5/6 months and I have had no physical issues since.

 

Recently my left breast had doubled in size over the period of about two months, there has been a slowly expanding lumpiness for around 12 months but I was putting off going to the doctor in the secret hope that it was breast cancer and it would spread fast enough to be too late for intervention. 

 

I finally went to see my doctor due to the growth spurt after some prompting from my husband, we sat down and after she enquired extensively about my mental health, I then asked her about the boob she dismissed it completely – didn’t even look at it, just suggested I put some anti-inflammatory gel on it. 

I couldn’t decide how to feel about the dismissiveness, I was partially relieved that I had gotten off the hook by being a good girl and seeing the doctor as my husband had asked me to, now if it was cancer I had plausible deniability. I was also annoyed that I have fallen into that trap of ‘once a mental health patient, always a mental health patient’ and physical issues no longer seem to matter.

On the other hand, my breast was sore, uncomfortable and noticeably a good cup size different to the other one and I really did want to know what the hell was going on with it, even if that was going to end in a me refusing to have treatment anyway situation.

So I ended up booking an appointment with a different doctor at the same clinic, she took it very seriously and scheduled me for an ultrasound straight away. The ultrasound showed an area of inflammation but no discernible masses (despite the palpable one that is about 5cm diameter) so they gave me a mammogram, this also showed an area of inflammation but no discernible mass.

 As there is nothing specific on imaging to biopsy we are playing the ‘wait and see’ card and I will go back in 4 months for another mammogram and ultrasound unless it gets worse in the meantime. 

My left leg has also been really stiff and sore again too, it’s really bad when I wake up in the morning or after long periods of sitting in the car / couch etc. Exercising eases it. I am also having issues with weakness and numbness in my arms again, hanging out washing or drying my hair, hands on the steering wheel are all becoming increasingly difficult. Although this arm stuff started on the left its now bilateral.

I have seen a physio regarding the stiffness etc and she has given me some exercises to do, they don’t seem to be helping yet (4 sessions later) and its costing me $100 a pop, so I’m not sure if I will bother to keep going or not.

The only thing I have done differently in the last three months is come off my bipolar medication completely, I spoke with my psychiatrist about this but she didn’t think this would be related. I also asked her if it’s possible all of the neurological stuff could be psychosomatic or some sort of conversion disorder. She felt it was very unlikely but since it is mainly the left side of my body it wouldn’t hurt for me to exercise the possibly responsible right side of my brain, she suggested finding some sort of creative outlet.

Sadly, my creativity usually only visits when I am manic – I woke up one day about 10 years ago and decided I LOVED scrapbooking, IT WAS MY CALLING. So I joined up ‘Kazzazz’ as a consultant, spent nearly two thousand dollars on stamps, inks and papers, fancy pens, embellishments and cut outs and built a website for myself. That phase lasted approximately one month and I have 1 scrapbooking album with 3 ½ pages completed in it and 3 storage containers full of scrapbooking paraphernalia gathering dust to show for it.

Current creativity level is limited to taking 100’s of photographs I will never look at again (I went to a rose wholesaler with my garden club recently – Oh so many pretty roses, must capture them all! ) and writing short stories and songs in my head.

Wow, this got long fast – I’m rambling. Funny, yesterday it was my second sons 13^th birthday and I spent most of the day running around baking cakes, grocery shopping and at doctor and physio appointments making small talk with strangers all the while having to remind myself constantly as I drove past large trucks that it was his birthday and I absolutely was not allowed to kill myself that day no matter how deep the urge. Simultaneously exhausted and alert. 

 I even deactivated my personal facebook profile because the shallowness and bragginess of the world was pushing me off the edge. Some sort of mild hypomanic depression or ‘functionally depressed’ perhaps?

Yesterday was also the first time in over a year that I didn’t exercise for my full hour on the treadmill, I push myself through the physical pain in my leg every day but yesterday I only made it to 55min and I was so weak and dizzy that I couldn’t pull the final five as I would have literally collapsed. 

That failure hurt my soul, I NEED to do my full 60 minutes – I know it’s stupid and I know it’s the eating disorder talking but I have gained so much weight over the last few months that I have one pair of pants that fits me and I need to go and buy new clothes – that’s a task I am putting off as it makes me suicidal at the best of times. So many tears in the change rooms, I never wear make-up when I am clothes shopping. 

I am still feeling really weak physically and I haven’t been on the treadmill yet today as I am scared it will be a repeat of yesterday.

I will stop rambling now. I hope all of you out there in the blogaverse are doing well xxoo