Motherhood, Madness, God and Me

Today my head has been full of voices. Going round and round. I hear N. I hear M. I hear S, my mum. Round and round and round. I know I shouldn't argue or try and make sense of them but instead notice, acknowledge and move on. I've tried distraction. I practice mindfulness. I don't say it's a bad day, or what is spinning round my head because I get called obsessive. I ruminate on things I've done, on what others have said or might say, what has happened and may happen. Over and over and over. My imagination takes over, filling in any gaps. Ruminating causes my anxiety to soar. I avoid people and places. Ruminating regularly makes me doubt what I hear and understand. Am I correctly recalling? It also leaves me vulnerable to others, who are able to tell me I am imagining things even though z I am not.

I find being in limbo very difficult. It's kind of like homesickness. I'm in a stage of waiting. Waiting for friendships to heal. Waiting to get well. Waiting to see what work I can find. Waiting to find out where we will find a church home. Waiting makes me anxious. I imagine outcomes. I worry about what is happening that I may not be aware of during quiet times of waiting. Nothing seems settled at the moment. I don't know where I fit. I feel out of control. Waiting for others to make decisions which will effect the outcomes for me. Sometimes it's easier to be depressed. So depressed that nothing matters. The future, what people think of you don't matter. You aren't planning to be here so you have nothing to worry about apart from your final act. Anxiety is trickier. What happens does matter. What people think does matter. Your relationships do matter. My GP suggested today that my exhaustion and related lack of motivation may be caused not by persisting

Day 8 Today I am grateful for my husband who always looks after me. In addition to my chronic depression I now have a kidney infection. He continues to care for me and our children. He tries his best to reassure me. He has been through so much this year with little support recently.

Why is sleep so easy to come by come 7 am. A sleepless night, tossing and turning, over thinking, heart racing. By the time the children wake I'm just about ready to sleep again. I try not to nap. In the hope that by the night I will sleep. No joy though. Today I will try to keep busy. I plan to clean out the pets, hoover and wrap some presents. That's my goal. My challenge. My experiment. Someone once told me to think of challenge as an experiment. There's no failure in an experiment. Just results. Either expected or unexpected. So today my experiment is to do some housework and try not to nap. My hypothesis is that I will not be motivated to do that. I will turn on the TV and fall asleep on the sofa. Waking having wasted another day.

Today I appreciate my friend Helena. A colleague from my last job who is so thoughtful and loving to those around her.

Day 5. I am appreciative of the NHS and advancements in healthcare. I've been watching the call the midwife box set recently, as well as my son and me being treated by the NHS. A century ago, probably half a century ago, my son would have died 2 weeks ago. My husband and daughter would be facing Christmas without a son and brother whilst their wife and mother was languishing in the asylum. There is still shame in mental illness and it's not talked about, but things have come such a long way. Day 6. I am appreciative I have family who love me. People who don't have an obligation to love me but chose to, and the impact this will ultimately have on my recovery.

Today I appreciate my friend. I've not known her long but she shines God's love on me everytime we meet. And she brings food. That makes her great 😊

I appreciate lazy weekend days, laying in bed, watching films and just being. I can't remember a day when none of us got dressed, where we didn't have somewhere to rush off to. It probably won't happen again for a long while but today was a lovely lazy day.

It's been two months since I attended church, but much longer since I have felt close and cared for by God. My prayer life is limited. Still just about intact. My ability to open the bible diminished. I don't know how to get it back. To feel His love and feel him holding me. Often people say our experience of God is through those around us. When you are isolated you have little time to experience God that way, or the experience instead is loneliness and abandonment. Even the kids didn't go today. My son still regularly prays, for me, for others, for the small things in his life but I am aware I am a poor example to them. My anxiety is preventing me returning to church. I have considered sneaking into bible study and then leaving ASAP. No time to connect, chat, answer questions. No awkward reunions or silences with those who would rather not be in my company. For now I hope God forgives me that all we could manage this Sunday was Veggietales on the TV whilst I lay ru

Appreciative Advent 2 My children's school. We went to the school fayre today. So many parents and children stopped to ask how my son was recovering. He received a lovely card from his class and when he's been collecting his sister he's had cuddles from the head teacher and big smiles from his friends. I love they are loved and looked after during the day.

