This is not me...

I write for a living - in fact, it could be said that I live to write, so why can't I find the words to express how I feel?
It is yet another change in me that means I can't recognise the person I am becoming. I wish I could explain to those I am meeting for the first time how different this me is to the real one.
I do not hide in the shower hoping everyone will go out before I have to emerge. I am downstairs, in the thick of the action, organising a fun family outing.
I do not panic over the simple task of completing a supermarket shop with one baby in tow. I have managed that solo with two children and dealt with many more stressful situations in my working life.
I am not angry, bitter, overwhelmed by rage. In fact, I can't be bothered to be angry. I'm so rubbish at it I often forget what made me cross.
I do not spend time every day in tears. I am a happy, calm and relaxed person.
I do not depend on other people to help me deal with my own children. I am confident and independent and have arranged many solo outings.
I do not snap at my daughter just for being her. I love her funny ways and her constant chat.
I do not want to hide away because I don't know what to say to people. I am sociable and fun and love nothing more than giggly girlie nights out - not deep emotional sessions.
Lately I have been all of these things. And more. This is not me. This is what PND has done to me. And I hate it.

Eight weeks plus...

So two weeks ago there was light in the darkness and a fighting spirit.
But two weeks is a long time - it's a quarter of baby d's life.
And I'm sorry to say those spirits are weakening.
Part of the reason this post is late is that I did not want to have to write it. I didn't want to admit to myself the truth I have known for a while.
I have brushed aside the hours I have spent quietly sobbing to myself while Miss T is at school, or in bed, as just a bad day or the results of sleep deprivation.
I have crushed the feelings of failure, ignored the self-loathing, and stepped back from the rising tide of anxiety.
But today I am finally admitting to myself - and indirectly, in this post, to others - that it's time to ask for help.
What form that help will take I'm not entirely sure. I know I don't want to start popping pills again, but I also know that decision may not be a rational one.
But perhaps rearranging my next therapy appointment for sooner than the beginning of March would be a good start, or visiting the GP for an honest conversation, or even braving the health visitor again.
I'm sure I don't have to spell out to you, lovely readers, the disappointment I feel as I write those words. In myself, mostly.
I feel I have let myself down in succumbing once more after all the work I put in to fight this. I feel I have let baby D down in failing to give him a PND-free start to life.
I feel I have let Mark down in not being able to give him the sane wife who copes calmly with family life that he deserves.
And most of all I feel I have let Miss T down in replacing the in-control, fun mummy with an emotional wreck who can't give her the stability she so desperately needs.
I wrote some time ago that I felt Baby D was my chance to do this "right". And it's hard for me to accept that history is repeating itself.
Of course, this time it is different in some ways. Part of the reason it is taken so long to admit I am losing the fight is that it feels so different to last time. I can bear to spend time with Baby D. In fact, I enjoy doing so. I do get out of bed each day - but mostly because I have no other choice. I do still have some days where the sun shines.
But I know in my heart it's not right. I know it's not normal to dread going home if it means I will be alone with both children. I know it's not a good sign that very few days pass without tears. I recognise that the thoughts creeping into my head that stop me from sleeping need to be tackled. For the sake of my family, if not myself.
I know all these things can be dealt with. I've travelled this road before.
But I hope this time the journey will be quicker and perhaps less bumpy.

Four weeks...

Tomrrow is the four week milestone, but the laptop is powered up today so it seemed as good a time as any.
I'm not sure what kind of post this will be, so apologies in advance. I've started writing it in my head several times over the last few days and it changes depending on what sort of day it's been. I've decided just to let my fingers do their thing and see what comes out.
So there have been more bad days. Some good ones too but they can have bad moments as well. On a really bad day it feels like I'm losing my mind; like it's disappearing piece by piece over the edge into the abyss. And if I peer over after it what I see is so terrifying I can't even think about trying to retrieve it.
On a normal bad day, it feels like everything is just too much effort. Even getting off the sofa.
But on a good day, when one child is asleep and I can spend quality time with the other one, I'm not sure what the drama is about.
Mark is back at work next week - tomorrow in fact - so that will present a whole new challenge. I have a lot lined up to keep us busy with lovely friends playing their part with play dates and evenings in.
I do still feel disappointed in others who have been less helpful. Or less present. Or who seem to be able to make the effort for others but not me. Perhaps it's the old mental illness stigma, perhaps it's that it's just more fun to visit someone more cheerful and less mad. Or perhaps I'm just paranoid.
It has been suggested that I ask for help from them, and others, and see what happens. I'm tempted to do so as a social experiment if nothing else - watch this space.
Baby d is stirring so my time here is up for now. But I'll leave with an important (to me at least!) reminder. I know most of you lovely readers are here because you care or because you are interested in the PND experience. But I also know (thanks to Google analytics!) that there are some here for other reasons.
I don't care if this is emailed around the office as a good laugh ("see what that mad cow is up to now"). I started this blog all those years ago with the declaration that I was not ashamed. And it's still true. I may be on the road to happy pill heaven again but I'm not ashamed of it. So I will continue to be honest here for the sake of those who need help staying strong - and for myself.

