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Mackerel and Mirtazapine

by makeupandmirtazapine on March 12, 2013 in Food, Cooking & Recipes, Health & Fitness, Mental Health & Wellbeing

“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well” ~ Virginia Woolf

I explained before that when I first started working I went through a period of a major depression. This was self diagnosed, but since the symptoms were near enough exactly the same as the major depression that I had diagnosed by my psychiatrist, I feel pretty confident in making that assertion.

Anyway, during this time I was unable to get registered with a doctor, and wasn’t really ready to look the extent of my problem head on, so I spent a lot of time looking for anything and everything that I could do by myself to try to feel better.

And one thing that did seem to help me to feel a lot more stable was this diet. I don’t know whether it was the diet itself, or the fact that having something to be OCD about sticking to made me feel somehow more in control of things, but it helped, so I thought I’d share it with you. As this was seven years ago I’m afraid I can’t remember or find the information that I originally looked at that suggested it might help.

This isn’t anything ground breaking, it’s essentially the GI diet plus a few extra details. The idea is that you:

Eat at least seven portions of fruit and/or vegetables a day,
Eat three serving of fish per week, ideally fish that contains high concentrations of omega three,
Eat two portions of red meat each week,
Don’t eat any processed food, at all,
Also cut out wheat as far as is practicable; meaning that for the carbohydrate portion of meals you’re looking at eating rice, or jacket potatoes, rather than pasta or bread,
Aim to choose foods that fall as low on the glycemic index as possible,
And also cut out sugar, caffeine, and alcohol.

After following this diet for a few months I felt physically and mentally healthier. It was by no means a total panacea, I still had health problems and I still had depression, but they weren’t as bad as they had previously been.

I also found that being on this diet taught me a lot about food and cooking, which I started to enjoy. And after a while stodgier foods like burgers or fish and chips became completely unappetising to me. I could even take or leave chocolate.

If this sounds like it might be of interest to you I’m going to post some of my favourite recipes that work with this plan over the next few weeks. I’ll start off with a mackerel recipe for a main meal, and a snack replacement for one of my junk food favourites.

If you want to learn more about the GI diet in particular I recommend grabbing a copy of the GI High-Energy Cookbook: Low-GI recipes for weight loss, health and vitality, by Rachael Anne Hill, from your local independent bookshop. Or Amazon. It has a great explanation of the glycemic index and how the diet works, as well as some fantastic recipes.

Or, if you’d prefer an app, I’ve found lots of recipes that I like on Low Fat Recipes – Diet, Lose Fat, Lose Weight, which I downloaded to my iPad through the App Store. It has a section devoted to Lower GI recipes, as well as ideas for people who need a diet that is lactose free, gluten free, diabetes friendly, or low in cholesterol. It’s also has budget, vegetarian, and kid friendly sections, and, my particular favourite, a section devoted to comfort food recipes.

Mackerel with Mustard and Lemon Butter

Serves 4

Ingredients:

4 fresh mackerel, gutted and cleaned
200kg/6-8oz spinach leaves
115kg/4oz of melted butter
30ml/2 tablespoons whole grain mustard
grated rind of one lemon
30ml/2 tablespoons lemon juice
45ml/3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Method:

1. To make the mustard and lemon butter mix together the melted butter, mustard, lemon rind and juice, parsley, and seasoning.

I’ve actually used English mustard here, and the lemon juice is from a bottle, so there is no rind. But, baby, it’s cold outside. Snowing in fact; so I didn’t fancy venturing out just to buy a lemon and a different mustard for the sake of making an authentic picture.

2. Next scour the skin of each mackerel four or five times.

3. Place the mackerel on a grilling rack and brush the mustard and lemon butter equally over each of the mackerel.

4. Grill the mackerel for five minutes on each side, or until cooked through, basting where appropriate.

5. Serve the mackerel with the spinach as an accompaniment.

6. If you have any mustard and lemon butter remaining heat this in a small pan until sizzling and pour over the mackerel, on the plates.

Chicken and Pepper Noodles

Serves 1

Now, before I started on this diet/fad/meal-plan/whatever, I was an avid fan of Super Noodles. They were quick, comforting, and filling; just what I thought I needed. Here I’ve devised a much healthier alternative that’s just as quick to prepare.