I am still exhausted. My motivation poor although I can manage what I need to do, meetings at school, school runs, Christmas fairs and school plays. I don't really want to see anyone. There's a few people, my cousin, my old friend, but pretty much everyone else I dread putting the face on. Not having to continuously convince myself not to hang or drown myself has improved things. I guess I'd kind have hoped that the depression would also lift as suddenly. It hasn't. I would gladly spend all day under the covers and I completely honest that's where most of Monday will be spent. For a break from my head. My thoughts. For a few minutes I forget how shamed I feel. How low my self esteem is. How anxious I am and how much I worry what others think of me. Where I don't look around and see the piled of post and toys and washing that lead me to feel lazy and useless. So much of Christmas has always been around the church. Craft evenings, children's services, s

December is here. I can't really believe it. I don't feel at all Christmassy. I've lost most of a year. Advent is about waiting. Waiting for the saviour to be born. We are waiting in this house. Waiting for good health and normality to resume. So much darkness and despair in our lives the past few months it can be difficult to look past it and see the good. Appreciative Advent 1 My son returning to health after a serious infection and surgery. That we see his cheeky smile once more and get to listen to his wonderful ideas for life again is a real blessing.

Having left hospital myself and getting the train straight to London to take over care of my son after surgery I remain more positive. Sleep still evades me at night and calls me during the day. Anxiety is still causing isolation. After 7 months of constant suicidal thought they have been gone several days now. I'm still hurting. I'm angry and hurt to still be 'exiled' by my friend. I don't know if that will ever go away completely. My husband and I are talking more, he's definitely being more sensitive. Perhaps we can both see an end to the tunnel of the past few months. Our boy is getting better every day thankfully. Our house remains a bit of a bomb site with it having been abandoned in a rush and both of us feeling pretty exhausted by the worry and trauma of the past couple of weeks.

It's been very stressful. My son has been seriously ill. My daughter farmed off to various relatives and me loosing all control of my life and ending up in hospital, not eating, crying and sleeping. Today is 15 days post med change. This evening I was relaxed. Laughing. Worried about my boy. Worried about my relationship with my husband but much more at peace. Calmer. Hopeful. Just a small breakthrough was all I needed. I know every day won't feel like this but hopefully having my kids and my home back will help me find that sense of purpose again. I think a very honest chat with my father in law helped too. An unlikely confidant who admits having no experience but was encouraging, loving and kind. Hope. I have hope.

The truth isn't helping. Unhelpful comments and no compassion. Looks of disgust and a punishment rather than helping me productively. Maybe I should say. Hooray you cured me with your amazing wisdom I'm happy as Larry even though you've locked me up and definitely my suicidal ideation has suddenly stopped. I'll try that one because apparently coping isn't enough. Delaying, writing, acknowledge thoughts, engage with help. None of them good enough. Would you even believe me?

My baby is very unwell. He was taken to hospital last night and blue lighted to Great Ormond street hospital at 2 this morning. His tummy hurts. He's covered in drips. He's being very brave with his Daddy. It should be me. I should be holding his hand. Cuddling him. I should be taking him down to theatre and kissing him goodnight. Instead I am here. I am not managing the lack of comfort from my loved ones, the feeling forgotten. Imagine how my boy must feel. I am the worst mother. The scariest, most painful experience of his life and I am nowhere to be seen. Because I am a selfish stupid woman who couldn't keep her shit together. They both deserve so much better. They promised I could be seen urgently this morning. It's not happened. I got very distressed last night. I don't think that will look good. I will not get better here. I've said it all along. With this added guilt. It finalises that I have failed them. Again. They deserve more. He said he wanted

Even in here. Even from patients. You have hope in your children. They should be your hope. Leaves me questioning exactly how a mother could find death so attractive. Do you not love your children? How could you leave them. Living for my children has helped me. I have tried, tried and tried. Then, again, I'm spirited away in the night. They don't know when they can see or speak to me again. Most people agree inconsistency and waiting are more painful than just knowing. My children do give me hope. My want to be with them, see them grow and my love for them is strong. Sometimes the fear of the damage I am causing with the uncertainty and the example as needy, lazy and isolated. The blame I will feel if they suffer similar problems. So maybe I am no mother at all. Maybe I am 'unfit' as a kind policeman suggested recently. Then there's God. We as christians have hope in his name. This was the discussion in the reflections group this morning. I know the gospel

https://iam1in4.com/2017/06/the-s-word/?utm_content=buffer45aa1&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_campaign=buffer I found this a really useful description of how to explain suicide. The analogy of a desert. No shelter from blistering heat or freezing nights. No food or water. Just unending desert wherever you look. Suddenly you see a mirage. Cool water, shade. Heaven. You see a place to rest. You see something other than the nothing you have been experiencing. You too would walk towards it. Please read the whole article above for how we could look at suicide and suicidal feelings differently.

