My first attempt at getting an article published

[[lo...]]

Thought I would send this to Mensa magazine to test reactions.

 

 

 

Free to be me after 40 years

 

I was a shy young lass.  Born into an ordinary working class family in rural Scotland, I excelled academically. It was the post War era and money was scarce.  My early years were blighted with poor health, just as my adult life has been.

 

My big sister was my heroine.  Full of energy and fun, she was into the pop music of the day.  She left school and home at age 15, to work as a nanny in the south of England.  Thereafter, I was essentially an only child except in the holidays.  She took me to my first live pop concert in Aberdeen, it was 1965 and the Rolling Stones were just starting out.  Aged 10, I screamed as loudly as I possibly could.

 

I was eight when we moved house and I started at a new school.  "There are thousands of kids", I announced.  After my fifty pupil village school, it certainly seemed like it.  My new class was almost as big as my old school.  I travelled by bus.  Transport was a necessity for me and a car had been provided by the Education Authority at my first school.  No such luxury for big sister who continued to use her bicycle.

 

My parents were in their 50s and this was a source of embarrassment for an insecure teenager.  Each year I collected more and more prizes as they proudly looked on.  Unpopular with the boys, I became more studious, more withdrawn and more daunted at the thought of life after school.  The fact that I lived in The Castle provided some kudos.  The surrounding estate provided ample freedom for a young lass and her dog, her sole and loyal companion. 

 

University was an alien world.  Mum and dad had left school at 14.  The laird thought I would make a good secretary but the headmaster said I was "too clever".  Naively, I set off to a major English city to study French and German.  I lasted only a few weeks.  However, undeterred, I secured a job in the civil service in London and was ready to leave home again.  Even better, I was going to be near my big sister, by then married with a baby son.

 

The mornings were the worst. Whatever I had in my hand, often a cake of soap, would go flying through the air as my arms jerked without warning.  This continued for a year or so. We didn't just go to the doctor at the drop of a hat.  Then the panic attacks came and I was unhappy and depressed.  I applied to teacher training college back home.  Surely studying would help.

 

I did well academically as I had done at school.  However, I was lonely and unable to make friends.  My best friend at school was by this time well established at Aberdeen University. One day I fell downstairs due to leg jerks, it was time to consult my family doctor.  Myoclonic epilepsy was diagnosed and nitrazepam prescribed.  Within two months my body weight had plummeted from 8.5 stones to 6.5 stones and I tried to commit suicide.

 

The next ten years can only be described as hell.  Psychiatrists, antidepressants, in patient stays, day patient attendance, and many more suicide attempts.  I had no desire to be in this world any longer.  Married to a fellow patient, we struggled to keep going.  I had become unable to function in any meaningful way.  Agoraphobia, monophobia, depression, paranoia, compulsive eating, these were just some of the symptoms I endured.

 

At age thirty, I went back to college. Shorthand and typing would at least get me a job, and other subjects such as law and economics proved interesting.  It was a terrible ordeal but I did not give up. Once again I did well, being awarded the prize for Best Student in Scotland.  Confidence boosted, I applied to join Mensa.  The result was unexpected but so very reassuring.  My intelligence was officially intact.

 

Four years of stable employment followed.  My mother died and my marriage ended.  A new start was required.  I returned to university, age 34, and graduated four years later with an upper second class honours degree.  Graduation was a proud day.  My dad was there, if only my mum had still been alive.

 

A research career in the NHS followed and I did reasonably well.  A nice home, a good salary and a modest pension to look forward to.  My health continued to deteriorate, however.  Still on anti-depressants, I trudged through each day, fighting the ever present depression and the side effects of the drugs.

 

I published in academic journals, attended conferences at home and abroad, presented my research and fielded questions. I had come an awfully long way and felt it was more than I could ever have hoped for. Plagued by stomach problems, I was a regular visitor at the GP surgery. All the pills for irritable bowel syndrome were tried along with exclusion diets.  Nothing helped. Finally I was forced to retire early on health grounds.

 

Soon after my departure from work, I consulted a chiropractor.  I had been astonished to learn that they treated stomach problems.  Within six weeks, I was cured.  My spine had been misaligned and pressing on nerves leading to the gut.  No wonder pills and diet had made no difference. Twenty years sitting in front of a computer had taken their toll.

 

It was time to celebrate my new found freedom, freedom from pain and distress.  I spotted an advert - 50th Anniversary Rolling Stones Concert - O2 London.  That was it.  My pop idols.  Tickets had long been sold out but could still be bought on the secondary market.  I knew the risks but didn't care.  I secured the best seat available.  Standing in the PIT was outside my price range.  Big sister declined to come.  It was too expensive, even to see Mick Jagger.

