I am not ashamed!

End of an era

2011-12-26T12:45:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas to all my lovely readers - I do hope it has been good for you. Although I do know that for some of you it has been entirely the opposite. And it's fair to say it hasn't been one of the best here either.
But a new year is approaching, and I have every hope it will be a positive fresh start filled with love and laughter.
And with that in mind, this post marks the end of an era. I have decided it will be the last one for the foreseeable future here. Real life developments mean it no longer feels appropriate to post here, and many of the issues I have posted/ranted about are no longer relevant.
I will leave the blog up as a resource for those of you who have found it helpful, and for any in the future who may do so, but I don't expect to be posting here again.
I will be writing elsewhere, of course, because that is what I do, so maybe our paths will cross in cyberspace again.
In the meantime, thank you for sharing this journey with me, for your support and for reading my waffle. I have learnt a lot in the years I have been writing here, and I have learnt a lot from your comments, which shone like a beacon through some very dark times.
I wish you all peace and happiness in the future.

#PPDchat

2011-10-29T12:45:00.000-07:00

It's a sad fact that there aren't enough resources in real life to help women with PND and their families. It can be a struggle to get the help you need, and sometimes when you are already floundering in the darkness, it feels like a struggle too far.
But thankfully, as so many times, the internet can help fill that void.
It was quite by accident that I discovered the online army of the #PPDchat mums on Twitter. I can't even remember how I first came across them. I know it must have been on one of the darker days. And although I forget the details,I remember clearly the instant support and the warmth of the welcome.
Since then, I've joined the #PPDchat sessions a few times, when things are too much, when I can't see the light, when I just need to talk to someone who 'gets it'. And the response is always the same - immediate, supportive and full of faith that somehow we will all get through.
All the mamas there are fantastic in their own way, not least because they too are there because they know the hell of this experience.
But today is reserved for @signingcharity , who is always ready to give love and today needs a little back.
I don't know you as well as the other mamas, because I'm new and I can't be there every day. But I know the warmth of your words, the strength of your spirit and the generosity of your heart.
I'm amazed that you can give so much to others while dealing with so much yourself - that takes true strength.
It's okay to say you need help too. I hope I can help give it.

A maze of praise

2011-09-05T13:29:00.000-07:00

Someone said something nice about me the other day. In public. In fact, on Twitter.
Now, don't get me wrong - although it may sometimes feel like it, I don't in fact spend my days defending myself from verbal brickbats and people are often perfectly pleasant.
But when I read this comment, which was about my supportive nature, my immediate reaction was "That's nice, but they don't know me very well at all."
It's an interesting reaction, for me, at least. Partly because in fact I pride myself on being supportive and kind and on my empathy. It's one of the facets of my personality that I genuinely like. Yet I couldn't accept that someone else could recognise that in me.
It's one of the things I am working on. Like recognising the positives - including the fact that today was tough, workwise, but I'm proud of how I dealt with it.
I am determined to keep working on it, and everything else. I see my lovely therapist on Saturday for the first time in ages, and I'm desperate to make it into a positive session of strategies rather than an update on all the woe.
There is still plenty of woe. There are still those moments where I think I'm going to get swept over by the force of it, where I find myself fighting for breath in the maelstrom of self-loathing. But I haven't given into it for a while. So rather than beating myself up on the times that I have lost balance in the midst of the storm, I'm concentrating on the times I've clung on.
I know I said it in my last post, and I'm reassured by the response, but I'm so ready to move on from this. I don't want any more days when the thought of being at home makes me throat constrict.
I want to get better. I want my life back. And I will get there, one small step at a time.

September blues

2011-09-01T13:45:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's September. And that in a little over a week, my beautiful little girl will be starting school. Where did the time go?
I'm trying desperately to see this as a positive and to look at all we've achieved. She's a clever, funny, determined little thing and I know she's more than ready for the next step. The school she will attend is lovely, and she will have a great time and I will love seeing her learn new things.
But I'm also finding it hard that she is moving on and growing up. That I have no more time to "get it right".
I know much of this is normal, and I know of course starting school is not the same as moving out, and we will still have plenty of quality time together to enjoy. But I'm still struggling.
It doesn't help that the end of the summer means little baby D is also getting bigger. In a few short months he will be one - the first year of his life gone. I can't even contemplate that milestone at the moment, but its impending arrival prompts mixed feelings; relief that we have got this far and will never have to do those awful newborn days again, and sadness that so much of his first months have been blighted by woe. Actually, it would be more accurate to say my first months with him were blighted. I worry less that he was affected than I did about Miss T.
I feel bad for feeling like this. That's hard for me to say. And it makes me angry, at myself.
I know this is not my fault. I know this is part of the PND. I know I will get over it. I know that knowing other people have heart-breaking things to deal with does not make my own feelings, when on the face of it I seem to have everything I could ever want, any less valid.
But some people find it harder to see that way, and unfortunately I am finding it hard to ignore them as I usually would. I know it's their problem more than mine but when every fibre of my being screams out to try to make them understand it's hard to accept that some people will never understand, no matter how eloquently (or not!) I try to explain it. But their ignorance makes an already difficult time much tougher.
Others, of course, are fantastic. But I find it harder and harder to reach out as time goes on. To answer the question "How's things?" with the truth, and confess that despite the hours and hours we have spent talking - the hours and hours they have given up for me - that "things" are actually no better.
I think part of that is that more and more reminders of things I'd rather forget are popping up. But maybe that's just my wonky brain again. I see others in situations I have been in and I can't help wondering if their life path will mirror mine. In my head I know it is different - they are different people, they will make different choices, but it still fills me with an overwhelming sadness, and regret that I didn't make different choices when I had the chance.
I'm making the choice now to stop wallowing so you are spared more woe. Tomorrow is another day....and here's hoping for a good one.

Some random thoughts....