The ward is loud. It is more unsettled. Outside my door there was a girl self harming. Next door one is screaming at the voices in her head. One of them says if she burns herself the voices will stop for an hour. Then there's C, a young girl who's been here at least a month. She has constant conversations with her friends Satan, God and Nigel Someone. She's showing more of an interest in real conversation so I guess she's slowly getting better. There's the lady who packs up her bag to go home every morning and shouts and swears when the Dr won't see her to discharge her. Then there's the criers. Or the quiet ones who sneak out for meals (or not at all in my case). Some staff are nice, but they lose patience easily. It's difficult to have a 1:1 because nothing they say can make it better. I've just come across an HCA (obviously agency) who put the bp cuff on upside down. I had to turn the machine on. I then reapplied my own bp cuff. She placed t

Who am I? Deep down. In the centre. In the rational part of my mind. Who am I really? Am I who I fear I am? Stubborn, selfish, a failure, needy, a burden, not good enough, unliked, a bad mother, a failure. What would a friend say about me? I can't really think. I know who I wish I could be. I wish I was good enough. I wish I had the confidence in myself to fight for what is true without being swayed into thinking I shouldn't. To be thought of as kind. To be confident I am precious to God. To be productive. To feel I have purpose. My trouble is finding evidence for these things. Whilst I desperately want to be a Christian, I'm struggling. I feel abandoned. I feel ostracised by my church and unable to engage with God because it is too painful a reminder. I am ashamed of this mindset. I'm not productive. Most days I don't leave my house. I've not worked in months and can never see myself going back to a job I loved. I'm not kind. I'm bitter an

I thought you understood how hard this was. I thought my sadness wouldn't be met with frustrated sighs and "I don't know what to say". Just saying you know it's hard. That it's not my fault. That it is ok to be heartbroken about this. I know its hard for you. I know that the initial help with dinners, shoulders to cry on, people washing up and hanging up the washing have long since dwindled. People can pull it out the bag for a short while, chronic illness is another matter. You too have been abandoned by those who to begin with wanted to help. Now it's you on your own. There were no offers to babysit me this time around. I can't explain it. My heart feels like it's breaking. It's a horrible pain that I just can't shift. Mixed with my general level of sadness and generally negative view of the world I realise I am a pain in the arse. Sometimes you just can't cover up how disappointed with me you are. How you have just run out of id

"Sometimes holding on can cause more pain than letting go" I saw this quote a long with a picture of a rope burned hand clinging to a rope, and an uninjured hand having let go of the rope. Holding on is causing me so much pain. Holding on to hope of repaired relationships and receiving no feedback. Holding on to regaining normality when it just pulls further and further away the longer it goes on. Holding on to life when, for me at least, it doesn't seem worth the pain. Holding on is certainly causing more pain than letting go. I'm semi convinced those holding on to me are also prolonging their pain. Perhaps the people who have already 'let me go' are actually an example. Free from my neediness, my sadness, they can live. They can return to a normality that having me in their life just doesn't afford. They, perhaps, have also seen this quote, that holding on can cause more pain than letting go. Who can blame them?

I am very isolated. When I first became ill people rallied. I was encouraged regularly, I was encouraged to throw myself into voluntary work and being around people. There were regular visits, texts and cuddles. People gave my husband time off caring. People seem to have come to a similar conclusion to me. Recovery is taking too long. Texts and visits tailed off. I lost my village. It's hard being the friend of someone miserable, especially when they stop leaving the house. I desperately want those relationships back. I'm not in a position to go chasing them. All I want to do is curl up in bed until the children come home from school, then return as soon as possible after they go to bed. I can't go on nights out, to church, to parties. I still feel a need, and I think it's quite healthy, for human contact and compassion. Thank you to the few who still try to interact. Apologies to those I've pushed too far away.

"I'm sure you are trying your best" Would you say that if I had cancer? Or a broken leg? Would you be expecting me to try my best? As if I'm wallowing? Yes I am trying my best. That isn't the answer to this though. "At least you have your friends to cheer you up" Yes. I still have a few friends unafraid to talk to me. I don't need cheering up. I am clinically depressed, not on my period! "That's ok" As if I have something to apologise for. I'm sick. I am sorry that I am not around as much but assuming I am sorry during every conversation doesn't help my feelings of inadequacy. "When you are well you will see this is for the best" Maybe. Not particularly helpful to have the We are right, you are wrong conversation just now though. Perhaps I will feel differently, perhaps you have just been jerks and I won't! "People are only agreeing with you because they want to keep you happy" This was followed by

Saw my usual psychiatrist today. You have depression. You will get better. There is no label to give you that is helpful. You will be happy. You will work again. Normality will resume. This will go just like it came. I feel a little more positive. I've delayed my plans from tonight until Friday when I meet my new counsellor. Despite these helpful words I still fail to see a future where I will ever be productive, return to my work both paid and voluntary. To reconnect with my friends and my faith. All I really see is this being forever. Either feeling nothing or desperate sadness. A life where I serve others. Where I can resume social activities I once enjoyed. When my friends are not afraid of the answer when they ask "How are you?". When this will just be a bad memory rather than a living hell. When I can pray and go to church and feel comfortable and loved and grow rather than shame and anxiety. It seems as impossible as me climbing mount Everest.