 

I had a phenomenal time.  Filled with childhood and teenage memories, I followed Mick Jagger's every move with my binoculars.  And boy could he move!  Impressive for 69.  I did not want these feelings to end.  Back in my holiday apartment, I trawled the internet.  A VIP ticket, New York, 8 December 2012, that was it, I was going.  It was even better than the O2.  Standing at the stage, I could almost touch them.

 

Back to reality.  A new GP, a new suggestion.  I should stop taking nitrazepam.  I knew there were good reasons.  Increased risk of falls in the elderly, possible links with lung cancer and Alzheimer's.  I was frightened.  After 40 years, what was going to happen?

 

I tapered over three months and experienced no withdrawal symptoms.  Neither did I have any signs of epilepsy.  It was amazing.  However, I became gradually more depressed but that was nothing new.  It was odd though because I had nothing to worry about now, just my retirement to "enjoy".

 

By September 2013, I was bedridden and have remained so ever since.  I have never been so physically ill in all my life.  Every nerve in my body seemed to scream out at me.  I could hardly lift my head off the pillow.  Living alone, I could only go to the toilet and get something to eat and drink.  A weekly bath was a terrible ordeal.  Showers were impossible as I could not stand long enough.  I was too ill to see anyone for three months.

 

Yet, a miracle had occurred.  I was depression free for the first time in 40 years and have been so for 21 months. There is no doubt in my mind that nitrazepam was the main cause of my lifetime of misery.  For 40 years I have felt alone, not cut off from others as I had thought, but cut off from my own emotions.  Everything now makes sense.  Yet, not once in all that time, did a doctor question the possible effects of that drug.

 

My friends who have been there for me through thick and thin have made everything bearable.  Intellectual satisfaction has kept me going.  Now at 61, I am still confined to bed 95% of the time, but I now have hope.  Perhaps I will get well and maybe, just maybe, I will attend a Mensa event before it is too late.

 

 

 

 

 

[[Ga...]]

Dear Fiona,

 

I really enjoyed your story and I hope you get accepted

 

 

[[bo...]]

Very nice. Good luck!

 

[[lo...]]

Thank you both. 

 

Hugs

 

Fiona 

[[lo...]]

Any more feedback?

 

Too sad, too depressing, too long, too boring??

 

>  :idiot:  :tickedoff:

 

Have sent it off but no idea whether it will be accepted.

 

Never done this before.

[[Fi...]]

Very interesting to read your story, Fiona.  I hope you won't mind that I copied it to my writer friend who was born in Lockerbie.  I had been telling her about you already.  She is of an intellectual bent too. 

 

Just rooting for you to get well!  Hang in there!  Your story will be amazing.

[[...]]

Fiona,

A good write and a good read. It is a feel good story - triumph over adversity and not slating off doctors or blaming anyone so it has a good chance of acceptance. I have been writing for a few years (poetry mainly) but strangely my creativity has vanished since my taper started so only my blog now LOL. I don't mind, I will get back to art and writing when I am able to. It is very healing :thumbsup:

I am glad you are healed and continue to heal and I believe you will get your life back and you will attend Mensa for sure. Can you go out in a wheelchair maybe?

I think you could be a great cartoonist with the critters too.  I would look forward to a daily column on their lives.

You have a really creative mind, so precious.

 

Love Moya XX

 

[[lo...]]

Thanks, FJ & Moya.

 

Life story now 24,500 words.  No more material ...... as yet.

 

Only the future. 

 

Good way to pass the time.

 

Hugs

 

Fiona 

[[Ga...]]

Fiona

 

it was not depressing, it was uplifting....

 

you are looking fwd to attending your first Mensa meeting

 

we had a friend here who went, they had cook outs, etc you'd enjoy it.

 

maybe next yr you can apply?

[[lo...]]

Hope so, gard.  Monthly meetings here in Aberdeen, just informal over lunch.

 

That would be a start.

 

Fiona 

[[Ja...]]

Hi Fiona ,

 

I just want to tell you that I really enjoyed reading your story immensely.

 

Not sad, not depressing, not long, not boring....

 

I felt like I was reading an autobiography, which I was...and it left me wanting more.

 

I used to read constantly, but now with sx that are still brutal physically and some cog fog, I can't concentrate well or sit still.

 

Good luck, you deserve all the good fortune in the world. 

 

              Sincerely, Jadetortoise 🐢

 

 

 

[[lo...]]

Thank you so much, Jade.

 

You are very kind.

 

I wish you were doing better.

 

Hugs

 

Fiona 

[[mo...]]

Excellent letter 

The same "miracle" happened to me 

It does get better ..

[[lo...]]

Thank you, mp.

 

Still no reply from Editor! 

 

Fiona