Blog 16th Feb to 22nd Feb 2015 "King Baby" makes life unbearable for everyone!

Blog 16th Feb to 22nd Feb 2015 This week I have mainly been moany, whiney, needy and really championing my inner child. I just showed that sentence to Owen and he was in wholehearted agreement with it! The trigger? having a cold, not plague, not amputation, not life threatening illness, a simple common cold! I am not very good at being under the weather; in fact I am a right royal pain in the arse. When I was using I was on so many drugs that I never really felt colds or ailments. This is the second time I’ve had a cold in recovery, the first time it came as a huge shock, I felt rotten for the first time and didn’t everyone know about it! This time it’s exactly the same, sitting on the pity pot, not following the programme properly, cutting corners, making bargains, negative head and listening to my own will. It all started last weekend when Owen went away, I started to over eat. Then I had issues with two of my children. Then the cold started, the combination of these three factors tipped me into a negative frame of mind. That is not a good place for me to be. Paranoia kicks in, then self-sabotage and self-doubt. Stress over the children affects me greatly, I feel as a mother I should be able to take their problems away and make it all better for them. I feel as though I am responsible for their pain and I need to wade in and rescue them instead of leaving well alone for them to make their own decisions - and then I get angry at them for involving me and being that way. I then didn’t tell Owen as I didn’t want him to become stressed and put pressure on him, then I got angry as I felt I was making all the decisions myself. I couldn’t be bothered to pray (didn’t see the bloody point) skipped a meeting (far too poorly and tired) then deliberately ate two pancakes with butter, maple syrup and condensed milk. The following day I sat and ate my evening meal in front of the TV making the excuse again (of being desperately ill) I have felt restless discontented and bored. I have felt unloved and unlovable and have had more faces than Big Ben with poor long-suffering Owen. I am not proud of this behaviour but I feel I need to share it as it is an honest portrayal of how difficult I can be to live with. Another thing I became angry at is that I want to go away for a week at the beginning of March. When I put this to Owen he didn’t seem mighty keen on the idea. I interpreted this as “You don’t love me and you don’t want to go away with me, AKA you are going to leave me” Tears, anger and “King Baby” behaviour followed. Owen tried to explain that the last two times I have been on holidays I have become unwell and suggested that the ‘joyous occasion’ had not been a bundle of fun for him. I was furious “This means we will never go on holidays again!” Cue Tantrum. “You just don’t want to go on holidays with me!” “You don’t want to spend time with me!” “I’ll go on my own then!” Tears, quivering lip, shouting. I tried to calm down and explain that I wanted to spend some quality time with him; I wanted a break as I felt like I was on a bit of a treadmill and could do with some time to relax and work on our relationship. I could not guarantee that I would not struggle but had an action plan and would follow a recovery programme when we were away, do some writing, step work and share some sightseeing around the area. Owen can choose where we go and it will be nice to spend a week together and become closer as a couple. Owen has agreed to this and I am grateful to have such an understanding and caring partner in my life. This week I am going to climb off my pity-pot and get back on the steps and practising the programme. Not paying lip service but putting the action in and doing the positives that make recovery so worthwhile Julie

I need to think of patio furniture and kindly people who try to make you feel better

Blog 9th of Feb to the 14th of Feb 2015 I had an interesting and thought-provoking OA meeting on Monday night; the reading from Lifeline (the OA book of experience strength and hope) was in turn both inspiring and very painful. The one sharing was recalling his tale of a crippling addiction to food that resulted in him staying at home for six years eating. Eating himself to death. He could see no way out, it wasn’t a choice for him and he knew no other way. His life was dominated by the thinking, the getting and the eating. What really struck me was the embarrassment and humiliation so acutely recalled by this man - his self-consciousness, humiliation and low self-esteem. Yet through all this, trying to deny that it was happening, making light of it and pretending that he was A OK with it when he was dying of shame inside. He was so large that he could not travel by car: public transport was certainly not an option and whenever he walked or went anywhere he felt that the eyes of the world were on him (which they probably were and most certainly judging). He told the story of collecting an award and feeling mortified standing on the platform knowing that he was going to be spoken about not for his work but for his enormity. He refused a lift home as he couldn’t bare the shame of not being able to fit the passenger seat, and hid behind a bush when the other cars left for fear that he would be approached again. He was stranded miles from home in sub-zero temperatures, too scared to ring a taxi and in