2011-08-11T12:05:00.000-07:00

I have had cause to be grateful for some fantastic friends lately, people who interrupt their own lives and put themselves out to stand as footsoldiers in the battle I wrote about last time.
There are others who are perhaps too far away or with too many other commitments to physically assist, but they are always quick to respond when I give in to the turmoil and reveal a wonky moment on Facebook or Twitter.
Those kindnesses mean more than I can say. When I am sitting alone in the house, struggling with my thoughts, the fact that someone has taken the time to send hugs over the internet, or even just to acknowledge that they have read my words and I am in their thoughts, brings a chink of light into the darkness.
Then there are those who do not respond. Perhaps they too have their own struggles – although I would have thought that predisposed them to responding to others – perhaps they are busy, perhaps they don’t know what to say.
I don’t know. But I can’t help wondering if the response would be different if I revealed I was struggling with a broken leg, or some other physical ailment.
Is it the fact that my difficulties are related to my mental health that is putting people off?
Is there a fear that perhaps it is catching? Or is it that people think it should not be discussed so freely? Perhaps people who sometimes find their thinking a little wobbly should go and hide themselves in dark rooms, preferably padded, until the madness passes.
Or maybe they are just bored of it all. I certainly am. I would like nothing more than to be the life and the soul of the party, with not a care in the world and without the cloud that sees to penetrate every moment.
I don’t know. I think I will never know.
But I do know that I am beyond grateful for those who have shown their support, and I will never knowingly ignore any cry for help I hear or see. Sometimes just tapping out a few lines on a keyboard is all it takes to bring someone back from the edge. And if people can’t be bothered to do that, what hope is there for society?

End of an era

2011-07-21T13:01:00.001-07:00

Miss T has had her last day at pre-school. In September, she will join the reception class of the primary school on the same site.
Of course, this is not a surprise to me. It's not like I suddenly woke up and she'd grown up.
But that's what it feels like. It's unbelievable that I have a four-year-old daughter. That the beautiful, funny, clever little girl who skipped along the road in front of me on the way back from school last week is part of me.
It's hard to connect her with the 'mewling and puking' baby I remember from those darkest of days.
But it's also hard to think that more than four years on, in some ways I am still no further forward. I am still searching for that chink of light in the darkness.
Of course, I know that is related to the arrival of baby D, and that before that we had made amazing progress. But the heights we had reached seem a long way off at the moment.
Battling this illness is just that - a battle. It's a constant uphill climb in search of the sun. And if you relax your grip on the cliff face, it's easy to slip back down. Or to find the ground has shifted without you noticing.
I am trying to see the positives; and Miss T is one giant positive. Baby D's radiant grin, so readily given whatever the time of day or night, and whatever else he may be going through, is another one. Both are the ropes I cling to every day.
I'm slowly learning they are what is important. I'm slowly learning from them to find the joy in the moment and the wonder in the world. I'm learning to follow their example and sieze every opportunity for fun.
And I hope, in time, with those lessons will come some peace.

25 weeks...and the guilt of a working parent...

2011-05-26T12:28:00.000-07:00

I was going to call this post "Nothing's right, I'm torn", so you could all sing it Natalie Imbruglia style...
Her lyrics summed things up nicely at the beginning of this week. Nothing was right - at home or at work - and I felt torn.
Thankfully things have improved, perhaps because I'm learning more about juggling things, but it's still difficult to let go of that ideal of being the "perfect" mum, the "perfect" worker and the "perfect" friend.
It doesn't help that poor baby D has been ill ever since my return. And yes, at first I did think there was a causal effect between the two. He was ill because I was being a terrible mother and going out to work. He didn't get better because he needed his mummy to be home taking care of him.
Situations like that bring my need to be in total control right to the fore. I know those who look after him while I work are more than capable. I know he has a great time and cries no more than he would cry if I were there. But they do not do things quite as I would do them, and that's hard for me to deal with. But I'm trying.
It's the same with Miss T. While at times it's been very trying being at home with her full-time for the last six months, it's also been great in many ways. We've built a closer bond and I cherish time with her. And we've built our own routines, our own ways to deal with certain scenarious and we know what we expect of the other.
So it's hard to see her behave in ways that are not as I expect, and to know that this behaviour continues when I'm not there to check it and hand out consequences.
But staying home with them full time is not an option at all. I need to work. Financially, yes, but also for my sanity. I had a check up today with my GP and she was amazed at the difference. I am me again, thanks to my time in the office. I am confident, I have fun, I am worth something.
And more importantly than that, I drive home every day (well, the four days I work) looking forward to seeing the children. And my days with them are precious. And that's a feeling that five months ago I wasn't sure I'd ever find again.

22 weeks

2011-05-05T13:39:00.000-07:00

I've just been packing up some of baby D's tiny clothes after successfully selling them online, and it made me sad.
Sad that he's growing up and there will be no more babies (but not sad enough to change my mind!) but also sad that yet again I've wasted parts of his babyhood.
Okay, at five months old he's not quite ready to move out but the truth is that yet again, I haven't been as connected with him as I'd like.
Yet again this awful illness has robbed me of some of the joys of this period; the time spent snuggling, the moments of bonding.
While this episode is nowhere near as bad as last time, it's still bad enough for me to feel it's affected my relationship with him. He's a lovely, smiley, chatty little boy and also a bit of a mummy's boy, but I don't feel the same connection with him that he seems to have to me.
Perhaps it's because I've started back at work this week - today in fact - but I can't help wishing I could go back and do this again.
I know that's partly because I still have this desire to do things 'right', and getting PND again was definitely not part of that, but I can't help feeling that I'm letting him down by the way I feel. And Miss T too, of course.
But it's for them that I keep fighting. I hope they know I'm doing my best.

21 weeks

2011-04-28T12:26:00.000-07:00

And yes, I do know it's 21 weeks. But only because we braved the health visitor last week and she told me it was 20 weeks. She also told me baby D was too skinny and we had to start weaning him onto solids, a lot earlier than I wanted to. I don't think I need to spell out how that felt...but if I did it would involve the letters b, a nd d. Another thing I can't get right. You get the picture.
Even leaving that aside, this has not been a good week. I can tell it's not good when I start depending on other people, without actually letting them know I'm depending on them.
Or when I can't even be bothered to explain it all, even here.
You know when you see a small child walking a big dog and they are being dragged along and literally can't stop it? That's how my mind feels at the moment. That old friend anxiety is back, with a few extra guests. I know it's irrational. I know the fact that Miss T has a sickness bug doesn't mean she's going to die. Or that if we put baby D (age almost five months, remember!) in his own room at night he will be fine and I won't go in there to find him lying cold and still. But I can't help it. I can't stop it. And I can't tell you how much I hate that.
I'm great at telling others their feelings are valid. And I know mine are too. But at the moment they are not welcome. Or useful. And they have no place in my life. But I can't make them disappear. And at the moment, I can't really let them out either.
So I'm stuck in no-mans land. Where I spend my days being dragged after that big dog (metaphorically - my dogs are too old and too well-trained on the lead to attempt to drag me anywhere!), my feet skimming the surface unable to get a firm hold. Where I can see trees and fence posts and other things that I could grab onto but I keep missing them or losing my grip.
But I'm going back to work next week. And I'm hoping that will at least persuade the dog to stop for a breather...