Ingredients

One portion of rice stick noodles
One chicken stock cube
One red pepper
One yellow pepper
Freshly ground black pepper

Method:

1. Place rice stick noodles to boil, in water, in a pan.

2. Dissolve the chicken stock cube into the pan along with the noodles.

3. While the noodles are cooking take the peppers and slice them in half.

4. Dice one half of the red pepper into very small pieces, then do the same with one half of the yellow pepper.

5. When the rice stick noodles are cooked drain them and place them into a bowl.

6. Sprinkle the diced peppers on top of the noodles along with some ground black pepper.

7. Serve.

Drinking Buddies

by makeupandmirtazapine on March 7, 2013 in Health & Fitness, Life

“I’ve got some friends, some that I hardly know. We’ve had some times I wouldn’t change for the world.” – Rise Against, Swing Life Away

A few weeks ago I posted about how my relationship with alcohol gradually turned sour and the point at which I decided enough was enough and that I ought to take at least a hiatus from drinking altogether. When I originally wrote that, for an earlier incarnation of this blog, a lot of people were very interested in how I was getting on, and in seeing just how easy or difficult it is to maintain an alcohol free lifestyle in the midst of our social drinking culture.

There were also some people who expressed concern for me as I had worried them with my comparison of myself to the West Wing character Leo McGarry.

So I thought that it was high time for me to write a follow-up.

First of all a little background.

It probably won’t surprise you hear that I’ve never been exactly okay in the head. Whether that’s because I have a chemical imbalance, or because of traumatic experiences that I’ve had, or because my parents just failed to socialise me properly, I’ve never felt that I particularly meshed well with the rest of the world. And when I was teenager and wanted desperately to just find somewhere that I could fit in I found this terribly difficult to live with.

That was until I discovered alcohol.

Alcohol is a great leveler. It gives shy people the courage to join in with social groups. And it allows people who don’t quite have their brain straight usually a chance to blend in with the rest of the inebriated crowd.

That and an addictive personality led to my drinking heavily throughout sixth form, and then being drunk more often than I wasn’t between the ages of nineteen and about twenty-four.

I think I was drunk every single day of the first year after I graduated and started full-time working.

That was partly due to my working environment; long liquid lunches with clients were positively encouraged, and then there was a pub exactly six steps from the office that no-one ever quite managed to walk on passed at the end of the day.

Partly it was due to the fact that everyone I knew outside of work was still studying, and after a few drinks to wind down with my colleagues I was on out partying like a student.

And partly it was because this was the first time that the full extent of my mental health problems had come bubbling unmistakably to the surface.

I couldn’t be on my own. And when I was on my own I couldn’t stop crying. And my definition of being on my own including being seated on an overcrowded bus.

I had a pain that seemed to be coming from my soul as much as from any physical place, and much of the time it hurt so badly that I was convinced that it had to kill me.

The Samaritans‘ text service was consistently the most messaged number on my phone bill. I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone and actually speak to anyone. I didn’t want to have to admit to the way I was feeling, even to myself. And even if I had there wouldn’t have been any treatment available, I simply couldn’t get myself registered with a doctor.

I was completely stressed out, all the time, and drinking alcohol was the only thing that chilled me out enough to feel normal, never mind merry or drunken.

And yet I’m not writing this to give you another woe is me, this was my the start of my descent in to addiction story

Whatever it was that had been going haywire in my brain eventually settled down, and after a couple of moves across the country I eventually found myself in a healthier working environment, and part of social circle who met mostly in each others’ homes.

Between that and the fact that I was dirt poor drinking became less of a part of my life.

That is until some bad stuff went down and I developed PTSD, moved across the country yet again, and went back to hanging out with students and other heavy drinking martial artists.

That was the period that eventually prompted my original post about drinking and how unhealthy my relationship with alcohol had become.

And after that I did struggle with my relationship with alcohol. I tried to give it up completely, but it is hard when our entire social culture revolves around pubs, and wine bars, and restaurants that all serve alcohol.

And the thing is, nobody else wants you to stop drinking. Not even your dearest friends. Not even the people who are familiar with the kind of turbulent emotional history that I’ve just explained to you. They tell you that you’re being ridiculous to stop drinking completely; that all you need to do is cut down and drink in moderation.

When you explain that moderation is not possible for you they react as though you’re simply being obstinate. When you show them something like the clip below as you feel that it’s a perfect illustration of why cutting down just wont work, they tell you that this isn’t how you feel at all. They put forward the patently ridiculous notion that the West Wing is simply debating 101 and in fact nobody in the real world actually feels like this at all.

Because the thing is, people don’t want to believe that you have anything less than a comfortable relationship with alcohol. They don’t want to see you in that way because you’re someone like them. And so if they’re forced to see that you have a problem with drinking then they might also have to face up to seeing a reflection of themselves, and the possibility that their own habit has become as much a dependence as a hobby.