a hopeless situation. Just by listening to his experience his shame resonated through me. I think it’s one of the most powerful shares I have heard since attending OA. Although this man’s disease had reduced him to feeling this way, he carried on for a further six years until he found the fellowship. The rest of his share was about his recovery. My identification was one of humiliation, the anxiety the fear of what other people would think. I would be embarrassed on behalf of Owen, always thinking that he was terribly ashamed to be seen with me because of my bulk. When I had the gastric band fitted I would feel guilty and ashamed eating in front of him thinking that he was watching every mouthful I shovelled in to my mouth and anticipating confrontation and a dirty look. I felt ashamed and disgusted but I kept shovelling, thinking it would take the pain away. I thought about the times when I was scared to board a plane as I feared the humiliation of the belt not fitting and the big orange one for the obese or pregnant ones around me. I was once thrown off a roller-coaster in Oakwood as I was too big to secure the safety bar. The shame burned as I had to walk past the other passengers. To add insult to injury I was with a patient who took great delight in telling the world and his wife about the incident. As usual I laughed along with them but inside it was a very different story, one of self-loathing and entrapment. Another OA member shared his fear of plastic patio furniture and how it had collapsed under him; again hilarious (just so long as it isn’t you). And the sympathy from well-meaning people: “Is your family big love?” “But you carry it well, you’re tall see.” I could be 7 foot and I still wouldn’t be the right weight for me! It’s horrible and these are the thoughts that I need to dwell on when I feel deprived or petulant or angry with my illness. I need to think of patio furniture and people who kindly try to make you feel better. Blog 15th Feb to 22nd Feb 2015 Like a sad and lonely creature I went to see 50 Shades of Grey in the cinema on its launch date. I was sat on my Jack Jones like Billy-no-mates surrounded by groups of sniggering girls and yummy Mummy’s. This film has had its fair share of controversy. There were groups of protestors at the premier calling for it to be banned and claiming that it sensationalises abuse. For my part I just saw it as a silly schoolgirl-type fantasy. “And what first attracted you to the billionaire Mr Grey, Anastasia?” What did strike me was the striking beauty both in face and body of the two actors in the main parts. This film worked because they did. Would it have worked if they had employed two moderately averagely attractive, slightly porky people to play the leads? Would it hell! There was something stagnant, sterile and empty about it. Would a young educated beautiful woman sign a contract to hand herself over to be the submissive of a dominant businessman? Well, she did get a helicopter ride, an Apple computer and a car. She also got a very sore backside, humiliation, confusion and a compulsion to keep on going back for more. Only she could change him and unlock the dark secret of why he was scared of intimacy. The ultimate in co-dependency. Dominance is never about love, it’s about exercising total power and control over another human being. It sends out a strong message that you are never going to be good enough. In reality, Mr Grey would never have fallen for Anastasia; she would have been a business arrangement, another possession, a sexual agreement. How many other women have clung on to unsuitable, unscrupulous men such as this, wasting precious years being co-dependent, losing themselves, their dignity and integrity in the process, always coming last? At the end of the film, following a particularly savage and non-erotic beating, she decides to leave him. He has crossed the line, she has the upper hand; the balance of power has changed. This is Hollywood. In Cardiff she’d be in casualty, terrified, ashamed and messed-up. I thought back to another film that I had seen years ago, this film too was sexually controversial but for totally different reasons. The film was German and it was extremely brave in that it featured graphic sex scenes, not by nubile young people but by men and women over seventy. The film was called “Cloud Nine” and unlike 50 Shades it was real. It was moving, it covered real feelings and emotions (the lead characters were embroiled in a heart-breaking affair) and it was beautiful. It was sensitively portrayed and took you on an emotional roller-coaster. It was so powerful it stayed with me for years afterwards; I can’t see the same fascination with 50 Shades. Our body image plays such a huge part in our sexuality; young women are seldom comfortable in their own skins. I was so self-conscious of my body growing up. I was always the one struggling to get changed on the beach with six towels wrapped round me, living in fear that one would drop and I’d be exposed to the world. I can remember being horribly aware of my body as a child, feeling different, less than, non-attractive and gangly, tall, buck-toothed and ashamed. I always felt ugly. I hated school photo day, I was so tall that no one knew where to place me, there would generally be a debate that concluded with me either plonked on the end like a bookend or stuck in the middle like a sore thumb. I never felt at home with my body. And