Eighteen weeks...or is it nineteen?

2011-04-17T12:19:00.000-07:00

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...

2011-04-01T13:20:00.000-07:00

...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...

15 weeks

2011-03-21T14:10:00.000-07:00

Today I am mostly feeling numb. Blah. Meh.
I know it's the result of those little white pills I swallow every morning, and I know it's part of the 'treatment', but at the moment I can't help wondering whether this is better than actually experiencing the emotions that help make me who I am.
Deciding to finally take the pills was a tough one for me. In my head, I know it's no different to taking a paracetemol for a headache, but in my heart it feels like giving in.
All the time I wasn't medicated, I could pretend this wasn't really happening. 'It's not as bad as it could be, at least I'm not on happy pills.' That sort of thing.
But after a tough few days and no decrease in the often-crippling anxiety, I knew I had to do it for the sake of my family.
I think part of the problem is that this time is different to the last time. Then, I knew I was depressed. So did everyone else. There was no question about it. So anti-depressants were a no-brainer.
Now, there are still plenty of people who have no idea. I think even those I see regularly are in the dark about what things are really like. Depression, in its traditional manner of all-consuming darkness, is not really the problem.
This time, it's the invading thoughts that I have to battle. The fear that the terrible pictures I see in my mind will become a reality. The nameless dread that 'something bad' will happen.
I know all these fears are irrational. I've been doing my best to battle them. But this is another of those occasions when my best is not good enough.
So for now, I need a helping hand from those little white pills. But other helping hands are welcome too...

13 weeks

2011-03-08T12:04:00.000-08:00

Today, as I went out to deposit a stinky nappy in the bin outside for the eighth time (yes, I had counted), Miss T asked where I was going.
For a split second, I wondered myself. I knew, as did she, that I was merely opening the front door to prevent the smell spreading through the house. But as I stepped into the sunshine and saw the long road to freedom, I very nearly shut the door behind me.
Of course, I didn't. And of course, I wouldn't. But the thought of just walking away and leaving it all behind was just so tempting. No more nappies, no more wailing, no more whining. Just freedom. Peace. Space.
I know it won't always be like this. And I know today was particularly testing, with Baby D refusing to nap and Miss T in full-on strop mode.
But that feeling, that craving for something else, is why I am organising my return to work.
I know there will be raised eyebrows at my plan to work a day (or at least a half day) a week starting very soon, and to return properly in May, when Baby D will be just five months old.
But I also know that for me it is absolutely the right option.
I cannot continue like this. I cannot spend Sunday nights battling crippling surges of anxiety at the thought of another week at home alone. I cannot spend my days hoping already over-stretched friends will have a spare hour to provide that much-needed adult company and distraction from my children.
It is not fair on me and it is not fair on them. Any of them. I don't want my valued friendships to suffer because I feel disappointed they do not have more to give. I don't want my children to wonder where mummy is going when she opens the door, or to have to ask where we are going today because they know we cannot be home all day.
I don't want my identity eroded any more by days wandering through streets populated only by other nameless faces, other people with nowhere else to be.
I am a mum. But I am also a person. And I need that space to be me.

Late night thoughts...

2011-03-04T17:05:00.001-08:00

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.

12 weeks

2011-03-02T13:28:00.000-08:00

If I'd written this post on Tuesday, when it was technically due, it would have been a very different one.
But sometimes it can be worth missing a deadline - just don't tell my editor that!
Today has been a good day. Sure, there was a bit of a hitch in the middle and some frustration I could have done without, but on the whole I've been amazed at the change in my perceptions.
I'd love to report that the shift is down to a new enthusiasm for life as a mum of two, but it's much more predictable than that. There are no prizes for guessing my renewed optimism comes after a visit to my workplace.
I'm not ashamed that I had/have PND and I'm also not ashamed to say that I love my job. I worked hard for my career and I am good at what I do. There is no shame in enjoying my life out of the house. It's a balance I struggled with when I had Miss T but this time I know that time away from the children makes my time with them better.
Today I was in the office to discuss my return to work in May, and the possibility of working some days before then.
All went well and it felt so good to be me again - working Liz, a respected colleague and person in her own right.
Even better, after the meeting (and some added catching-up time), it felt good to be headed for home and my two little ones. Usually I drive homewards with a heavy heart, knowing the drudgery that awaits, but this afternoon I couldn't wait to see their little faces and to spend time chatting and cuddling.
Of course, this doesn't mean that everything in the garden (or house!) is rosy.
There are still issues, still dark days, still tears. I'm keeping a mood diary for my therapist which is an interesting experience. When I fill it in at the end of the day, when the children are sleeping peacefully, it's easy to see the positives. But if I were to complete an entry for each hour or each section of the day, I think it would paint a different story.
One of the lowest points of this week was a comment from Miss T, that the worst bit of her day was when I wouldn't read her a story because I was trying to get baby D to go to sleep. I can remember the moment clearly. He was refusing to sleep in his cot, I had already been up and downstairs seven times, and she asked if I could read to her. My answer was that I would when he was asleep. But he didn't sleep. So she didn't get her story.
The scenario was the perfect example of what I hoped to avoid, and what I dread happening. I don't want Miss T to remember moments like that. I want her to remember a childhood of love, laughter and fun.
Rationally, I know those good moments will probably outweigh the bad, but it's like a punch to hear her say that, and another reminder that I still have a long way to go.
However, today, for the first time, I could see the road I have to travel, and I believed I had the fuel to get me there.

