Motherhood, Madness, God and Me

I know I will come in in an hour and say I am fine. You will either say that I'm not, write a prescription and send me away assuring me that I will be OK. One day. Or you may believe me if I'm convincing. Or maybe today you will finally give up and accept defeat. We both know that it's a dance we do every week, fortnight or month. I remain immensely grateful that you are kind and that you do fight for me. I can't find the words though. Not really. Sometimes if you ask the right questions you might get an insight. I don't know how to make the words come out. That I am totally out of control and can't stop myself and I'm terrified and terribly ashamed. I don't know how to say that it has been incredibly difficult this morning not to neck all my pills and take myself off somewhere to sleep. That Susanna and I have talked how I am able to step away and make a choice, that I did yesterday and have, so far, done this morning. This is why I am so very ash...

People will speak of surprise. She seemed so well. She looked so happy. She had so much to live for. Why didn't she ask for help? How could she leave her children? Is it really a surprise? Loosing my mind. Loosing my job. My parenting investigated. My body pumped full of poison. The loss of my community. My friends. Alienated, blocked, ignored by those I thought loved me. I did not want to leave my children. To be honest they bought me an extra year. They deserve better. They will get it without me in the way. I did ask for help. Several times. Help isn't there. Removing freedom doesn't save people. It just makes it harder to ask for help. Nobody has been able to lift me from this pit. Asking for help involves switchboards, receptionists, knowing that nothing will improve the physical pain, knowing that when you get through they will wonder why you bothered phoning if you really want to die. For me this is not a surprise. This is not an impulse. This is being too t...

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. ...