I have always found it very difficult to believe that anyone would find my body attractive. Childbirth, weight gain, weight loss, varicose veins and stretch marks have all taken their toll. Mine is a body that has seen a bit of life that has been neglected and not cared for particularly well. I gained false confidence when I was drinking and using drugs, my ego would reach dizzy heights and any sense of embarrassment would fade. I hid behind substances. Today in my recovery I have to try and challenge this extremely destructive negative though- pattern daily. I must not compare myself to others (especially Hollywood actresses), I must be realistic and not set unachievable goals. I will never be 7 stone; I am six foot tall for god’s sake! I must not beat myself up and self-flagellate as I give all my power and strength away. I must not compromise my behaviour and my sexuality to please others. Sex is not love. I do not need to search for “the one” to make me feel whole. I need to find myself. To recover is to become comfortable in my own skin, to be happy with what I’ve been given, to be fit, healthy, content, to enjoy and marvel at my body, to feel the right weight for me today. To love and to be loved for me and for what and who I am. You can keep your Mr Greys! Julie

The real cost of the £1 Pub

The real cost of the £1 Pub. It is a heresy today to be ‘anti business’ in any way shape or form. Small and medium sized enterprises form the bulk of our economy; therefore to be ‘anti’ their interests is, by extension, to be anti-jobs, anti-wage earners, anti-families, anti-community and anti-everything. The prevailing ideas that shape our economy tell us that no matter how harmful the business or destructive it is to those very same families and communities, as long as it is legally sanctioned it is beyond rebuke. The profusion of betting shops and payday lenders represents choice, not harm, and only ‘do gooders’ and ‘busybodies’ would seek to limit the influence of these enterprises. The language of freedom, choice and self-expression was long ago hijacked by vested interests who sell harmful or addictive products or services to vulnerable and addicted people. It has been used to present the addiction industries as crusaders for consumer rights, preventing the joyless pettifogging bureaucrat from taxing or regulating the nation’s fun away. This rather skates over the fact that this ‘fun’ periodically results in family breakdown, suicide, despair and loneliness; bookmakers, brewers and high calorie food manufacturers all adhere to the flimsiest of industry ‘responsibility’ codes which have little function other than to present them as good ‘corporate citizens’ when the reality is that they are powerful forces of social destructiveness. The argument that all business is good business will no doubt be resurrected in the coming weeks and months as a series of £1 pubs open their doors. The pubs, who sell a pint of beer for £1.50, less than half the average national retail price for alcohol, will start trading at 8am. The very idea that there is any sense of moral or social responsibility at all here is laughable, as only the most vulnerable, addicted and desperate drinkers will be looking to buy knock down price beer as soon as they wake up. Amazingly, someone, somewhere has already thought long and hard about the people they will exploit and in some cases who’s deaths they will hasten. This same individual has looked at the projected profits from this enterprise and thought that the suffering of others is more than sufficient a price worth paying. Raising any kind of moral objection to this gross irresponsibility tends to lead to the claim of being an anti-business heretic, so instead, here is a business argument, should an application for a license for a £1 Pub be applied for in Cardiff. Just as there are economic goods, it is also common for economists to describe certain products or services as ‘bads’. As you might expect, a ‘bad’ is a net drain on the economy, causing a greater loss in material resources to the community than it creates. If a new pub employs ten people at ten pounds an hour (a generous estimate, chosen for mathematical simplicity only) and hires them all for ten hours a day, then pre-tax wages will be £1,000, roughly £800 of which will circulate in the economy. If the same pub attracts vulnerable, marginalised, addicted drinkers, it must add an enormous multiplier of value to pay for the doctors, nurses, social workers, policemen, probation officers, community psychiatric nurses, addiction specialists, drop-in centres, unemployment and sickness benefits and street cleaning workers needed. In addition to this, the loss of economic productivity caused by alcoholism also needs to be factored into the decision to open a £1 Pub if we are seriously attempting to make a business case for it. Last year it was reported that nearly 17 million working days a year are lost to alcohol, which surely makes a business case for closing a few pubs down. It is sad that we must make our arguments in this way and that the rationale that ‘this will harm people’ is not enough. Discount selling of alcohol isn’t a way of putting money into our communities; it’s a non too subtle way of siphoning it off. The £1 pubs that have opened in Stockton and Middleborough will add to the impoverishment of those communities and we must be vigilant that Cardiff does not suffer a similar fate.