This is a really difficult post to write. I have lost my faith. I find no comfort in reading the bible. I no longer hear God speaking to me. I can't find the words to pray. I feel no comfort when others say they are praying for me. I'm sad. I'm heartbroken. I believe in God. That's not enough to make you a christian though. I have no relationship with God anymore. No desire to serve him. So from passionate bible teacher to a hopeless, faithless individual is complete. I lost my community a while ago. Fellowship with other christians has become impossible for me. I have clung onto hope that if I prayed and read the bible I would be healed. Everything would be ok. So there we go. The last shred of my identity gone. I'm no longer a professional. I'm no longer primary carer for my children. I'm no longer in Children's ministry. I'm no longer with Christ. I'm not sure where to go from here.

I've been a terrible person. I've been a terrible friend. All I've done is taken. I've cried. I've needed. You never gained from our relationship. It's no wonder you've gone now. I don't blame you. I'm sorry you put up with it for so long. I'm a terrible daughter. I grew tired of caring. I went away to forge my own world. It's ended up no different from ours. I'm a terrible wife. I played on your want to save me and make me happy. I allowed you to make life choices that shouldn't have been and now you carry the consequences. I'm a fraud. In my church and professional life. I wanted to be exceptional. I wanted to be the one who made a difference. In reality pretending became too hard and I let you down. I failed. I'm selfish and of no use. A burden to all who have the misfortune of knowing me. The pretence is gone. The fight to be who I pretended to be diminished. The buck stops here. You are right and I am wrong. I&#

Today I had an assessment for psychotherapy. I've waited 3 months and sessions will be another 4-6 months wait. It's fascinating and weird. I'm not sure I like it! A calm lady with an intense stare. The links she made were fascinating. Some more obscure than others. Her use of the phrase "pissed off" was fairly calming. Her comments about how understandable my depression and high expectations were was both saddening and reassuring. It's ok to be hurt. It's right to feel betrayed by my friend, unsupported by my manager. These are valid feelings. I don't need to hide them away and punish myself for having them. It's just such a long time to wait. It's also long term, which is disappointing in terms of recovering and getting back to normal. Another 18 months possibly. Following this appointment I had a very thorough assessment, confirming this was an episode of depression, triggered by stress but probably a result of genetics. He had confi

Once upon a time there was a girl. She was neither pretty nor ugly, clever or dim. Infact she was just as ordinary as you could get. She was quiet. She liked helping people. She was always there in the background when wolves came to the door and when giants came to town. She was never the hero though. She held things together so other people could fight the dragons and be the hero. Sometimes nobody even noticed the girl. She was just there. She never got invited to the parades or balls. She didn't mind that. She was just happy to help. One day, a fierce, dark storm hovered over the town. The darkest of the clouds settled over the girl's house. As the storm cleared however this one dark cloud lingered on. Following the girl wherever she went. Days and weeks past and the girl continued on in her daily activities. Nobody noticed how the black cloud created a dark shadow over her face. I guess they weren't looking carefully as she continued doing all the jobs that needed d

Last night I went out. I went out with the school mums. This time last week I was in a psychiatric hospital. Crying everytime anyone spoke to me and taking 2 naps a day. I didn't want to go. I didn't reply to excited planning messages. I made myself go. It was a fun night but throughout I was plagued with guilt. How could I be enjoying myself when a week ago I nearly died. How could I be dancing away when my husband's heart was heavy with worry. How could I be smiling when I had hurt those around me. Towards the end of the evening it changed. What would I do if I just left now? Nobody would notice until morning. There would be no police call. For that reason I stayed until the end. So I wasn't alone. The photos of a smiling me are on facebook. You can't see the battle going on behind the laughing and dancing. The guilt. The doubt. The 'why on earth did they invite a boring and horrible person like me' thoughts. They can't see the shattered mind t

I am nothing. Worthless. My internal voice repeats it over and over. You are nothing. How can you be worth anything if your children aren't enough to keep you alive. How can you be anything if you put your husband through this. How you have treated people you called your friends the way you have. They've turned away. Selfish. You are nothing. You aren't worth anyone's time. Just hurry up and do it. Save everybody time and worry. You are nothing.

