Late night thoughts...

I was directed to this earlier and I would recommend that everyone reading this reads it:

http://www.blogher.com/what-it-looks-when-ppd-attacks?from=sparkle

For some of you, it will be an interesting read, a moment of thought. For others, perhaps an echo of uncomfortable memories.

For me, it's a painful reminder that I may never be free of this.

I should preface the rest of this post with the fact that it is 1am, I'm listening to late-night radio and I see my therapist tomorrow so there are many thoughts competing in my head. I may not be at my most rational.

However. I didn't have to travel too far to be transported to that moment the author describes. I'm living it. I don't want to talk about it. But I don't want to be alone. I don't want to have to explain. But I want someone to know the feelings that threaten to crush me every minute of every day.

It's not just the emptiness, the awful hollowness that sees me sitting here in the early hours, knowing that I will have to deal with baby d in a few short hours, knowing that day begins for Miss T a few hours after that, but not having the energy to go upstairs and try to sleep.

It's not just the fear, the all-consuming fear that my inability to beat this will have long-term consequences for my children, and for my family. And for myself.

There's also the rage. The red, hot rage that can come from nowhere and can turn me into someone I don't recognise. Someone I have no control over. It's terrifying for me. I can only imagine how it looks to my children.

And that leads to the general unfairness of it all. Why can't I just be happy? Why can't I just enjoy what I have? I'm not living in a warzone, I have a loving family and a nice home, I have a career I love that I can return to. What is wrong with me that I let this enveloping blackness spoil everything?

Why can't I let go of my ridiculous need to be perfect?

And why does every encounter with a happy mother feel like a burning blade to my soul? They are everywhere; in the supermarket smiling sweetly as their offspring help with the weekly shop, at the school gates sharing anecdotes of their toddlers, at the only baby group I have been brave enough to attend, telling of the joy their children bring.

Don't get me wrong. I know there is light at the end of this tunnel. I know it because I've found it before. That is why this time is different to last. I know which hands to grab to pull me out of this. But I'm scared that even when I stumble out into that light I'll find it easily extinguished by moments like the one described by my fellow blogger.

No matter how quickly I overcome the blackness this time, and I believe I am heading in the right direction now, I know it will always be with me, its dark creeping fingers around my throat. I will never get back Miss T's baby days. I will never get a chance to redo these days where I've not dealt with her in the way she deserves. I can't undo the damage I've done, the moments that lead her to reject an opportunity to spend time alone with me - something that was supposed to be a treat for her and me.

I'm terrified that every day I spend finding joy in baby d's developing personality pushes me further away from her. I'm petrified that a gulf is opening between us that may soon be too wide to cross. And that if I don't find a way to beat this once and for all, that gulf will soon separate me from everyone else too.

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.

The universe and me...

Have I mentioned my new positive thinking ethos?
Maybe a few times.
Well, the good news (yes, you read that right!) is that maybe it's paying off.
To update you all, I said thanks but no thanks to the full time job after being offered a part time one from today's interview.
I haven't said yes to that yet though because I still have tomorrow to go! So I'm still confused, but confused and in demand which is not a bad place to be!
Maybe it's all just a coincidence but at this moment in time I'm thinking that things are happening for a reason.
I'm meeting people for a reason, I'm ending up in different situations for another reason.
I'm not always sure what it is, especially not at the time, but there is definitely a reason.
And since managing to accept that and go with it, things seem to be looking up.
It's really simple, as all the best things are - if something feels wrong, it probably is wrong, eg a full time job, but if it feels right, then go for it.
And to take this mumbo-jumbo, as I know some of you will call it, to the next level, I'm starting to think that if something keeps coming back to you then you should act on it.
I'm not quite ready to reveal exactly what keeps coming back to me, but I'm acting on it and seeing where it takes me.
That's a new thing for me as well - not revealing every minute detail of my life here. That doesn't mean this will turn into one of those annoying blogs where the writer hints at whatever is annoying her, or glosses over some personal tragedy - I'm still a firm believer in getting it all out there. But for now I'm just going with the flow and I'll let you know where I end up!

And now I'm sad.

But it's nothing to do with Tash or PND or my life.
Yesterday, the legend that is Adrian Sudbury, of Baldy's Blog (see the link to the right of this page) died. I never met him and only knew him through his blog but from that it was easy to see what an inspirational and truly great person he was.
So I'll confess to a tearful moment about that.
He had a lot of important things to say and continued saying them even though he knew he had only weeks left to live.
And his legacy will live on in his campaign to educate more people about joining the bone marrow register, even though his own transplant was unsuccessful. So please, think about signing up to save a life. And if you are in any doubt about why it matters a quick click through to his blog should be enough to convince you.
My other tearful moment was at that picture of the chimp and her dead baby. Horrible stuff.
But I suppose on the plus side I've coped with my own mini crises and traumas for the last few days with no wobbles about them.
And I've aquired a reader from New Zealand, according to my statistics thingy - so welcome!
x

I'm back!

Wow - four days without a post - that must be some kind of record!
Apologies if you've missed me - it's just been one of those weeks with so much going on.
But I think the lack of blog is a bit of a good sign, as there have been some days when I've felt like I would burst if I don't get it all out on here. Obviously not this week though!
So what's new?
Well, Miss Tasha is at the childminders at the moment and I really hope she's having fun. She screamed when I left but I'm focusing on how much she enjoyed playing with the other children before I went...
And I've been doing more thinking about this whole parent thing. I think I've said it before, but I really don't feel like a proper parent, yet I don't feel like myself either.
There are two things that really brought this home to me. The first was talking to a friend about the word "mum". It's one I hear a lot, but it just doesn't seem to apply to me. When I hear Tash saying it she could just as easily be saying dog or cat. I don't know how to explain this clearly but it just doesn't feel like I'm her mum...she must be talking about some grown-up person who would be better at looking after her.
And the other is hearing about other parents who seem able to enjoy pretty much the same life as their pre-child one. They go to music festivals, beer festivals, nightclubs, pubs - and don't seem to struggle with the same level of guilt that I would feel. Even going to work is problematic for me sometimes - if I see parents and children out together while I'm working I feel that should be me and that Tash is missing out.
Of course I know she's not, and besides I need to work to pay the mortgage and the overdraft, even if nothing else. But that old "should" word keeps rearing it's head. Days off "should" be family time, we chose to have a child so we "should" accept that lifestyle which involves a lot of nights in and family days out. And I like doing that, but should we do more by ourselves as well?
I know what my lovely therapist would say - who says I should, and that word is banned anyway.
And I can keep telling myself that, but it isn't working yet!
What does help sometimes is remembering that everyone has different ways of doing things, and Mark and I are a team so I'm sure together we can get at least some of it right. And if not there's always therapy for Tash later...
x