Blog 6th of February 2015. "I'll let him discover this for himself"

Blog 6th of February 2015 I joined a writing group on Monday night and to my surprise really enjoyed it, there were about 30 people there from all walks of life. Firstly we read a poem then we were all invited to comment on it, then we had to write a piece from someone else’s perspective. Put yourself in someone else’s shoes and walk around in them. This got me thinking about my addictions and how it may have seemed from Owen’s perspective. I have not shown him this piece yet; I thought I’d let him discover it for himself one day. I called it 3am. 3am It’s happened again, 3 o’clock, awake in the dark, waiting. I’m not surprised, I expect it. The fluorescent numbers on the digital clock change as I blink. I listen, nothing; just that still, deathly silence. Is she dead? I lie there and plan her funeral. She may as well be dead the notice she takes of us. How will I tell the kids? I get up, padding softly on the cold floorboards to the window, twitch the blind, below the street is empty apart from stray rubbish circulating. Tumble weed. I feel hollow, sick. Then a sound! I go to the toilet, is it her? Anger, blinking at the hall light left on by me so she can find the key to the lock, (If she’s not lost it again). Still nothing! I get back into bed, uneasy, fitful, restless, anxious, flailing about irritable, pathetic. The impending imploding sense of doom! What man would put up with this? She’s done it again the irresponsible, selfish cow. The door! I will not, cannot ask; instead I wait and churn. ********** I suppose the only feedback that’s important is Owen’s. And if it opens a door for Owen to talk, then so be it. My eating plan this week has been steady. I feel lighter on my feet. I am allowing myself to look in the mirror a little more. It’s slow and steady, my diet is healthy. I am buying healthy food that I like. If I am eating three meals a day they have to be enjoyable and balanced and that is my goal. I also need to mix them up now and again so I don’t get bored or develop food fads. Breakfast is samey but that’s fine as I don’t need to think; lunch and tea take planning but I’m trying to enjoy it, incorporate it into routine and not find it a chore. ‘I am the right weight for me’ today helps as does handing my food addiction over to a Higher Power every morning and texting my sponsor. I’m religiously doing my step-work in the Overeaters Anonymous (OA) books daily and I find this cathartic as it allows me some time out to focus on my programme. Julie

Roll on February....

Blog 25th of Jan to the 1st of Feb 2015 Goodbye January, hello February. A lot of people I know are glad to see the back of January; my work colleague calls it suicide season and always takes a week off. I did ask her if we were ever going to see her again as she signed out. Fortunately she came back. The months are just passages of time they all bring something with them, a special date, a birthday, an anniversary, familiar predictable weather patterns or sometimes something unexpected, devastating and life changing. Sometimes we put too much power in to them “I always get ill in November” and often we put a huge amount of power into certain dates “My father died a year today” so therefor I must be miserable and hideous to everyone I meet on that day every year. I have nursed many patients who seemed to have an anniversary of some tragic event every day of the year. They were constantly looking backwards re-living all the sadness and keeping themselves in a web of misery and despair, similar to being in active addiction. In recovery living one day at a time we need not do that. Taking each day as it comes, not regretting the past nor choosing to shut the door on it. I can’t close the door on the past, I need to keep it a little open so now and again I can glimpse back in. I need to remember how horrible it was, the nastiest most disgusting parts of my addictions, my shame, my guilt, my excess, and most importantly who I hurt and who I damaged. For me it’s an insurance policy, it’s where I don’t want to go back to. It can also be a positive reminder of how far I’ve come. And sometimes I need to hear it from those I love and harmed however cringey, uncomfortable and toe-curling it may feel. When Owen, children and friends recap on one of my “episodes” I have to listen take one for the team and let them spill it all out. For that is the reality of what I did and how it impacted on them. Neither can I live in the future, hankering and yearning for events that may never happen. ‘If wishes were horses beggars would ride’ goes the old saying. I can make goals for the future and plan to a certain extent, but even the best laid plans can go asunder and I have to accept this. I cannot control the future same as I have no control over the past. So it looks like the only solution for me today is to live in today, one day at a time. This week has ticked along. This week I have mainly found myself being irritated by other people. Self-righteous indignation perhaps a touch! I found myself having dinner with Owen last night having a good old bitch-fest and a moan about the behaviour of other people (that laughably I have no control over) totally powerless. Other people do what they do, I can’t change them, I can only change the way I react to them. The words of the serenity prayer are very apt in this case. I could choose to point out what I think are their shortcomings, but who the hell am I to do that? I’m only just starting to see my own and that’s taken long enough. 46 years! With my friends I have decided to just accept them as they are at the moment, if I am irritated and simmering inside that is my problem not theirs, it is my reaction, as Wyn says even if I feel bad I don’t have to behave badly towards them; just take a deep breath out and let it go. With work it’s slightly more difficult, I have to address problematic behaviour as it affects the team and the unit and I have a few difficult situations coming up this week where I need to address individual behaviour. I find it difficult when people come up with one hundred and fifty different excuses why they can’t or haven’t done something or when people’s egos are so out of control that they remind you of the good works they have done for you in the past conveniently forgetting that the past is not the issue. I would rather good old fashioned honesty “I’m sorry boss, I made a mess of things” rather than “My Auntie so and so is ill and my cat got run over and anyway I blame Mickey Mouse he was running the shift and after everything I’ve ever done for the good of these patients.” Excuses and blame. A familiar duo, it would do me good to remember that. It is what it is, and however I approach it (even if I’m simmering slowly inside) I need to approach it with honesty, openness, compassion and love and do it the way I would like it done to me. My eating’s been fairly stable this week; I have over-eaten on one maybe two occasions but not by a huge amount. One was an all-you-can-eat buffet (not the best of ideas for a person with an eating disorder) I am starting to enjoy the freedom that a plan gives you. I know that certain foods are no good for me so the obsession is beginning to wane. I was surprised on Friday night when I went for a meal, another friend an overeater like me had asked me if I had looked at the desert menu. It hadn’t even entered my mind. I looked at her daft “Why? Why would I want to? That would be like taunting myself”. I have decided that I do not eat deserts and with the help of my higher power there is no need to look at the desert menu. I wandered if she had an ulterior motive for asking? If I had said “Oh bugger! Let’s do it” would that have given her licence to do the same? Would my weakness have given way to hers? I did ask her why she asked and she said that she thinks there must be a little bit of self-sabotage inside her as she often has items in the house that belong to her family that are not on her eating plan. I know that I cannot do that at the moment. I could not have my trigger foods in the house as I know I would be fixating on them. The house was where the bulk (excuse the pun) of my binging occurred. That suits me just fine at the moment why put yourself through the torment when you don’t have to? So roll on February and another positive month working and living my recovery programme.