Parents' evening woes

What a long time it's been again! I'm taking that as a good sign, that I didn't feel the need to let any traumas out here, rather than a bad sign that life is still so manically busy I don't get time to update.
And there is plenty to update, believe me, but that's for another post...
In the meantime, it's time for another bout of free therapy - just till my next paid-for session, of course...
So this afternoon was parents' 'evening' at Miss T's pre-school. It was our third, or fourth, and all the others have been absolutely fine - she's quiet, she's settled, she's confident. There was no reason to suspect anything different this time.
Even when I was left waiting a long time to speak to her "key worker" I wasn't concerned as that has happened before.
But after about half an hour the pre-school manager, no less, came and sat down and said as her key worker was still busy she would start things off with a "word about her behaviour".
I think those are words every parent dreads. I've never been pulled in for a "word" in the 10 months Miss T's been at school - apart from once when another child used her as a cushion. She doesn't exactly have a host of behavioural issues, apart from usual three-year-old stubbornness.
Until now. Apparently Miss T has been spotted doing "sneaky pushing". Not just pushing in a row over who gets what toy, but pushing AFTER an incident like that. The example the manager gave started as a tug of war over a hat. When she intervened and reminded Miss T the hat belonged to the other child she let it go, but was spotted a few minutes later going up behind the other child and shoving her. Not hard, admittedly, but still a shove.
And according to the staff, this happened three days in a row, on top of about three weeks of other, similar incidents.
Of course, they tried to reassure me - especially after I ended up sobbing into a tissue! - and said she was nowhere near the worst they'd seen, and most children go through similar phases, and there had been no incidents during the two weeks since half term, but all I heard was 'My daughter's a bully'.
It wasn't the pushing so much that bothered me as the spitefulness of shoving after the initial incident. The word they used was sneaky, and I wasn't even reassured when they said how surprised they were to see her behaving that way.
Their advice is to leave it for now, praise her for good sharing and playing nicely and "kind hands" but I'm finding that rather hard.
Of course she's not perfect and there have been pushing incidents before, but I've always dealt with them on the spot and they have been more 'understandable' eg during a row over a toy etc.
But I never expected to hear she seemed to have this rage inside her or a desire to hurt.
And of course I can't help wondering if there's a link to everything else, ie me and my madness.
Rationally, I'm sure there's not, this is just a phase - and one that by the preschool's own admission seems to have stopped - and not a red flag for future mental health issues. But that doesn't stop the guilt.
Maybe she picked up on some of my rage from when she was younger. If you don't remember - and I wish I didn't - try this for an example: http://ihadpnd.blogspot.com/2009/04/spoke-too-soon.html
Maybe it was because we didn't bond for months and months and there were times when I ignored her crying.
Maybe it's because I work too much.
Maybe she's picked up on other changes at home and they are making her unhappy.
I don't know. I don't know if I will ever know. And that's very hard.
It's also hard to know my beautiful little girl, who can be so gentle and so loving, also has this nasty side that's very hard to like. Of course she will struggle with her emotions in life and won't always be perfect, but I wanted to hang on to my sweet little girl for just a little bit longer.

clear as mud!

There are so many posts in my head right now and I'm not sure which one of them is going to come out.
I was going to attempt to be insightful and mindful about the fact that everyone around me seems to be landing dream jobs and I'm still unemployed...but that may be changing...so I don't want to jinx it.
I was going to write about my continuing struggles to accept good news for my friends without feeling massively jealous and angry - bitter, in fact.
Or about my Friday, which started so badly and ended not so badly.
Or the weekend, which started not so badly and ended badly.
But at the moment my overwhelming thoughts are angry ones.
I'm angry at so many things, and a few people as well, myself included after one of those moments when you can see yourself acting in a way you despise but feel powerless to stop it.
I'm most angry at the fact that just as I thought things in one area of my life seemed to be improving, those in another area went spiralling down the pan.
Is this one of those life lessons? You can have some good things but not too many? Or is it just one of those life of Liz lessons - don't think things are good because something will soon prove you wrong.
I do still believe everything happens for a reason - I had PND because I am able to write about it and maybe help others. Maybe I have to go through this period of unemployment to allow me to develop my skills and bond with Miss T. Sometimes I wish the reason were clearer though.
I'm sure you all wish this post were clearer but it can't be at the moment.
Let's all hope next week brings some clarity to all areas.