Being depressed has made me feel bad, or perhaps being bad has made me depressed. I have been treated like a naughty school girl by some. I feel I have ruined everything. Upset people without that being my intention at all. I have tried to express my feelings but hurt others in the process. I feel like a bad person. A person who couldn't possibly be loved or wanted or ever be considered to be good. I can't forgive myself. Being picked up by kindly police who were adamant I wasn't a criminal they were just keeping ME safe kind of added to the feeling of being a waste of space. A bad person. A person who could get better if only they tried. A person who has choice over her behaviour. A person who obviously can't be trusted especially around children. Mad. Perhaps I am mad. Being on a psychiatric unit can make you feel that way. Locked doors, cutlery used under supervision, 15 minute checks on your wellbeing. Your clothes being searched, your shoes taken away. Being hand

Never has the bible explained my head so well. Lord you are the God who saves me; Day and night I cry out to you. My prayer comes before you. Turn your ear to my cry. I am overwhelmed with troubles. My life draws near to death. I am counted among those who go down to the pit. I am like one with no strength. I am set apart with the dead, Like the slain who lie in the grave, Who you remember no more, Who are cut off from your prayer. You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths. Your wrath lies heavily upon me. You have overwhelmed me with your waves. You have taken from me my closest friends and have made me repulsive to them. I am confined and cannot escape My eyes dim with grief. I call to you everyday I spread out my hands to you Do you show your wonders to the dead? Do their spirits rise up and praise you? Is your love declared in the grave, Your faithfulness in destruction? Are your wonders known in the place of darkness? Or your righteous deeds in the land of

I have spent the last few days despairing. Sobbing whenever somebody spoke to me, doubting that I will ever fully recover, worrying my relationships with my husband and friends will be forever changed for the worse or even over. However, despite the tears and depression, which is still as deep and dark as ever, for the first time in 7 months I don't see that this illness will kill me. For the last half a year I have had a longing for death. A sense that it was imminent and inevitable that I would take my own life. Today I am depressed, sad, afraid and full of anxiety. I don't want to die though. I accept I can recover. I am scared of how recovery will look. I know it's going to be hard and painful, as is rebuilding the relationships depression has stolen. Some of those relationships may never be rebuilt. That's heartbreakingly sad. I will survive though. Depression kills. It's not just sadness. It's not 'being a bit down'. The episode I have been suff

Things I need to work on. Forgiveness. I need to look on those who have hurt me, intentionally or not. Out of lack of understanding or malice. I need to forgive. I have received forgiveness from people who I have hurt due to not being able to forgive their unintentional harm. I opened my bible at random and the study section is healing relationships. The key is forgiveness. The suggestions are: A truthful view of the offense, neither downplaying or exaggerating. I think this maybe where I am struggling. My mind exaggerates at the moment. Problems seem much larger than they are. However, I am also vulnerable. I am vulnerable to being convinced things are just in my head. I manage to do both in the same thought. Acknowledge the hurt and emotions that come with that. I have been hurt. I have felt judged, abandoned, lost, despised and abnormal. I have felt alone in my suffering and unwanted. Forgive freely. I forgive those whose actions have hurt me, whether intentionally or not. Con

I'm wearing my Harry Potter shirt today. In the Deathly Hallows when Hermione uses 'obliviate' so her parents forget her is a moving scene. I wish I was Hermione Granger. I would obliviate my mind, and my loved ones. We would forget this pain, what's happened. Normality would resume. I could forget the broken relationships caused by my paranoia and people's lack of understanding. I could forget my muddled mind and have a focused way to go. I would be free from the embarrassment of speaking to the people I have hurt, and those who have seen me at my worst. I would obliviate the memories of my family and friends until this summer so I could once again create an illusion that I was capable, good at things even. If anyone is able to cast a patronus, that would also be much appreciated. I think the dementors are nearby. It may even be too late. I'm pretty sure one has already kissed me. If I was Hermione Granger I would have produced my little silvery otter and b

When you say you are suicidal, in my experience, most people don't believe you. Why would you tell someone if you really wanted to end your life? When you make an attempt, there's a bit of a flurry of activity where you end up watched. If you, like me, continue having suicidal thoughts, and your depression does not lift, people stop listening again. It's been 7 months since I first had a suicidal thought. It has been 3.5 months since my last attempt. Sometimes I lie. Sometimes I tell the truth. Whether people don't believe me, or just don't care anymore I don't know. All I know is that everyday I wish I had succeeded. That for me is a good day. The worse days are a constant fight to stay alive. Filled with visions of my death. Filled with planning. I'm getting better at winning but sometimes it feels close. I don't tell anyone because I really don't care if someone stops me now. I stay for my kids mostly. So I don't pass a legacy of pain on

Today is a bed day. It's one of those days when I know I am safe if I sleep. It's a day when the energy to unload the washing I started 2 days ago evades me despite knowing there are no clean jumpers for school tomorrow. It's a day when the pyjamas are spread round the lounge, last night's washing up remains littered around the kitchen. The curtains are closed. It's a day when I hide under the covers wishing I had never made a stupid contract not to harm myself with my therapist. It's a day where bed really is the only thing I can manage. Where I would love a friend to come and hold my hand but I can't reach out to anyone to do so. Today is a day when I realise why my mother spent so much of my childhood in bed and fear my children will grow up with the same feeling of abandonment that I did. Where I feel both pain, shame and loss all at once. Today is a day my husband will carefully check I am still breathing when he comes in. Just in case. Today is