YSBRYDOLIAETH I ERAILL Meddygaeth a Dibyniaeth: Persbectif Gwraig

YSBRYDOLIAETH I ERAILL Meddygaeth a Dibyniaeth: Persbectif Gwraig Fy enw i yw Helen, rwyf ynghanol fy mhedwardegau, yn briod â Gwyn, Meddyg, ac mae gennym dri o blant oed ysgol. Ni chefais unrhyw hyfforddiant meddygol ac nid oes gen i unrhyw gefndir felly ychwaith. Rydw i wedi adnabod fy ngŵr am 25 mlynedd. Ym mis Hydref 2010, credais fod ein teulu wedi taro’r gwaelod hollol, yna yn ystod Haf 2014, sylweddolais ein bod eto mewn rhyw gylch dieflig lle nad oedd gen i unrhyw reolaeth ac, yn drist iawn, ychydig a wyddwn, roedd gwaeth i ddod. Mae fy ngŵr yn alcoholig ac yn adict ac mae wedi dioddef am nifer o flynyddoedd gyda phroblemau iechyd meddwl. Cymhwysodd fel Meddyg ym 1993 ac mewn ffaith, nid oedd yn yfed yr adeg honno. Llwyddodd i ennill ei FRCS (statws ymgynghorydd) yn fuan. Yn yr adran D&A daeth yn amlwg na allai gynnal gyrfa mewn D&A (mae storïau cyfoes yn amlygu hyn yn glir) ac felly, penderfynodd hyfforddi fel Meddyg Teulu (hefyd yn y newyddion ar hyn o bryd!). Mae hefyd wedi cymhwyso mewn Meddygaeth Alwedigaethol a Meddygaeth Liniarol. Fodd bynnag, o ganlyniad i lefelau straen uchel o fod yn Feddyg Teulu a hefyd yn berffeithydd wrth ei waith, mae wedi gweithio fel Locwm a Meddyg Teulu y Tu Allan i Oriau am yr 8 mlynedd ddiwethaf er mwyn iddo allu rheoli ei lwyth gwaith yn fwy effeithlon. Mae ei gydweithwyr a’i gleifion yn ei barchu’n uchel iawn am ei safonau gwybodaeth uchel a’i ofal ond, yn drist iawn, ac er mawr niwed iddo’i hun, mae hyn yn ei annog i weithio’n galetach. Roedd y defnydd o alcohol yn ei helpu i ymdopi gyda straen ei swydd a’i boen meddwl. Nid oedd byth yn yfed yn union cyn neu yn ystod ei waith. Ym mis Hydref 2010, teimlai na allai barhau gyda’i fywyd a gyrrodd i fan anghysbell ar fynydd lle yfodd lawer iawn o vodka. Yna, penderfynodd yrru adref a tharodd ei gar yn erbyn coeden ac i lawr i gwm serth. Galwyd ar y gwasanaethau brys ac yna cafodd ei gael yn euog o yfed a gyrru a gwaharddiad am 18 mis. Atgyfeiriodd ei hun i’r GMC. Cynhaliwyd ymchwiliad gyda nifer o asesiadau seiciatrig, cyfres o brofion gwaed ac alcohol, mynychu cyfarfodydd misol Grŵp Meddygon a Deintyddion Prydeinig (BDDG) a chafodd ddychwelyd i’w waith o dan oruchwyliaeth. Bu hwn yn gyfnod o straen aruthrol gan fod fy ngŵr yn hunangyflogedig a’r unig un oedd yn ennill cyflog i’r teulu. Gan nad oedd yn gallu gyrru a’n bod yn byw mewn man gwledig, byddai’n beicio 20 milltir yn rheolaidd i fynd i’w waith neu byddai’n rhaid i mi ei yrru yno - nid tasg hawdd pan oedd yn gweithio sifftiau y tu allan i oriau a’r plant yn yr ysgol. Fodd bynnag, llwyddom i ennill y frwydr hon, nid oedd fy ngŵr yn cyffwrdd ag alcohol ac roedd yn hynod o gydwybodol yn y modd yr oedd yn byw ei fywyd. Roeddwn wedi mynd gyda fy ngŵr i’r mwyafrif o’r asesiadau a chredwn o’r diwedd y byddai ei broblemau iechyd meddwl yn cael eu trin ac y byddai ein bywyd yn gwella. Fodd bynnag, yn fuan cyn i’m gŵr gael ei drwydded yrru’n ôl a chodi’r cyfyngiadau GMC, sylwais ar newid ynddo (yr hyn a wn yn awr i fod yn fater o ddychwelyd i ddig hunangyfiawn) a po fwyaf roeddwn i’n ystyried y sefyllfa, po fwyaf roeddwn i’n sylweddoli nad oedd unrhyw un wedi archwilio achos y broblem go iawn. Mae’n siŵr bod yn rhaid gwybod yr achos cyn gallu trin y symptomau? Roedd cynifer o weithwyr proffesiynol wedi bod yn rhan o’r broses, ond i mi, roedd pob un yn poeni mwy am ddilyn protocol. Digwyddodd yr achlysur mawr nesaf yn ystod haf 2014. Wrth geisio delio ag argyfwng yn y teulu estynedig 150 o filltiroedd i ffwrdd o’n cartref, penderfynodd fy ngŵr adael a gyrru adref er iddo fod wedi yfed ynghynt yn y dydd, ymddygiad cwbl afresymol. Ond eto, roedd mewn cyflwr afresymol (dyna berygl alcohol). Cafodd ddamwain car oedd yn cynnwys cerbyd arall gan anafu dau berson arall. Bu’n rhaid ei dorri o’r car, cafodd anafiadau difrifol a threuliodd dridiau mewn ysbyty. Cafodd gyfweliad gan yr heddlu a dychwelodd adref ar