11 weeks...doing and feeling

2011-02-22T13:08:00.000-08:00

My therapist is fond of saying that doing leads to feeling. The theory is that if I act like a happy mum, I'll feel like one.
It worked wonders last time, when I spent months behaving in a way that did not match how I felt inside and it's time to give it a go as I battle back up that slippery slope to sanity.
So this week I'm making a conscious effort to, well, make an effort.
That sounds a lot easier than it is. It's that old cliche - when some people encounter someone who is depressed they are tempted to tell them to pull their socks up and just get on with it.
But as anyone who has been where I am knows, it's sometimes impossible to do anything other than just exist while battling the suffocating blackness.
However, I have a few more days before I have to make a decision on medication, so I'd like to see just what I can achieve without it.
So today I attempted to wrestle control back over my own life. It worked, in parts. We had a good afternoon (thanks in part to the support of one of those friends with whom you can just be) and the evening chaos was lessened by the fact that we had dinner with my big sister and Miss T is still there, enjoying a sleepover.
The morning was less successful but we all survived. And I feel more confident about tackling the rest of the week because of it.
Of course, this doesn't mean that I feel in control. Anything but. Anxiety is the latest old friend to rear its head and it's not a welcome addition.
My churning emotions are not conducive to behaving in a calm and in-control manner but for the sake of my family I have to keep trying.
So even though I feel like hiding away in the safety of my home, I'll be out and about with a smile on my face taking part in fun family activities.
At least it's a step closer to becoming the person I want to be.

This is not me...

2011-02-20T12:16:00.000-08:00

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.

Ten weeks...

2011-02-17T12:03:00.000-08:00

I was asked this week what I had to look forward to.
And I'm ashamed to say the only thing I could think of was returning to work.
As I sit here now, with both children sleeping soundly upstairs, of course I can see that there are plenty of positives around, from nights out with friends to fun times with both of them and spring just around the corner.
But at the time, as I thought of the future, I could only see days and days of darkness.
It was - and still is - a terrifying prospect, particularly as my mind is still battling to bury some of the old thoughts that have resurfaced.
I'm not alone in that quest, and this week's therapy appointment equipped me with some new tools to tackle them.
It also gave me a renewed sense of hope, although that's easy to achieve in a week when Mark's on earlies so my solo shift ends at 3pm and I'm not alone for the dreaded dinner-bath-bed battles.
That optimism was fuelled by the publication of the story of my first battle with PND in a health magazine, with a link to this blog.
It prompted a flurry of much-welcome support from people who had been previously unaware of my history, although I'm still deafened by the silence from some quarters.
The timing was nice as it was written before the onset of this episode and it served as a reminder that I have recovered before and I will do so again.
But there are many bridges to cross before then, and some of them feel particularly unstable, with the swirling water too close for comfort.
I'm still unsettled by the urge to return to the bad old self-harming days - it's something I thought I'd left behind years ago and it has no part in the life I have now, along with many of the issues that led to it back then.
But after a bad day, when I have not been able to deal with situations in the way I want to, it surfaces along with a little voice that tells me I deserve to be punished for being so utterly useless.
"You disgust me," it says. "Good mums don't lose control. Good mums don't fail."
I am seeing increasing evidence that actually, I'm doing okay - Miss T is always at preschool on time, even when I'm on solo school run duty, and we're all washed, fed and dressed before setting off; both kids are bathed most nights; we're working on her food issues and other attention-seeking behaviours.
But that can all be wiped out by throwaway comments like: "Having two children is easy when one is four and the other is a baby...", which I heard recently.
However. I can honestly say that I am doing the best I can, every second of every day.
And with the right support, and a sprinkling of sunshine, I will get there in the end. Starting with surviving next week's combination of half term and a late shift.

Nine weeks....and darkness descends

2011-02-08T01:03:00.000-08:00

I have been surprised by the speed of my mental decline.
Since I opened the floodgates with the last post, and the events leading up to it, things have gone decidedly wonky.
The thoughts are back.
I wasn't going to go into them, but for the sake of honesty, I will detail a few of them.
There is a family portrait taken before baby D that is one of my favourites. It's of the three of us, with Miss T holding onto her daddy and laughing at me.
Before all this, it was a happy family shot, but lately I see her sending a clear message of where she feels safest, and with whom.
And when the health visitor says Baby D's weight gain has slowed and his line on the chart has dropped, I hear: "You're a rubbish mum."
When Miss T's teachers say she is having some issues at preschool, I hear: "You're a rubbish mum."
And when no one responds or is available to respond when I finally issue a plea for help, I hear: "We're bored of your woe."
As I listen to my tears plopping onto my pillow, I can't help but wonder what sound dark red blood would make if I released it from my arm. If I still had the sharp razor blades I used to use, I'm convinced I would have tried it by now. Do they even sell them any more? At this point, I don't want to find out.
At the moment I don't feel part of the real world. I can see it, and I can see that it is me who is wonky, not others.
But even if I scream at the top of my voice that wonky part of my brain does not listen to the reason I still possess. And no one else can hear. It's as if the rational me is sinking underwater in front of everyone but somehow they can't see. And if that part drowns, what is left?
Before anyone starts hunting for a number for the men in white coats, fret not. Help is on its way. I have a doctor's appointment for Thursday, and am trying to squeeze in another therapy session soon.
There are lifejackets. I just have to work out how to reach them.
But in the meantime I need places to go where it's okay to be sad and where someone will distract Miss T while those tears go plop as they land.

Eight weeks plus...

2011-02-04T13:22:00.000-08:00

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.

Six weeks...

2011-01-21T12:35:00.000-08:00

Apologies this post is late - such is life with baby D and Miss T. Sometimes things get in the way.
This week, real life has pushed its way into our baby bubble with a vengeance. Some of it good (a work function that gave me valuable time to remember what it is that makes me more than just a mum) and some of it bad.
I heard this week that a former colleague commited suicide in the most awful way. I can't claim her as a friend and I have no knowledge of what was going on in her life, but have since learned she suffered with depression and it all just became too much.
I can't articulate how sad that makes me feel. Sad that I didn't know she felt such pain and couldn't offer to help. Sad that she believed there was no other way. Sad that her family and friends are left so bewildered and lost.
But I'm also angry. Angry that this blackness is so hard to fight and that sometimes it wins. It sounds trite but it makes me more determined to keep on fighting - I don't want to get sucked so far down I can see no way back up.
So what of my life?
Well, six weeks is supposed to be a magical milestone when the sunshine returns and all's well with the world.
It's not quite like that here. But there are chinks of light in the clouds!
The official verdict from my therapist and the health visitor is borderline mentalness - I suppose it's good they both agree!
There are good days, and there are bad days. Lately bad days but I think that's related to the above.
And the mad list?
Here is is in case you'd forgotten...
) Reluctance to be alone with the baby
2) Avoiding interaction with the baby
3) Auditory hallucinations
4) Not getting out of bed
5) Excessive crying
6) Obsession with perfection in other areas, eg housework
7) Obsession with being seen as superwoman, ie not failing at anything
8) The thoughts...I don't know how else to describe them. Imagining bad things happening...
9) Reliance on others for activities, ie packed diary of social events and feeling of disaster if any are cancelled
10) Denial of change in circumstances, ie "I'm still me,this baby isn't relevant...", annoyance with people's insistence on discussing it...

