Last week, I sat down with someone and was airing some of my frustrations, they looked at me and basically said "Naomi, your Mum died last week". Mum died and my body is grieving. It's why some days feel like sludge. It's why I'm so tired all the time no matter how much I sleep. It's frustrating and annoying but it's how my life is.
I couldn't imagine another week with the IUD in me, let alone three months. I'm having it removed, finally, in a few days' time, but I'm faced with yet another dilemma. Do I swear off IUDs for the rest of my pitiful existence? Or do I switch to the IUD I'd dreamed of, a copper coil, as the answer to my prayers?
In a society that is suspicious of depression as a medical condition, psychoactive substances, and antidepressants in particular, it is not surprising that the legitimacy of antidepressants is widely questioned. Being on antidepressants is frequently considered some kind of moral failing, and a barely legitimate practice in many quarters.
So after making the decision to have a preventative double mastectomy due to carrying the BRCA1 mutation the time had come, at the weekend I was at the races with my friends, a few days later I was to have my breasts removed. I did not want to die of breast cancer considering my risk was about 85%. I have watched cancer destroy my family and I needed to put a stop to it.