fore Sadwrn. Roedd hyn yn awr yn llawer rhy ddifrifol i mi a’r plant ddelio ag ef. Trefnais i’m gŵr fynd i ganolfan adfer breswyl a chytunodd i fynd yno. Fodd bynnag, ni allai aros am hyn ac yfodd ei hun yn hurt ar y bore Sul. Bydd y diwrnod hwn yn fy nghof am byth ac yng nghof ein plant; ambiwlans yn cyrraedd, fy ngŵr yn adfer ymwybyddiaeth mewn ysbyty ac yna’n dianc, heddlu’n chwilio amdano ac yn y diwedd cael ei gadw o fewn Adran 2 Deddf Iechyd Meddwl. Hynod amhleserus. Wythnos yn ddiweddarach, cyrhaeddodd fy ngŵr y ganolfan adfer ac arhosodd yno am bythefnos. Roedd yn teimlo bod y drefn yn anodd ond rydw i’n hynod ddiolchgar i’r ganolfan gan iddi wneud i’m gŵr sylweddoli pa mor anhydrin oedd ei fywyd erbyn hyn. Yna, clywsom am y Stafell Fyw sydd wedi bod yn achubiaeth i’r ddau ohonom ac i’n plant. Mae’n ganolfan adfer yn y gymuned wedi’i seilio ar gefnogaeth cyfoedion ac egwyddorion y Rhaglen 12 Cam. Rydw i’n mynychu’r cyfarfodydd Grŵp Teulu’n rheolaidd ac mae’r plant yn mynychu hefyd. Mae’n rhywle lle’r ydych chi’n teimlo’n ddiogel, nid ydych yn cael eich barnu, rydych chi’n dysgu i ddeall eich sefyllfa a sefyllfa eraill a lle’r ydych chi’n rhoi ac yn derbyn cefnogaeth. Roedd fy ngŵr yn mynychu cyfarfodydd grŵp seicotherapi’n rheolaidd a chwnsela un i un a hefyd bu mewn encil ym mis Tachwedd. Erbyn hyn, mae ar ffordd wellhad yn sicr ac yn benderfynol bod ei fywyd a’n bywydau ni wedi newid am byth, nid oes troi’n ôl. Ar 12 Rhagfyr 2014 cafodd fy ngŵr ei ddedfrydu i 27 mis o garchar o ganlyniad i’r erlyniadau yn ei erbyn o’r ddamwain car ynghynt yn y flwyddyn. Teimlai’r Barnwr y dylai fod yn gwybod yn well fel dyn proffesiynol. Mae fy ngŵr yn gwybod bod yr hyn a wnaeth yn anghywir ac y dylai gael ei gosbi; mae wedi dangos cryn edifeirwch am yr hyn a wnaeth a bydd bob amser yn edifar am hyn. Mae fy ngŵr yn awr mewn system garchar sydd mewn argyfwng ac anhrefn. Mae’r plant a fi’n gweld ei golli’n ofnadwy. Wel, mae’n bosibl eich bod yn dweud "mae hyn i gyd am eich gŵr, beth amdanoch chi?" Rydw i’n dysgu llawer amdanaf fy hun drwy’r sefyllfa boenus ac anodd hon. Bu’n rhaid i mi ofyn beth sydd orau i’r 3 phlentyn a fi ac nid dim ond i fy ngŵr. Mae’n flinedig iawn yn emosiynol. Rydw i’n credu yn yr uned deuluol. Nid wyf yn credu bod fy ngŵr yn ddyn drwg na pheryglus, i’r gwrthwyneb yn llwyr; mae’n fwyn, yn garedig ac yn ofalus, ond mae’n sâl. Mae’n awyddus i wella ac yn awr, mae yn gwella ond mae hwn yn llwybr y bu’n rhaid i ni gael hyd iddo ein hunain, ni chafwyd unrhyw arweiniad proffesiynol na chyfraniad meddygol cydnabyddedig. Fel yr amlygwyd yn ddiweddar yn y cyfryngau, mae diffyg cydnabyddiaeth ac ofn cydnabod problemau iechyd meddwl. Yn wahanol i salwch corfforol, mae’n gyflwr anweledig ac felly’n anodd i nifer ei deall. I gloi, mae rhai anawsterau mewn bywyd cynnar a swydd hynod anodd yn gofalu am eraill wedi golygu nad oedd gan fy ngŵr y dulliau ymdopi angenrheidiol ac, fel dyn proffesiynol, teimlai na ddylai bod angen iddo ofyn am help. Pan aeth i chwilio am help, nid oedd yn hawdd cael hyd iddo, nid oedd unrhyw un yn deall ei salwch yn iawn ac roedden nhw’n cyfaddawdu triniaeth oherwydd ei statws. Mae Stafell Fyw Caerdydd wedi dangos iddo beth sydd angen iddo ei wneud. Mae’r ateb mewn gwirionedd yn hynod syml, nid oes angen meddyginiaeth nac ymchwil parhaus, dim ond gostyngeiddrwydd, trugaredd, dealltwriaeth ac amser. Mae model adfer Stafell Fyw Caerdydd yn gweithio. Mae’n bosibl na fydd rhai’n deall ei gysyniad ar unwaith, oherwydd mae’n brofiad poenus ac estron. Ar hyn o bryd, mae fy ngŵr mewn carchar 180 milltir i ffwrdd oddi wrthym. Rydw i’n awr yn rhiant sengl, yn ddibynnol ar fudd-daliadau’r wladwriaeth. Rhywsut rydw i’n eithaf gwydn a chredaf fod hyn wedi’i fewnblannu ynof drwy fy magwraeth sy’n unol â nifer o egwyddorion Stafell Fyw Caerdydd. Rydw i’n fwy na pharod i drafod fy sefyllfa ymhellach. Mae fy ngŵr a minnau’n awyddus iawn i weld rhyw dda’n dod allan o’r dioddef rydyn ni, fel unigolion a theulu’n mynd drwyddo. Gellir cysylltu â mi drwy Wynford Ellis Owen yn Stafell Fyw Caerdydd. Helen