It's looking better than I feared. There have been tears, but there has been sadness and I think that's okay. At least I'm acknowledging it.
I can confidently say there is no perfection in my housework, and baby D and I have plenty of interaction.
Problem areas? I still hate to fail - I hate if he cries and I can't fix it or if Miss T is struggling with something because it feels like a reflection of my parenting skills.
And I'm definitely relying on my lovely friends and family to keep me floating near the surface and I'm lucky so many of them are playing their part in this. Some are still missing and others are just not worth talking or thinking about. If they reappear once this is over I'm afraid they will get a very cool reception. I can't help but feel angry at the way some have acted.
And number 8. One of the scariest. I have to confess there have been some of those thoughts. I'm not ready to discuss them just yet. But I know they are there. I have so far been able to deflect them thanks to the work I've been doing to prepare for them and I hope that continues.
One thing my colleague's untimely death has brought home to me is the importance of asking for help if you want it - after some encouragement I have been doing so and in the main people have responded. I know there are those who believe I should keep it all hidden and paint on a happy face but that just doesn't work for me.
It relates to what I have ranted about in previous posts. I am not ashamed that this is happening to me and I'm not ashamed to talk about it.
But that doesn't mean I'll spill all for entertainment or to give certain people something to be related later over dinner...if you didn't care enough to be there when I needed it, don't expect to be told now.

Something else a bit different....

2011-01-10T14:33:00.000-08:00

I wanted to do this a while ago, but life got in the way. Better late than never...

To my beautiful daughter,

You have dealt with a lot in your four short years with our family, from a mummy who didn't know how to love you to the arrival of your baby brother. But you haven't let it faze you and I'm so proud of the person you are becoming.
Your cheeky grin brightens even the darkest days, and you'll never know how important that is to me. And when your face lights up and you rush over as I walk in the door I'm always glad I came home.
We waited a long time before deciding to expand our family partly because we were worried about the effect it might have on you. We've had such fun in the last year and I had to be sure it was worth risking that to give you a brother or a sister.
I hope, in time, you'll agree that it was. I didn't always get on with my sisters when we all lived together but now they are some of the most important people in my life. I hope you and Daniel will experience the same thing. Maybe with a bit less fighting in between...
I know it feels like the fun has been on hold lately, but I promise it won't always be this way. We'll still have our special times together and they'll be even more precious as your brother grows and inflicts boyness on our household.
I promise to always make time for you and your pinkness, and to use the dreaded "in a minute" phrase as little as possible.
I promise to do my best to make sure he leaves your shoe collection, hair pretties and other special things alone, and to spare you from football and dinosaurs - unless you want to join in with him.
You've taught me all I know about being a parent, and I'm doing the best job I can for you. I know I get it wrong sometimes but I do try to learn from my mistakes and to make decisions with your welfare in mind, even though you may not always agree.
I know we'll have more clashes as you grow, and I remember how traumatic those teenage years can be. But I also know that our relationship is strong enough to weather those storms.
I promise to always hear what you say and I promise you will always be my best girl. Forever.
All my love,
Mum.

Five weeks..

2011-01-10T13:08:00.000-08:00

Another premature update, but hey, at least it's an update!
I've survived another week. Believe me, that's an achievement in itself.
Other achievements? Both kids are still alive, have been regularly fed and dressed in relatively clean clothes.
I got everyone out of the house on time last week for the school run, and was only late picking Miss T up once.
We've had some days without tears (from me, at least - I don't think either child has yet managed that milestone...) and we've had some fun times.
Less positive aspects? I've lost control a few times and really shouted at Tasha, I've had times when baby D and I have been out and I just haven't wanted to go home, and there was one memorable moment when Natasha ended up fetching me tissues and giving me hugs when it all got too much. That's not how I want her life to be.
I've also seen my lovely therapist who put some things in perspective. After seeing her I did feel a lot more positive - the general conclusion was that I'm not yet mad, but on the cusp of it. However she feels that with the right intervention we may yet be able to avoid the dark side.
She insists that it's good to show extremes of emotion to Miss T and I can see her point, which is that it is part of life, but it's hard for me to accept that. It's just not the way I'm used to.
So the edge of the cliff is starting to look a bit further away - on some days at least.
I continue to be surprised by how amazing some people can be, and how oblivious others are. I've tried to ask for help - and could not have predicted those who responded - but maybe I wasn't clear enough. I do know that I need it. Those days where I can get out of the house and meet people are so much easier to bear than the ones where I'm home and the combination of four walls and two children is almost too much.
Having said that, today I was alone with both of them all afternoon and we all just about survived. The only meltdown was over dinner which is nothing unusual at the moment and I managed not to react. It was a close-run thing but I managed it.
Tomorrow we also have no plans and I won't pretend that's not scary. I'm hoping some of my requests for assistance will pay off but if not I'll do my best and that will have to do. I have no more to give.

Four weeks...

2011-01-03T11:11:00.001-08:00

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.

Three weeks...