I am very lucky to have an amazing GP. He is holistic. He cares for our whole family. I feel awful for taking up so much of his time, and obviously his thoughts too. Here is what I would like him to know. Dear Dr, When I was first told to make an appointment after seeing a locum doctor I didn't know how lucky I was to be booked in with you. Your gentle, calming manner. The mild obscenities to sympathise with how awful depression is. The way you never accepted OK as an answer and never hurried me out of your surgery. Your ability to look further than a forced smile, which is more than most people have been able to do. I read your comment on my notes "deceptively smiley". The obvious concern in your face made me feel awful but that perhaps I was important to someone. The way you have cared for my husband, chased appointments for my daughter, fought our corner with social services are things I am particularly grateful for. I am sorry that you lost some sleep over me. I

If I had to sum up anxiety in one scenario an unanswered call/text/email is probably the easiest situation to use. I phone you. You don't answer. You don't call back. Depending on who you are I could convince myself you are dead on the motorway husband) or that I've upset you (friend). I create all sorts of scenarios in my mind for reasons you haven't text. I start to panic. My heart races, I can't concentrate. I become obsessed with checking for replied. I plan your funeral because in my mind I believe you have died. Sometimes I cry because I believe I have upset a friend. In those minutes, hours and days I create all sorts of things which sometimes I can rationalise, sometimes not. Sometimes your delay in replying provides me with evidence towards a negative core belief. For example, you don't reply. I believe I've upset you. This provides evidence that I am, as I feared, a horrible person and I've just proved it. Similarly sometimes I don't re

Today was a good day. Swimming lessons at 9AM after a poor night's sleep shouldn't make for a good day but it did. My boy finally did something that looked like swimming rather than drowning! He swam under water beautifully for about 5m. He looked so impressed how well it had worked out. Weekends with school aged children often seem to be busy. Next was the under 8s football team. My daughter is under investigation for ASD, she's terrified when the ball comes near her but enjoys playing. They let her play. Even though tactically they should sub her they don't because they believe she deserves a chance. They even notice things I haven't, like she has poor planning and becomes confused when the team switches ends of the pitch. They arranged for the team to swap only at half way rather than every quarter. To have a situation where her difficulties are acknowledged but she is pushed to reach her potential is so refreshing for me. The afternoon ended up as a girlie tr

I spend a lot of time talking about Madness, God and Me but less time on motherhood. As a little girl all I wanted to be was a mummy. I imagined having loads of children, I had names planned in my head and everything. Even before we were married I imagined life with a gorgeous toddler jumping in puddles. Many children for us is sadly not to be. My mental health being the main reason. We have 2 lovely children and I am grateful for that. They are funny. My son is polite and kind. He is an old head and enjoys conversations. He wants to be a teacher or an engineer. My daughter is a bundle of passion, feeling things deeply. She is an incredible artist. They are both resilient, coping well with me being in hospital. I worry I am not enough. I worry for their future mental health. Motherhood is the biggest area I doubt myself in. Tonight was a tough night. My son was messing around at bedtime. I was told I was too cross so I came away and cried. I am so far away from the mother I dreame

I feel I have lost you. We are married. We live together. There is no physical contact. You never say I love you. I get "you too" in reply to my "I love you". We sleep separately. I can't imagine how it must feel to have watched me fall. Had me run from you. I know it must be hard putting up with my obsessions, tears and confusion. I wonder where we go from here. How to make this better. Right now it seems irreparable. We don't talk. When we do it ends in a row. I know it's hard. Don't forget I've cared for you when you've been down and feeling hopeless too. I've felt the worry and the frustration. I'm sorry for the hurt I cause you. Truly I am. I just want you back. I just want things to be normal again. I don't want to carry on in this strange half life. Where I am better enough for professionals to abandon us but still mopping up the mess I've made from being unwell. The failing relationships, not just ours, the occu

"You could you know. You want to" says Suicide "Yes I know but I can't leave the children. I can't bear to imagine their life without a mum" says me. "Can you imagine life with YOU as a mum?" laughs suicide "Surely a mum is better than none?" I wonder. "Are you sure?" Suicide questions. "Sure that's how you feel? You've been there!" "This I never going to end" cries anxiety. "Nope" agrees suicide. "nobody will ever trust you, you'll always be the mad one!"warns suicide. "You have over shared. People don't like us now." Cries anxiety "they laugh at us" Anxiety continues "I wonder if we will ever have our old life back? What if we don't. What if this closed off life continues. What if the children grow up to hate you. What if husband leaves you? What if he dies?" "I can fix this" smiles suicide. "no more pain. You have the

