The Unseen Enemy

Some days just aren't destined to work out well.

I began mine by sleepily trudging into the bathroom to have a wee and promptly stepping into an ocean of urine in my bare feet. My four year old son had been caught short, but thought it best not to come clean and instead settled himself down for a fifteen minute play of his Nintendo DS before school.
 
My first words of the day, after a disastrous night's sleep, were expletives. 
 
After the big scene that ensued, and having settled down into a kind of fragile equilibrium, it was time for my son to pick one of his belongings for Show And Tell at school. The school rules are plain and simple – don't bring anything too big. My son decided upon the largest dinosaur of his collection. He knew it wasn't allowed, but seemed to be intent on pushing my buttons. Cue tantrum number two of today.
 
With the children safely in school, I finally identified the niggle that's been hanging around my head for the last few days.
 
Road Tax.
 
Despite it being firmly planted in my calendar, I'm hugely disorganised at the moment and only remembered this morning. And so began the frantic search for necessary documentation and funds. Six months or twelve? Six. It's too close to Christmas to manage more.
 
I drove to the Post Office and parked outside, still shaking with upset and anger after driving into the recycling bin behind my car (if only I'd had the patience to wait for my car's rear windscreen to defrost completely so I could see the bloody thing).
 
It's funny how mundane tasks like renewing insurance, buying Road Tax or going to the dentist can be markers of time in life. Reminders of how life is speeding by – where has the last six months gone?
 
I sat there for a few minutes, trying to compose myself before having to face another human being. I felt very close to tears again, having spent most of yesterday evening crying. (More on that later.)
 
Just near to the Post Office is a house where I used to live with friends – during my single, unencumbered days. When the only person I had to look after was me. That concept is unimaginable now. To have that luxury of being able to spend time thinking about what it is that I want. (And here's where there will be a chorus of people saying "You Need To Make Time For YOU." And I will sneer to myself at that, frankly.)
 
I've had some health problems recently. Or at least I "think" they are recent. It's hard to tell. 
 
(Boys, you may want to turn away at this bit.)
 
I've been using the Mirena Coil as a contraception method for the last two years. My doctor persuaded me to have it on the massive selling point that it was likely I'd no longer have periods. JOY. Sign me up with rollerblades and a labrador.
 
A couple of weeks later, the "insertion" took place, I had a day or so of feeling a bit icky, but other than that, was fine. And then I didn't really think much else about it for months. And this is where it gets a bit complicated. 
 
I'm not one of these women who is very "in touch" with her cycle, her moods etc. I don't document it, as I've got too much other stuff to do and frankly, I can't be arsed. I noticed I still bled with the coil, but once again, didn't think too much about it as I thought it would all settle down.
 
I DID notice my moods, however, but considering I've had a lot to deal with the in the last two years (here comes the list: relationship break-up, homelessness, serious money issues, moving house, anxious partner who needs much of my care and time, difficulty with the ex) I assumed any moodiness was more to do with the fact I've got a shitload on my plate.
 
And then I've noticed more and more PMT-like symptoms. I've been bleeding monthly, not just a little, a lot. And I've been plummeting into the depths of despair on a regular basis. Black moods come from nowhere and I feel absolutely murderous towards people I love. And my ability to cry at the drop of a hat could have won us a further gold at the Olympics.
 
And, this is going to really sound over-dramatic, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about dying. I've been feeling like I haven't got long left.
 
Which is silly. Ludicrous.
 
So I've come to a conclusion that something else is in control. At the advice of a new doctor, I've had the "Mirena Bastard Coil" removed, as I now call it. As regards the effect this may have, it's early days. The moods are still pretty black, but I'm hoping the cloud will lift. 
 
And it hasn't helped that I've now been bleeding for three weeks straight. I'm utterly depleted.
 
After a huge rant at my boyfriend earlier, he came back at me with the usual phrase…
 
"And THERE you go again!!!"
 
And I thought…
 
NO. No I don't. Because this isn't ME. This isn't who I want to be. Please help me. I'm out of control, desperately trying to reign myself in, but not knowing how.
 
I'm a positive person, normally. I've always had a sense of humour even about some of the darkest sides of life. I watched something on the TV the other day and heard myself laugh. It sounded odd, like a newborn baby trying out its shout for the first time. My boyfriend said, "Aw, it's so nice to see you smile again." 
 
And I thought to myself…
 
Yes. I've not really "been here", have I?
 
My heart broke as he said it… 
 
… because I just want "me" back.
 

One thought on “The Unseen Enemy

  1. Every single time I go to the doctors they try to push mirena at me. Every single time I patiently explain I wouldn’t touch it with a fucking barge pole. I’ve heard nothing but bad experiences from women who have/have had it. Evil bastard device!

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