2010-12-28T12:33:00.001-08:00

Baby D is three weeks old today. And what a three weeks it has been.
In some ways it feels like he has been here forever. But in other ways I'm reminded how new he is and how little and vulnerable.
For obvious reasons, I don't have time to write much. But there are some things I need to get out. Lots of things, in fact, but some of them will have to wait.
For now, a quick update - for me, as much as for you, dear readers.
All started very promisingly, with no sign of the dreaded blackness, and I was optimistic we had been spared.
I'm not so sure now, but equally I'm trying not to 'catastrophise', as my lovely therapist says, and to take things one day at a time. Some days are bad, some days are good.
Today was good. Yesterday was bad. But the stresses of Christmas don't help and I wonder if when normality resumes things will look sunnier. At least today I can see myself waiting until then - yesterday that felt like a yawning chasm of bleakness.
I haven't dared check my 'mad list' from a few posts ago. I know I would tick some of the boxes. I spent half an hour in the shower on Boxing Day just because I couldn't face getting out and facing the tantruming four-year-old and demanding newborn waiting for me when I did.
That doesn't sound too bad until I add that a good portion of that time was spent crying. Then it looks like another tick on that dreaded list.
In the interests of honesty, and for myself, I must record my disappointment at the readiness of the army I hoped I had amassed. Some people have been fantastic. Others I have not yet heard from. I've been surprised at the names in both camps. But this is a long haul, and Christmas is a more important distraction for many than the madness of a friend. I live in hope things on that front will improve.
Of course, if I asked for help I'm sure it would come, but I'm finding that quite hard to do. But I don't need anything practical - just a feeling of not being abandoned would be enough.
Equally, there are some people with whom I feel like I am under a microscope, being scrutinised for failings or mentalness. Do I see another tick on that list?! I'm sure they are trying to help but I feel under pressure to be fine so that's the answer I give in those frequent interviews with them. And they do feel like interviews - especially those with the medical professionals who see "Previous PND" in red all over my notes. They get through their other questions, then it's always the same routine. Pen down, head on one side, and out it comes..."And how are YOU feeling?"
This is all a bit of a waffle and baby D is stirring - plus I have a million other things to do, so I will leave this self-indulgent waffle here.
For those of you who are now concerned, I will contact my therapist once the Christmas chaos is over and get her take on things. I have to see my GP too for other issues so if nothing has changed will discuss this there.
I know what to do. I've been here before. I just didn't want to be back here again. Fingers crossed this is still a two-way street.

I wasn't going to do this...

2010-11-22T07:44:00.000-08:00

...but what's the point of having this if I don't use it when I need to?
After all, I've seen the results when things are glossed over or ignored when in fact they need to be aired.
So I've been feeling pretty well prepared for baby number two and dealing with everything that involves.
That's not some fluke, in case anyone is in any doubt - it's the result of a lot of hard work with my lovely therapist, with Mark and with myself. Not always pleasant, but necessary to give us the best start possible as a family of four.
That is my focus - our family, and preserving and developing it. Mark and I are stronger than we have ever been and we feel ready to tackle PND again if we need to.
Others have been fantastic too, and I feel confident there is a small army waiting in the wings if and when we need them.
But sadly, there appear to be a few members on an opposing army. People who have perhaps forgotten - or been too wrapped up in themselves to realise - how close to the edge we came last time because of what was triggered by Miss T's arrival. All kinds of edges, in fact.
People who perhaps haven't noticed what we've already dealt with this time.
I doubt those people will ever read this. But I need to say it anyway.
My family is a unit. There are four of us. Anyone who has an issue with one will have to deal with all of us. And I'm not afraid to withdraw our family unit - as a whole - from anyone who is not a positive influence.
And if that happens, that will be your loss, not mine.

And now for something a bit different...

2010-11-15T11:52:00.001-08:00

I wanted to do this, and here seemed like as good a place as any! Hope you can all indulge me...normal service will be resumed soon!

Dear baby boy,
You will be here soon, and things could get a bit hectic for a while. So I wanted to take advantage of the peace and quiet of these last few days to write my hopes and fears for you - and for me.
I'm so excited about meeting you. I know things won't always be perfect (and believe me, that's been a hard lesson to learn!) but I'm working on being the best mum I can be to you and your big sister.
I want things to be different to when she was born. But that doesn't mean I want things to be perfect. I don't care if the house isn't spotless when the health visitor or your relatives come - in fact, as I sit here typing this I can see clutter that needs putting away, dust that needs sweeping and a rug that needs vacuuming.
But that doesn't matter. What matters is getting to know you, and adjusting to our new lives as a family of four.
It will be hard for all of us in different ways. Your dad has a lot of pressure as well as he worries about all of us, and your sister is very excited but will have a lot of hard lessons of her own to learn.
You've already taught me a lot and although it hasn't always been fun (I could have done without the gestational diabetes and pre-eclampsia!) it's been useful. Before you've even arrived you've let me know in no uncertain terms that you are not the same as your sister.
And that means things will not necessarily be the same as they were when she was born.
I'm sure you'll let us know if things are not quite to your liking, just as your sister will, but I hope we can all learn to compromise together and build a loving family unit. Actually, that should be "build a bigger family unit" - the three of us are already a strong unit and we have plenty of love for you too.
I promise to try to remember that you are different to your sister. You will have different tastes, likes and dislikes, and a different personality. That's okay - just look at me and your aunts!
I also promise to try not to compare the two of you - I know how annoying that can be. And I promise not to take sides - and to make sure you know that you will always be my best boy, while your sister will always be my best girl. There's a special place in the family for both of you.
It's no secret that I find it hard to be a mum, and I won't pretend that's changed.
But your sister has done a great job in training me and I will be able to use the skills she taught me for you. And while you may not be as appreciative of glitter and pinkness as she is, I promise to try to embrace boy noise and boy energy as I learn to be your mum too.
I hope I can teach you things too, and I know your sister will try to impart her wisdom and knowledge. Please be patient with her - she means well!
We're all eagerly awaiting your arrival, and I hope when things get tough that you can remember how much you are loved and wanted, just like your sister.
With love,
Mum.

It's time to look back...

2010-11-01T13:25:00.000-07:00

I don't really want to, but I can't avoid it any more.
One of my lovely therapist's "strategies" for avoiding/coping with PND version two is to produce what I have affectionately termed a 'mad list'.
The idea is that I write down, so it's there for all to see, a list of symptoms and behaviours that characterised PND-me last time. Then, if anyone spots more than one or two of them recurring, they can have a little word.
Of course, that last bit is probably easier said than done. And to be honest, dear readers, if you do spot them, it's probably best if you have a little word with Mark who has been armed with some key words and phrases to use in discussing the situation with me. Just so you know, "Everyone thinks you've gone mad again," is not one of them!
On the subject of honesty, I should (oops, there go those shoulds again!) have done this list weeks ago. Probably months ago. But I just couldn't face it. I don't want to relive those times.
I had a bit of a reminder the other day at yoga - the well-meaning teacher was discussing those first days with a newborn and pointing out that it isn't always a bed of roses. Her openness wasn't well-received by everyone in the group but it such struck a chord with me that it all came flooding back - especially when she revealed she didn't feel like herself until her son was three.
Oops - now I'm procrastinating again. I did warn you I didn't want to do this...
But I have to for my sake, and for Mark's and of course for Miss T's.
So here goes....your guide to mentalness, by me!

