Eighteen weeks...or is it nineteen?

I've actually lost count. How bad is that? I think it's eighteen...nineteen on Tuesday.
Oh well.
Life rather got in the way last week, so apologies. And since then, there hasn't been much joy to share.
That combined with my previous state of mentalness does not paint a pretty picture. In fact, I'm starting to wonder whether what we are doing now, with anxiety levels of meds and gentle talking therapy, is a mere sticking plaster solution. I'm not sure I will ever achieve actual saneness. The sort where you can go about your life and not worry that what you are doing is totally wrong, or hugely offensive to someone, or likely to result in serious harm to someone. The sort where you can enjoy an afternoon, an hour or a moment without fretting about its consequences for the future. The sort where you can be with people and be happy rather than constantly stressed about what they are thinking and feeling.
Does it matter? Maybe not. But at the moment, the prospect of months and years living like this is not very appealing.
I'm not sure what else I can do though. I'm applying all the "strategies", I'm taking the pills. I'm living the dream.
I just have to hope it's enough.

16 weeks...

...and all is still meh. I feel like I'm living in a bubble. Like a piece of gauze separates me from the rest of the world. Like no one can see me or hear what I'm saying. And it's only a short step from there to wondering if anyone would actually notice if I wasn't here at all.
I know it's the effects of those good old pills, and I know that it's better that I take them. But I can't help wondering when I'll start feeling like me again.
Of course it's better that I can accomplish everyday tasks like shopping and driving without irrational panic. And of course it's better that some of the more extreme aspects of PND-me are muted. But I wish that didn't mean the whole of me had to be turned down too. Subdued. Flat.
I spent this afternoon at work and that was great. But that's just an escape. A distraction. My real life now is what I've been doing the rest of the week - juggling two children, housework and general domestic drudgery.
I can manage that, of course I can - it's not rocket science. But I want more.
I want to feel alive. I want to feel happy. I want to feel.
I want Miss T and Baby D to think of their mother as a vibrant, loving, fun person but at the moment I fear I'm more like a hologram. A reflection in water. And if you throw a pebble in, I just might disappear.
But if you reach your hand out, who knows, I might emerge...

technological problems and traumas

Fear not, I have not disappeared into the ether. I tried to post over the weekend but the stupid computer was having none of it.
Luckily, after the second time I managed to save it and have reproduced it below.
And today's post will follow, with a bit of a change of tone. Such is the life of Liz at the moment...


Grrrr! I just typed out another fantastic insightful post and then my computer died and lost it all!
But first of all, I hope you are all impressed with my latest technological milestone - the post below is from my phone! How cool is that?! Probably not very to all you geeks out there but it is for me...
Anyway, as I was saying before the computer let me down...this weekend has been full of milestones - Miss Tash came with us to buy her first big girl duvet and pillow and picked out the pinkest bedding set she could find.
It's quite wierd to see her in her cot with them - she's no longer a baby and I'm no longer in those hellish early days, and can look forward to the challenges and fun that her childhood will bring.
I'm also now drug free and no longer in therapy, so I guess I'm as sane as I can hope to be at the moment.
We had a really good session yesterday, with talk of how far we'd come, as well as talk of the future.
The statistic that terrifies me at the moment is that after having PND once there's a 50 per cent chance of having it again. That's a big risk to take if we decide to expand our family (with two-legged children rather than four-legged furry ones!).
At the moment I just can't contemplate that, for all sorts of reasons. I'm so not ready, for one. And I'm not ready to put Tash through something that could jeopardise our fledgling relationship - having a sibling would be stressful enough for her, without risking losing mummy to a big black hole as well.
If I'm honest, I'm not prepared to risk losing myself to that hole either. I've worked so hard to climb out of it and I feel like I need to get further away from the abyss before starting any dangerous manoeuvres. That's a really confused metaphor but I hope you understand what I mean.
Of course, that's not to say that we'll never have another child. I sincerely hope that in another year or so, when Tash is old enough for us to discuss her frustrations and attempt an explanation of how I am feeling, we might be brave enough to try.
But for now, I plan to work on enjoying the child I have before she's all grown up and it's passed me by.

drug free!

As of today, I am officially drug free! Off meds, clean, no more happy pills!
It was sort of under doctor's advice; I have been cutting down for several weeks but this morning I had a bulimic moment when I was reunited with my breakfast as I tried to take one of the stupid diamond shaped tablets and it got stuck in my throat and made me puke. And as I kept forgetting to take them it just seemed like the final straw so I've decided to stop.
And it feels great!
Of course, it's only day one of my new, post PND, drug-free life so it's a bit early to tell, but it really feels like the beginning of the end of this journey back to me.
I know loads of people hate the word journey in situations like this but that's what it feels like it's been - like I've been clawing my way back from the bottom of a cave towards the outside world, and I'm only just starting to rejoin reality.
This blog itself is another big step - my first foray into public blogging, as me instead of a carefully created altar ego. So please be gentle!