Motherhood, Madness, God and Me

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