Motherhood, Madness, God and Me

I read and shared a post about automatic thoughts today. Learned responses, internal monologue that type of thing. Unconsciously you learn about yourself from others. Over time this builds into automatic self assessments. I have been exploring how when people pass minor but careless comments they can mirror and provide evidence for what you have been told before. I learned very early that I had to be good. If I was good people would like me, I would be safe. My mum would be safe. I was taught I was a mistake. Unplanned and an inconvenience. I learned that I owed my family for keeping me. I learned that I had to cope. Nobody around me could and I had to. So when I cannot help people I feel I have failed. I feel I cannot pay people back for loving me. I am in their debt because I shouldn't be here. If I am not seen as quiet, well mannered, clever and kind I panic. In my head this means the world may fall apart. If I am not good then I will be punished. As a Christian I know

So after hours of tears, a counselling session and yet another marital shouting match I surrender. My counsellor said this is not the option. I shouldn't just step back and let them do what they want to me. I should use my voice now I've found it and trust myself, despite what others or my inner self say. I wrote my letter as suggested. My voice. Outlining my hurts and alternatives. My husband read it. I've been left feeling unable to send it. It might upset someone. Yup. Again. Somebody else might be upset. We can't have that. I owe her. I owe her my life. Do you know what? I hate her for that. I hate my stupid self for sharing with her. If I hadn't, if she hadn't, then I wouldn't be on this runaway train where my whole life has been ruined. I would be free. I would have died with a small amount of my dignity and reputation as a nice person intact. Now I don't know what to do. Be true and stand up for myself. Ignoring what might hurt others. Or st

Tears tonight. Silent tears, popping for a cry in the loo, standing making a cup of tea so I can let them fall. I'm sure you've seen them but neither of us has mentioned it. You've had a hard day supporting your friend to care for his mentally ill daughter and his grandson. You are tired. You don't want to listen to another crazy lady. We always end up rowing about it anyway. We are still living this half life and I hate it. I try to pretend. I capably care for the children. I'm even looking for jobs. I'm actually going to give up though. I cannot move forward. I'm hurting. I feel let down. I feel isolated. Embarrassed. Sad. I feel stuck. Alone. This meeting is pointless. I already know that it's over. I just need to find a way to make that clear. I don't care they don't see my point of view anymore. It is the way it is. Our home and family for 8 years has become a wedge on our marriage and a strain on my health. Ranks have closed and I'm

Today my husband had a carers' meeting. He didn't find it particularly useful and mainly discussed the care of our 8 year old with autism. He did consent to both our children being referred to young carers. Our 5 year old on the basis he misses out, adapts his behaviour and suffers due to his sister's condition. Our daughter as my carer. I'm furious. Perhaps that shows I don't understand the impact my illness has on them. I don't think that's true though. I more than most understand. She does not care for me. They do not know I am ill now I am home. I care for them. They have no extra responsibility and their opportunities are not reduced. If anything, by being off sick I am more available, I see them more, we play more, I'm at school more. It's shaken me. Again I stand accused of ruining my children's childhoods. I'm left feeling that yet again my best efforts haven't been enough and feeling like I really can't keep on being remin

Though my mind is still racing I am finding words difficult to come by. My motivation still lacking, tears flow less often now, I don't allow myself to feel anymore. I crave normality but it seems so far away. I feel terrified all the time. Terrified of never finding normality and health. Terrified of having to start again, of never repairing relationships and of going back to hospital. Terrified of the pills I take, of the words I might say, or the way people think of me. I try to see recovery. Imagine what life may be like, remember what life was like. Look for the hope and trust and joy I once had. When feeling and sharing feelings didn't bring loss. Loss of friends, vocation and liberty.

I've taken a break over Christmas. We have had quiet days, lazy mornings and pretty much pleased ourselves. Having a break from everything gave me a chance to forget. A chance to not cry about how lost and lonely I am. A time of no expectations and to just be. That can't last though and tomorrow real life begins again. A new year is a new milestone. Another time ticked off by which I thought I would be better. My care coordinator is keen for a meeting to reassure me about church. He says it is a big part of who I am. Unfortunately I feel it is a big part of who I was. I am not her anymore. She died. She's gone. I'm not sure that's a good thing.