humph

I think humph is a much under-used word - it perfectly describes how I'm feeling today.
There have been ups and downs and I can't work out which was prevalent, so I'm not sure if I'm angry, excited, jealous, ashamed....
Explain? Of course....
This morning I was pondering the phenomenon of confidence and how flimsy it can be. Personally, mine has never been great but professionally I got by with a cheery facade and managed to convince myself sometimes - it's amazing what simply adopting my "work persona" can do.
But obviously, with no work, the work persona has been fading away. And today I realised I needed it back as I had some calls to make and questions to ask. It was enough to send me into a panic - what was I thinking? I would never be able to do this! I should never have agreed to it, I should scrap the whole thing - you get the picture.
Luckily the shards of the old work me that remained were able to take myself in hand and of course I enjoyed my brief taste of how things were. So I was excited about the days ahead and the work I have to do (unpaid, frustratingly, but there's more to life than money - isn't there?!).
Another down followed when I found out that my friend who was interviewed as the other half of a job share for one of the jobs I had an interview for has accepted another post. Are you still with me?! Of course it's fantastic news for her, and in a way it serves the other organisation right for being so tardy with their recruitment process, but it feels like one strike for me - one of the three interviews I am awaiting outcomes for will now almost definitely be a no. Two left...
And of course I then felt angry with myself for being so selfish. And negative. There's still every chance that one of the other two will snap me up.
I can't stress enough how much I hope they do - Tash and I went to play gym again this morning, and I'm proud we went alone and she had a great time but I just hate the whole 'mummy world' that exists out there. There are people who turn up dressed for a night out, with full make-up, designer clothes and ridiculously high heels and spend the whole time chatting with their friends, equally impressively dressed, and drinking coffee.
I am not a big make-up fan at the best of times and really would rather spend that extra time in the mornings in bed instead of applying it if I have nothing more exciting to do than play gym. And when I think about it rationally, I know I would hate to be one of those people who seem so shallow, and I am pleased that Tash has my full attention instead of having to cry for five minutes after falling off something in the hope I will interrupt my conversation to help her.
But the whole experience does make me feel hopelessly inadequate and out of place and just humphy.
I know there is a school of thought that says you should make an effort every day, for your loved ones if no one else, but at the moment it feels like there is not much to make an effort for.
That isn't meant to sound as bad as it does, but I just feel there should be more to my life than play dates and toddler activities. Hopefully one of the other two interviewing panels will agree soon...

Spoke too soon!

You would think I would have learnt by now. If I'm feeling positive I should keep it to myself, because it's clearly a jinx. Although naturally all the doom and gloom should be shared via this blog - otherwise what would you all do for entertainment? ; )
So yesterday was another good day - so good in fact that I remarked upon the fact to Miss T during bathtime and she agreed it had been fun.
Today has not been. There's not been much difference - we were out this morning, then we fed ducks, but then it all went wrong.
When I think about it honestly, I know it's nothing to do with her - yes, she wouldn't go to sleep when I expected her to, and she pulled the dog's hair, and washed her hands in their water, and had various strops - but that wasn't the cause.
So what was? Partly the fact that I'm stuck at home with no respite - even the work I'm doing at the moment, great though it is, is done from home.
Partly the fact that I was reminded of my atrocious lack of self-esteem - a simple request for a head shot was enough to send me into a spiral of panic and wondering if I could get away with submitting a pic taken four years ago!
Partly frustration that I didn't achieve as much as I wanted in the last two days because of her lack of sleep and trying to help.
And partly - and I know this is bad - a searing jealousy that Mark has been out at work all day and gets to go out tonight as well. It's nothing I haven't done a hundred times, back in the days when I had a job to go to (although mostly my evening excursions were for work as well) but on a day like this the hours are like an endless night and a two hour break just doesn't seem enough.
Of course it will be, and of course tomorrow things will look brighter, but today I'm wondering where I put my lovely therapist's number, and if we could scrape together the money for a rescue-and-restore session with her.

Shit happens sometimes

and when it does there's not always much you can do about it but keep going and watch your step!
It would be really easy, after a difficult and demoralising day, to sink backwards down into the gloom but at this stage it's something I have a choice about doing, and I'm choosing to hang on.
Tough times are also an ideal opportunity to reflect on how far I've come. There was a time not that long ago when I thought everything that was not quite right in my life was a direct consequence of having Miss T.
And if you follow that warped logic to its conclusion, as I did, the next step is to believe that if she wasn't here all would be sunny and warm.
It sounds so stupid now, after a lovely fun bath and snuggly bed time, and when each day she amazes me by coming out with new words and phrases ("silly daddy" and "Cat miaow sssshhhh" are my particular favourites!) but that is genuinely what I believed.
But now, when some of my pink fluff gets blown away by life, I only think of Miss T in terms of how to protect her from the blustering. Some decisions would certainly be easier if we didn't have her to consider but that doesn't mean I would want to be making them without her.
So for the moment, I'm gathering up the fluff and hanging on to it as I negotiate the piles of poo.
And in better news, today was another good day at the childminders, and I had the opportunity for a bit of a chat about how she is doing which proved greatly reassuring.
More proof that sometimes even tough decisions pay off...