Book of Eucalypt

There will be a post coming to celebrate my new book, Herne the Hunter: Myth, Legend and Devotion of the Horned God, and I am slowly working on it.

Right now, this is an update for anyone who has been inadvertently following along. I will be using words that may make people uncomfortable, and it is all to help me deal and process what I am feeling, what I am dealing with, and claiming the power of those words.

On the 13^th of May I was diagnosed in hospital with Functional Neurological Disorder. I knew prior to heading into hospital that I was in a flare, but I honestly thought it had more to do with my Hashimoto’s and/or histamine levels than my brain malfunctioning.

Functional Neurological Disorder, or FND, was described to me by the neurologist as “It’s not a hardware issue with the brain with lesions or injury, it is a software problem. The software is misfiring, and because it’s software there is no physical signs, but it is very real.”

I laughed because of all the people who would end up with FND because of past trauma, possible C-PTSD and after 28 years of PMDD mental abuse…of course. I haven’t properly stopped and had a break since the first break in almost five years ago. I have been stuck in Flight (not fight) since that night.

The irony for someone like me who LOVES words, is that FND took that away from me during the height of the flare. It slowed my brain so I couldn’t string a sentence together, I had a very limited vocabulary at one stage (in the hospital in particular) and my cognitive function was dialled back so much I didn’t feel comfortable driving.

I could barely speak. I certainly couldn’t write.

Not a love letter to someone special for their birthday, not a blog post, and certainly not on the next book. My personality changed. I realised today that the “spiralling” of my moods was panic attacks, not signs of BPD2 or other family-traits that may or may not be genetic.

The moments of screaming at myself in frustration inside, the frantic arm movements that I had put down to Autistic Sensory overload, the insane desire to just peel my skin from my bones…these were all panic attacks that I had been having for years without being able to give them a proper name, that I had put down to living in mould or food allergies, but were because my nervous system was unable to regulate.

I know I have stopped FND flares in the past, and usually it involved me disappearing suddenly to escape my local town to process some of my shit. I do believe this was my second proper flare, with my first leading me into Mental Health from auditory hallucinations a month after the house was broken into (and my car stolen) for the first time.

What happens for me?

In the peak of the flare, I would lose my words if…

I was too hot.
I was too cold.
I was masking my AuDHD.
I was exhausted.
I was upset.
I was hungry.
I was thirsty.

I would celebrate each time with, “my words are back!” Even if I got to talk normally for five minutes, it was such a relief.

At writing this, it has been two weeks since this flare really kicked in. My speaking is “normal” when I am in a panic attack, when I am super excited about a topic of conversation, when I have eaten. I am trialling with carb and sugar intake because of my insane food tolerance issues but it’s all fluctuating. And the exhaustion that comes after speaking “normally” is really, really hard at the moment.

So what does this mean moving forward?

I currently am on medical leave for work. I will be returning slowly, primarily WFH to help reduce the stress of travelling in, at least until my Neurological follow up.

I am so proud that I am able to sit at the computer today and type this because yesterday I honestly thought this was never going to be achievable again. Thank the Gods for Dark Mode because it is helping me immensely.

Being able to sit and type this with full cognitive ability, despite my words being delayed for the last few hours, is a massive achievement for me.

I don’t know what is going to happen moving forward completely, and part of allowing FND to help me resettle into a new routine is not forward-planning to the point of becoming so overwhelmed that I can no longer function.

Because that is how I ended up here in the first place.

I am lucky enough to have a diagnosis, which I did have to fight for in the hospital, but that is not something I will ever be writing about here. Let’s just say the hospital team proved me right, I went hysterical on them, and I took back so much power from years of sideline trauma.

I have found a psychologist to help me deal with any unprocessed trauma that has brought me to this point. I acknowledge that I “got off easy” with my Functional Vocal and Functional Cognitive elements of my diagnosis – I don’t have the motor function challenges that many do with this diagnosis. I did with my gait, but each day that is coming better.

In a blink of an eye my life has changed, and if slowing down is what I need to do to manage my own FND, then I guess that’s what I’ll be doing.

I’ve got this.