Written July 3/4th On my first night I came here, the day after my husband thwarted my attempt to end my life, I never doubted God's existence. I knew God was real, I also knew how very much the devil wanted me. In those hours I rabbited on about the devil having me. I begged for my children to be saved. I thought my vicar could see I had the devil in me and attributed his behaviour ad protecting the church from me. It is very hard to see God in a locked corridor of howling women, shouting nurses and despair seeping through every locked and windowed door. I woke up and realised I didn't need to take my life. I had already succeeded. This was hell. An absence of anything good and lovely, filled with tormented lost souls with no hope. When my dearest friend visited she reminded me this. We are saved by grace and grace alone. No sin is too big and mental illness should not be considered a sin. My obsessing over not being enough, not praying, serving, forgiving, loving enou

Originally written July 2017 Where is God in Mental Illness: The suicidal Christian on the Psych ward. Jesus came to seek and save the lost. He is close to the broken-hearted and the marginalised in society. Jesus called to him the widows, prostitutes, tax collectors, lepers and 'unclean' women. He came for those with no voice. There are many people here with a very loud voice; in the midst of a psychotic episode or just downright frustration. It may be loud but it is a voice often quietened, snuffed out. If Jesus wanted to look for some oppressed lost souls, the psych ward would be the first place to look.

Helpful Bible Verses (originally written July 2017) 2 Kings 20:5 I have heard your prayer and seen your tears. I will heal you. Romans 10:9 You are never too lost to be saved. Isaiah 43:2 When you go through deep waters I will be there for you. Exodus 14:13-14 The Lord will fight for you. You need only be still. Psalm 30:5 Weeping may endure the night but joy comes in the morning. 1Corinthians 10:13 God has a purpose for your pain. A reason for your struggle and a gift for your faithfulness. Romans 5:8 I loved you at your darkest. 2 Samuel 22 He reached down from heaven and rescued me. He drew me out of deep waters. Psalm 34:18 God is near to those who are broken at heart. Those who are crushed in spirit he saves. 1 Peter 5:10 After you have suffered a little while Christ himself will restore you, make you strong, firm and steadfast. These calm my spirit. Remind me I am not the only one to suffer. Other times coming into God's presence through His word left me feeling mo

I wrote this back before my hospital admission. I think I wrote it whilst at the GPs when he was trying to get me admitted. The day he told my husband to look after me because I was precious. Here it is... Sometimes, you can really want someone just to say "I know you aren't ok. I love you anyway". Sometimes you have been waiting for contact all day and have so much you want to say but you just can't find the words, so you have nothing to say. Sometimes everything that has been said, shared, leaves a big gaping hole. You can't find more words to bridge it. Sometimes you just need nurturing, loving. To be vulnerable and that to be ok. No sharing of experience, no problem solving just a warm hug whilst you cry. No expectations. "I know this hurts. I understand" would mean so much right now. Sometimes all you want to say is "you have hurt me" and be able to move on and not worry about the consequences. To be honest and not have it thrown ba

I am aware I am fat. I have gone from an 8-10 to a 16. I have no idea how much I weigh but it's a long way off the 9st I weighed 6 months ago. A lot of the weight is on my boobs and tummy, so yes sometimes it looks like a bump. I'd like to think less so now I've finally given up trying to squeeze into my old clothes and instead swallowed my pride and hidden the 8,10s and 12 clothes at the back of the wardrobe. So no I am not pregnant. I would dearly love a third. A fact most people who know me are aware of. However my husband is done, I've had hyperemesis once (before Kate made it cool) and postnatal depression twice. Given recent events my husband is too terrified to impregnate me despite my daughter dropping "Jack and Georgia's mums have loads of babies why can't we just have one?" into at least one conversation a week and my son discussing "when God decides we can have another baby..." at regular intervals. My womb is suitably full of c

Today I received a report, which despite quoting sections of three medical reports supporting my daughter having sensory processing difficulties (fact) and behaviours which may be indicative of autism, stated her behaviour was a result of "what she has witnessed in the home". The author also stated she has no evidence of this. I straight away messaged my go to friend for "slightly odd kid" discussions, a friend I met 7 years ago when our daughters were babies. This lady has a knack for fighting and honestly I don't know what I'd do without her when times are tough with my daughter. There is a lot of research and anecdotal evidence of girls masking their autism at school. Excellent chameleons they are able to copy their peers and behave the same. It is often not officially diagnosed until adolescence by which time they usually have other mental health difficulties due to lack of support. Pretending is tiring so once they get home the 'break out'.

