Motherhood, Madness, God and Me

How do you get better? How do you recover? Do you suddenly wake with hope? Do you feel differently? Do you just notice after it has happened? What is recovery? Is recovery real?  How long does recovery take? Is it even possible? How will I know what recovery looks like? Why does it take so long? So long I gave up hope. What do I need to do now? To end this nightmare forever. I don't know how much longer I can bear this. How can I continue? To face another day. It feels like this will never end. They say it happens slowly. That recovery is possible for me. Do they really know that? Can it really be true? Is recovery possible? Is there a flicker of hope? Or is it just a fairy tale that's not truth? Each day that passes by, Hope slips further away. I feel this is life forever. The tunnel light seems dimmer. No hope, no light, just darkness forever more. I cannot see past this. The pain overwhelms me. I'm deep in a pit of despair. Recovery is a ...

I won't name. I wish I could but I shouldn't. I visited my GP today. I was expecting the usual sympathetic and kind but fairly unproductive 10 minute appointment. My appointments always start the same. Dr: So, how are you? Me: Fine Dr: You are still stuck.       You poor, poor thing.       This is so bloody awful and unfair.                Should we try a week of this?       You are a worry.       I am going to get you help today. His manner is sweet and often desperate. He's a prisoner of bureaucracy. Of funding cuts. I never feel seeing him is a waste of my time, even if nothing new comes out of it. I do worry it is a waste of his and feel guilty every time he books a repeat appointment. He has chased second opinions, questioned diagnoses, supported my husband, stayed late. He's made me tea several times. ...

This wasn't who I wanted to be. My only dream was to be a mother. When I finally was I wanted to be a better mother than I had. When my daughter was born I was that mum. Despite having postnatal depression, which looking back now was fairly minor, I played, I read books, breastfed. I was responsive. Even when she wouldn't settle I never felt angry. When she was a toddler I never shouted. I cried and I was anxious and tired but even when our son was born I was still patient and not at all shouty. Looking back I can pinpoint a change. It was a few months after going back to work from my 2nd maternity leave. I left the job I had been in for 5 years. We were a small and supportive team which had comprised of the same six people for 4 years. 5 women in their 40s and 22 year old me. Just weeks after returning I was persuaded (threatened my job was being phased out) to begin further study. It would result in the job I had wanted since my first year of nursing. It wasn't ideal t...

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 ...

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 ...

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...

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...

"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...

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...