1) Reluctance to be alone with the baby
2) Avoiding interaction with the baby
3) Auditory hallucinations
4) Not getting out of bed
5) Excessive crying
6) Obsession with perfection in other areas, eg housework
7) Obsession with being seen as superwoman, ie not failing at anything
8) The thoughts...I don't know how else to describe them. Imagining bad things happening...
9) Reliance on others for activities, ie packed diary of social events and feeling of disaster if any are cancelled
10) Denial of change in circumstances, ie "I'm still me,this baby isn't relevant...", annoyance with people's insistence on discussing it...

I could go on, but I think I've covered most of it. It's not pleasant reading, is it? Not for me, anyway.
I so want things to be different this time, but I'm wary of that becoming an obsession...but maybe I'm overthinking that...
Anyway, it's late, I'm tired and I'm still getting used to the realities of maternity leave, ie full-time motherhood with no escape. I'm enjoying most of it, but I also know this is not an option for me permanently. Give me a busy newsroom any day!

Update

2010-10-13T11:43:00.000-07:00

I should be working, but I'm not in the mood, so as I promised you more entries, here you go!
So what's new? I'm still here, and that's a start...
The cliff edge is still looming some days, but as predicted, my lovely therapist helped put some perspective on the situation.
It's funny; I already know everything she tells me, about mindfulness and keeping control of negative thoughts, but somehow it gets lost in the fog when things seem bad, or when I haven't seen her for a while.
That's why my next move will be to text her and arrange our next appointment, probably our last before we are a family of four.
Since I saw her I have been reining myself in a bit, but I admit it's been tough. Sometimes it's easier just to give in to the waves of disaster as they roll in.
Take the latest update - about three weeks ago I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. It's not a disaster at all; I feel fine, it's quite common, it can be controlled/treated and we are well along that road now, but my first thought was that this was yet another problem that showed it was a mistake to try to extend our family.
We'd already had a scare with an early scan that showed a possible problem - it turned out to be fine - but of course I interpreted it as a asign from the universe that we should have stuck with Miss T. And that's before I even consider the impact a new arrival is going to have on her!
But at the moment, I'm not going down that road. I'm concentrating on the lovely sibling relationships I've seen lately and the fact that even if the worst happens and the blackness descends, there are plenty of hands waiting to pull me out.
So for the moment, despite things not going to plan, I'm feeling positive. Fingers crossed that continues!

On the edge of a cliff....

2010-09-09T12:57:00.000-07:00

If you were standing on a cliff, and knew there were paramedics and rescue crews at the bottom, would you jump?
That's kind of how I feel at the moment. Except I'm in freefall and now I feel like I want to change my mind.
Shall I start at the beginning? You've certainly missed quite a lot, dear readers (if I have any left), in the months since I last updated this blog. But I have a feeling updates will be coming more often for the next few months...
So, I've jumped off the cliff. Metaphorically, of course. I hinted at it in my last post, and the one before that, if you can think (or scroll) back that far. After much discussion and soul-searching, lovely Mark and I decided to try for another baby. Or rather, to stop not trying. So it shouldn't have been a surprise when the inevitable happened, but somehow it was.
After an initial freak-out, I thought I was doing okay with things. I saw my lovely therapist a few times, we discussed strategies and options and I felt in control of things.
But now, with less than three months to go until my life - and Miss T's life - changes completely, I'm less sure.
Of course, things may be different, but in reality it's highly likely that this awful blackness will descend again, only this time Miss T could end up swept up in it too.
Of course, I already know my lovely therapist and I don't have to fight to get treatment - in fact, it's written in red pen all over my notes - but I'll still have to hit the bottom of the cliff before I can start to put myself back together. And that's a terrifying prospect.
If I'm totally honest, (which surely I have to be on here, or what's the point of having this outlet?) I can already recognise some of those old feelings creeping back in. Wanting to avoid the world and hide away, to be anywhere but here, to let someone else deal with everything.
I know lots of people feel like this, but it's so familiar to me that I can't believe it's just a bad week.
I am due another paid-for therapy session, and I know that will help, but I also know that the overwhelming urge I've had to get these words out here is not a good sign. Hence my fear that I'm in freefall, and the prospect of hitting the bottom is not an enticing one.
I wanted things to be so different this time. In fact, (total honesty again) my first thought on seeing the positive pregnancy test result was that I could get things right this time. Of course, I recognise that's not a healthy reaction and a session with the lovely therapist soon sorted that out. But I still wanted it to be different.
It is, in some ways. Last time, I can now see that I was in a sort of denial for a long time before Miss T was born, and I hated any mention of the pregnancy or my life as a mum.
This time, I'm not in denial at all. But I'm terrified. Because I know how bad it can be, and I know how hard it is to make it better.
I'm terrified of what the costs of that decision Mark and I made back at the start of the year will be. Will it be our relationship? My relationship with Miss T? Or - that dreaded honesty again - my job? After all, according to the books I've read, mothers with two children often end up going mad and having to give up work. I'm halfway there already!
I know I can survive - I've done it once before. But at the moment, I do wish I hadn't jumped off without wrapping myself in the softest cotton wool first. Or looking for another way down.

Parents' evening woes

2010-06-16T11:20:00.000-07:00

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.

Decisions....