Did you know heartache can be a physical pain? You are overwhelmed with sadness and in your chest you feel your heart breaking. Now I have a Batchelor of Science, I know my heart is not really being torn in two. It feels like it. The pain in my chest when I become overwhelmed. Heart ache is real. It physically hurts. As tears roll silently down my face I want to scream out in pain. Death would be a welcome relief both from the physical pain and the emotional. I cry out to God. I feel so distant from others. My friends, my family. I desperately want to feel their love but interactions seem to remind me that I am being punished. That nobody understands. I desperately want to share these feelings. Nobody understands though. That makes the heartache worse. I know I am not alone. God hears my cry. Today we ended Psalm 119. When all your emotional connection feels distant you can still rely on the unchanging word of God. So I repeat truth from the bible. I remind myself I am covered i

Thank God it was sunny when I left the house. It meant my red puffy eyes were hidden from view. Today is a bad day. There were triggers, nothing major but my afternoon was spent crying. Crying for the old me. Crying for the way things were. Crying for the version of me who was capable and reliable. That night I did die. I descended to a different place. A place of medication which makes you fat and tired. A place where people fear you. A place where you are always going to be remembered as the one who tried to kill herself. A place where confidential conversations are shared "in love". I tried to hold it together until I was alone. Desperately trying to keep up the appearance of recovery. It didn't work like that though. I almost made it but as my friend left I couldn't help out. Our friendship kind of illustrates to me how much I have lost. I'm still angry. I know none of this is her fault. It's all just such a mess. I wish I could share openly once aga

https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/hearing-god-in-the-midst-of-suicidal-thoughts I found this article whilst trying to convince myself God would understand if I killed myself, or that God didn't want me, or anything that might make it easier for me to escape the darkness. I really found it helpful to look at it from a sin point of view. Not in the way Job's friends did, blaming Job for his suffering. Instead that the world really is a dark, depressing place. To feel the weight of this fallen world is accepting that Jesus really is the only answer. It's my sin, but also that sin has corrupted the whole world. I still feel terrible that despite knowing and desperately wanting to see my true worth in God, knowing he has plans for me, knowing that suffering is only temporary and doesn't compare to the joy that is coming, I still felt I had no escape. No other option. Am I that faithless? Even though, as I lay dying, I was calling out to Him to take me, to save m

I want to write some thank you notes to people who have cared and loved me. Thanks to GP. You have been wonderful I supporting both me and my husband. Your faith that you could make me better, your compassion and gentle understanding manner has been a true blessing. Thank you B. Your regular texts and meals on wheels (thanks other ladies for your home cooking). Thanks for understanding bad days. Thanks for still wanting to meet up. Thanks I for just being normal. We went camping after I came home from hospital and it was like nothing had happened. I cooed over your baby and felt more myself because of you. G, thank you for sending me a gift to remind me I am safe in God's hands. J, thank you for being a foul mouthed crazy loon who I'm blessed to be related to. D, thank you for your professionalism, for coming to pray with me during your working day. For sending verses to meditate on. For answering my questions and reassuring me. You being on all probably stopped me being

Today was the best day. Today I returned to the capable main carer of two hot, hyper, tired kids. It was amazing. From 10-4 we ran around the farmyard looking for fairies, we painted pottery, we dealt with the inevitable tantrums, we picnicked,ice creamed and saw the circus show.I possibly spoilt them more than usual (the balloon animal and glitter tattoos would probably have been vetoed had I not spent a lot of the summer in hospital or being supervised). I'm me, I've reclaimed a bit of me. My two sweaty, dirty kids have had their mum back. They responded well to me being in charge again. Adequate boundary pushing, not too much though, and of course there were disagreements and stamping feet. I dealt with it, calmly, responsively and we all survived. Praise God for today, for my kids, for joy and for not letting me give up so I can still be here and be a mum!

When I was admitted nobody showed me around. Nobody told me you have to line up. So I didn't eat for the first couple of days. I was too scared to open my door. The ward was very unsettled. The nurses explained to my husband the ward was full of unwell patients and due to close for refurbishment. They were short staffed. There was no recovery group, art therapy or 1:1s. It was where patients cried and shouted, ran around naked stating they had been raped by staff. It was where nurses shouted "breakfast" and "medication" and shouted at you if you didn't come right away. It was a locked ward. The bathroom light was broken and a staff member told me I should shower in the dark or go earlier. After a few days I became less scared. I was moved to a shared room with a very quiet lady and our own bath. I started to draw and paint in the lounge, mostly bible inspired creations. I'd cry at visitors who came in looking worried and left with tears in their eyes as

I keep on starting blogs, then not having time to post, or not wanting to share teal and raw things, or getting upset about having no followers. I have however been keeping a diary since early July. I have lots of back dated rawness to add to the internet in the hope of reaching some kind I catharsis or helping somebody not feel totally alone. Today I need to write. I am hurting. I feel lost. I don't know who to trust. Most people who know me know that a couple of months ago I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Most people have probably gathered I've been suffering a while. I am afraid on reflection, that I may have walked so far down an unimaginable path of despair that most people haven't wanted to follow. I have been shown love. The church member who is a doctor in the psych unit who came to pray with me, sent me bible verses and gave a reassuring hand squeeze when I walked into church the first time since discharge. The ladies from my bible study who have turned