AN INSPIRATION TO OTHERS. Doctors and Addiction ; A Wife's Perspective

AN INSPIRATION TO OTHERS Doctors and Addiction ; A Wife's Perspective My name is Helen, I'm in my mid forties, married to Gwyn, a Doctor, and we have three school aged children. I have no medical training or background. I have known my husband for 25 years. In October 2010 I thought that our family had hit rock bottom, then in the Summer of 2014 I realised that we were again caught in a downward spiral over which I had virtually no control and sadly little did I know that there was worse to come. My husband is an alcoholic and addict, and has suffered for many years with mental health issues. He qualified as a Doctor in 1993 and in fact did not drink at that time. He soon achieved his FRCS (consultant status) in A&E, however it became apparent that a career in A&E was not sustainable (current news stories highlight this clearly), and therefore decided to train as a GP (also currently in the news!). He is also qualified in Occupational Medicine and Palliative Medicine. However, as a result of the high stress levels of being a GP and also being a perfectionist in his work, he has worked as a Locum and Out of Hours GP for the last 8 years in order that he could manage his work load more effectively. My husband is highly regarded amongst colleagues and patients for his high standards of knowledge and care but sadly this is to his own detriment; simply inducing him to work harder. Use of alcohol helped him cope with the stress of his job and the pain of his mind; he never drank directly before or during work. In October 2010 he felt unable to continue with life and drove to a remote mountain site where he consumed large amounts of vodka, he then decided to drive home and crashed his car into a tree and down a steep valley. The emergency services were called and he was subsequently found guilty of drink driving and received an 18 month driving ban. He self referred to the GMC. An investigation followed involving numerous psychiatric assessments, a regime of blood and alcohol testing, attending monthly British Doctors and Dentists Group (BDDG) meetings and he was able to return to work under supervision. This was a period of great strain as my husband was the self-employed and sole breadwinner for us, and, as he was unable to drive and we live in a rural area he would regularly cycle 20 miles to get to work or I would have to drive him - not easy when working out of hour shifts and children in school. However, we got through; my husband was abstinent from alcohol and was extremely conscientious in the way he led his life. I had accompanied my husband to the majority of his assessments and believed that at last his mental health issues would be addressed and that life for us would improve. However, shortly before my husband had his driving licence restored and GMC restrictions lifted I noticed a change, (what I now know to be the return of self-righteous indignation) and the more I considered the situation the more I realised that actually no one had truly examined the cause of the problem: surely you need to know the cause before you can treat the symptoms? So many professionals had been involved but, to my mind’s eye, everyone seemed to be concerned with following protocol. The next major event happened in the summer of 2014. In trying to deal with a crisis within the extended family 150 miles from our home, my husband decided to leave and drive home although he had drunk earlier in the day, a completely irrational behaviour. But then again he was in an irrational state (such is the danger of alcohol). He had a car crash involving another vehicle, injuring two other people, had to be cut from his car, suffered serious injuries himself and spent 3 days in hospital. He was interviewed by the police and returned home on a Saturday morning. This