But I persevered. And it helped a lot that I flat-out can’t drink now as well as taking my mirtazapine. And I can’t stop taking the mirtazapine because then I’d end up feeling suicidal again. But I got there, and alcohol now plays a negligible part in my life.

But I have noticeably fewer friends than I used to have. And people who I had thought knew me better than anyone, people who I thought would still be there when we were old and grey, have just disappeared. Because for all the intimacies that we shared our relationships were just too deeply rooted in habitual drunkenness to survive the removal of alcohol.

And that’s before you even consider the number of people who you knew purely as drinking buddies, your friendships consisting solely of nights out in a pub or a club.

But the thing is, if you offered me the chance to change anything. If you could wave a magic wand and make it all not have happened, I wouldn’t erase any of it save for the PTSD related binges.

Partying and the friends I made while getting completely wasted were responsible for some of the best and most memorable times of my life, moments that happened even in the midst of my first breakdown with depression. In the absence of access to medication the routine at least was the main thing that kept me going. So what difference does it really make how well I really knew them, or how much else we might have had in common?

The reckless abandon of which I was only capable because I was drinking so heavily is the reason that I’ve already been to some of the most amazing places on earth.

I was only able to show you those photos of the Oslo Opera House because my now former landlady told me that Ryanair had a five-pound flight sale as I was getting home from the pub one evening. I went online and drunkenly booked tickets for myself and two friends to the first place that they still had tickets left.

I also have a bunch of awesome stories from that trip. At least half of which involve large amounts of drinking. And once again, I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I guess my point is that I don’t think habitual use of alcohol is inherently any better or worse than habitual abstinence, so long as you are able and willing to take responsibility for your own health in the long run. And that over use of alcohol can be as much a sign of an attempt at controlling a worse problem, than it can of its being an issue in its own right.

Fat Is A PTSD Issue

by makeupandmirtazapine on March 6, 2013 in Health & Fitness, Mental Health & Wellbeing

“If you are young and you drink a great deal it will spoil your health, slow your mind, make you fat – in other words, turn you into an adult.” ~ P. J. O’Rourke

So, I think I’ve mentioned a few times that the combination of taking mirtazapine and not going out much have caused me to put on weight. And that, while I’m not especially bothered about this I’ve been trying to make an effort to lose some of it, mainly so that I can fit into my favourite clothes again.

It has occurred to me that I may have been somewhat in denial about this.

I was looking through all the pictures of me on Facebook to see whether there were any that I could use for the WordPress weekly writing challenge without compromising the anonymity of the blog. And I’ve noticed that I looked fantastic just a few years ago, and I never even realised it.

And while there was a split second where I compared the pictures from then to the way I look now, and felt a slight pang of regret, that was immediately replaced with a sharper tinge of fear that I could ever look that way again and have people notice me.

You see, I’ve been telling myself that I haven’t actually lost any weight because I’ve never really got started at trying. And that I’ve never really started at trying because the only time that my appearance bothers me is when I look at old photographs.

But haven’t really been honest with myself about it.

Because I did start trying and made a fair old start on it, before Christmas. I’d lost at least half of the weight I’d been aiming too.

And then somebody noticed. And they commented on it.

And then I deliberately undid all my good work by eating a boat load of crisps and chocolate.

And I never even realised what I was doing until now. It hadn’t dawned on me that I’m in my comfort zone just the way I am. Fewer strangers pay me attention now than they did before, and that’s just the way I want it stay.

Because while I might be sufficiently better that I’m able to walk around a supermarket and pick up all the things I that I need without having a monumental freak out and running away, I’m not really ready to engage with the wider world outside the little bubble of my life.

My PTSD is still, to some extent making me afraid.

While I’m reasonably comfortable now around other crazy people, and can I pretty much cope with the people I know who’ve stuck around through all my crazy, I still scared of being approached by ‘normal’ strangers, on a ‘normal’ footing, in a ‘normal’ way. Especially if they’re male people.

I’m still as apt as not to find small talk from strangers threatening.

So I’m still doing as much as I possibly can to avoid it. Including polishing off a whole box of Cadbury’s mini rolls in one sitting.

Which is completely irrational really. I have PTSD as a result of something that happened with somebody I knew well enough to have invited into my home for a cup of tea and a bit of a gossip.

But I suppose at least now I’ve actually identified the problem. Now all I need is decide what I’m going to do about it.