was now too serious for me and the children to cope with. I arranged for my husband to be admitted to a residential rehabilitation centre and he agreed to go, however he could not wait for this and drunk himself senseless on the Sunday morning. This day will be forever etched in my mind and those of our children; ambulance arriving, my husband regaining consciousness in hospital and then absconding, a police search, and ending in his retention under the Mental Health Act Section 2. Very unpleasant. A week later my husband got to the rehab centre and stayed for two weeks. He found it a hard regime but I am eternally thankful to the centre as they made my husband realise just how unmanageable his life had become. We then found The Living Room, Cardiff which has been a lifeline for both of us and our children. It is a community based recovery centre based on peer support and the principles of the 12 Step Programme. I regularly attend the Family Group Meeting and the children also attend, it is a place where you feel safe, you are not judged, you learn to understand your situation and that of others and where you both give and receive support. My husband attended regular psychotherapy group meetings and one to one counselling, and also attended a retreat in November. He is now well on the road of recovery and determined that his and our lives have changed forever, there is no turning back. On 12th December 2014 my husband received a 27 month custodial sentence as a result of charges brought against him for the car crash earlier in the year. The Judge thought that as a professional person he should have known better. My husband knows that what he did was wrong and that he should be punished; he has shown great remorse for his actions and will always feel deep regret. My husband is now in a prison system which is in meltdown and chaos. Our children and I miss him dearly. Well, you may say "this is all about your husband, what about you?" I am learning a lot about myself through this painful and difficult situation. I have had to question what is best for 3 children and myself and not just my husband. It is emotionally exhausting. I believe in family. I don't believe my husband is a bad or dangerous man, quite the opposite; he is gentle, kind, and caring, but he does have an illness. He wants to get better and indeed now is getting better but this is a path on which we have had to find our own way, there has been no professional guidance or recognised medical input. As has recently been highlighted in the media, there is a lack of recognition and a fear of acknowledging mental health issues. Unlike a physical ailment it is an invisible condition and therefore difficult for many to understand. In summary, some early life difficulties and a very stressful job caring for others has meant that my husband did not have the necessary coping mechanisms instilled in him, and as a professional felt that he should not need to ask for help. When he did look for help it was not easy to find, his illness wasn't fully understood and treatment was compromised by his status. The Living Room, Cardiff has shown him what he needs to do. The solution is actually very simple, doesn't involve medication or masses of research, just humility, compassion, understanding and time. The Living Room, Cardiff recovery model works: some may not grasp its concept straight away, because it is both a painful and foreign experience. My husband is currently in prison 180 miles away from us. I am now a lone parent, reliant on state benefits; somehow I have a resilience which I believe was instilled in me through my upbringing which is line with many of the principles of the Living Room, Cardiff. I am more than willing to discuss my situation further; both my husband and myself want some good to come of the suffering that we, as individuals and a family, are going through. I can be contacted via Wynford Ellis Owen at The Living Room, Cardiff. Helen.