2010-02-23T13:43:00.000-08:00

To plan or not to plan? That's a decision in itself! And one I'm finding quite hard lately.
I've a history of getting what I want. Which is great. But it assumes I know what I want...
I wanted to go to City University, even though there were 1,500 applicants for 35 places on my course. I got in.
I wanted to graduate with a first class degree. I did.
I wanted to work on a local paper. I'm now working on my third.
I wanted a daughter and I've got the lovely Miss T.
I wanted a text book water birth and it all went my way.
I didn't want PND, but I knew what I had to do to recover and once I convinced others to see it my way and help me, I got better.
Do you see the pattern?
I've had a plan for as long as I can remember, from when I was first old enough to write to-do lists each day.
But now I am without one, and I can't seem to construct one. And I'm not sure if it matters or not.
I have no career plan, beyond enjoying what I'm doing and seeing what happens. And there's no grand plan for my home life either.
I heard something interesting the other day: "Fear is letting things happen rather than making them happen."
I wonder if that's the case? Is letting fate/the universe/whatever take over just a cop out? Or a much-needed break and a bit of freedom?
I honestly don't know.
I couldn't count how many decisions I make a day, from the easy ones I do without thinking like shower or breakfast first or what to give the snail to eat, to the ones that take some negotiating like whether to let Miss T wear her chosen outfit even if it includes a pink leotard and net skirt.
That's not including the ones I take in the office, often made under pressure and sometimes with far-reaching consequences.
So why do I find it so hard to make those important decisions about the direction of my life?
Maybe it's because they have such an impact on others now - I'm living with the consequences of accepting my first "management" job, and not all of them are pleasant, starting with the days I hardly see Miss T.
But deciding not to work, for example, would risk resentment and unfulfillment for me. Not that I'm considering not working - I still love what I do.
Oh dear, this is another not-making-much-sense post. But if anyone has any thoughts - or a 10-year plan template to show me - I'd be grateful!

Grrrrrr!

2010-02-06T14:38:00.000-08:00

I am cross this evening. Not because I've just had to pay a parking fine (which was entirely my own fault and unavoidable but still annoying!). Or because I've just finished doing some work I didn't get time for during the week, when I'm actually paid to work. And more is waiting for me tomorrow...
No, today I am cross after deciding to take some time out to read some of my parenting magazines. Normally this is one of my favourite activities, combining two of my interests; parenting and writing/reading,and it's a rare treat to get a moment to myself to read them. But today the feature writer at Mother and Baby magazine turned my treat into a torture (almost - I may be exaggerating but I like the alliteration...).
In a seemingly innocent feature about one woman's story of PND she managed to encapsulate all the things that make me mad (not literally!) about this illness. It was blurbed on the cover and I actually hunted it out inside instead of waiting until I came across it. On the face of it, the feature should be a good thing because it's more exposure of the illness and it had options for help and support at the end of it.
But in fact it was so stereotypical, patronising and predictable that I'm glad I didn't read it when I was actually still mad (rather than cross-mad). The woman they chose to feature - and I'm sure it was a deliberate editorial decision - had PND with her first child, the result of an unplanned pregnancy when she was 18. She was, predictably, a single mum living in poverty: "I had no life, no money, no friends..."
After several suicide attempts (including breaking several bones jumping off a multi-story car park) her family intervened and she was sectioned. That gets a mention in the last column of the second page. The rest of that column deals with what happened afterwards, including another three children with a different man, and the obligatory moral message: "I'm telling my story to spare others the suffering I endured. I want expectant mothers to know about this terrible illness so they can spot the signs and ask for help."
All very nice.
But it's not. And that's the problem. The whole article reinforced the misguided impression that PND is somehow a circumstantial illness. There was mention of chemical imbalances, but only AFTER the poverty and misery of her life. The very clear message seemed to be that of course she ended up with depression because everything was so awful. And indeed it was.
But for many people it's not. What about those like me, who end up with PND after the textbook birth of a planned baby within a happy marriage? I found myself reading the article and wondering what my excuse was. And I'm sure I'm not alone. It brought to mind a conversation with a friend last year who developed PND with her second child, who ended up in hospital as a tiny baby with a serious infection.
"I'm not surprised - there was so much going on that it was just too much to deal with," she told me, as if she had to justify her diagnosis
It's almost as if you can't admit to PND if you don't have a sob story to go with it - a bit like the criteria for succeeding on the X Factor.
I'm not cross with the subject of the article (actually, I am a bit, after browsing her own blog and finding it particularly annoying) but I am fuming with the author and seriously considering penning a "Disgusted of..." letter in response. If I had read this while I was still ill I would have felt even more inadequate and worthless - particularly as her story was careful to describe the "rush of love" she felt when her son was born, the one I never experienced that started all my problems.
I'm not sure I'm making much sense, so I'm going to stop ranting now, but I just wanted to get this out somewhere. I appreciate everyone's story is different (and maybe secretly I just want mine featured in a magazine!) but I do think this was an irresponsible feature in a publication many vulnerable women will read.
End of sermon!
And I am still a little bit cross about the parking ticket....

Hopes

2010-01-13T12:58:00.000-08:00

Another slightly belated post, sorry!
So it's now almost mid-January, but I'm still optimistic enough to think of hopes for the new year, and indeed the new decade. They are not resolutions, because my resolve is weak, especially when confronted by chocolate biscuits, but simply hopes that I would like to become reality.
I hope to find some sort of work/life balance that works for me, my job and my family this year. I don't expect it to be the same balance that works for others, and I'm sure it will seem precariously perched to many, but I want a ratio that allows me time to pursue my professional ambitions (that sounds grander than they are!) and to play with glitter as well. If I get time to do a bit of housework and even some cooking, that would be a bonus. Probably. Although actually, I did both at the weekend and really quite enjoyed it.
I hope to be the best I can be. The best mum, the best wife, the best friend, the best sister etc etc (fill in as appropriate to you - if you don't know me, then I hope to be the best blogger I can be for you!). Note the disclaimer - the best I can be. I hope to finally be able to totally let go of my quest for perfection and accept that my best is good enough. And there's nothing wrong with good enough.
I hope to have fun. Maybe with glitter, maybe by indulging in a bit of office practical joking, maybe over wine with friends, but I hope to remember to make room in my life for things that are just for fun.
I hope to be healthy. We all know this means more exercise and less chocolate so enough said.
That's probably it. There are other, smaller goals, and other, bigger ones, but they can all be slotted in to the above hopes. And after hearing that an old school friend of mine died from cancer on New Year's Eve aged just 30, I hope to remember that sometimes just being here and remembering to be grateful for it is enough.

Three years, and counting

2009-12-28T10:01:00.000-08:00

It's a frantic time of year, but Miss T's third birthday seemed a good opportunity for a reflective blog post. Of course, that's not necessarily how this will turn out...
It was actually her birthday a few days ago, but work and Christmas got in the way!
So let's look back over the last three years.
That's easy to do simply by scrolling through these blog entries, where the journey from mad mummy to today's saner version is clear to see, via happy pills and the lovely therapist.
But there have been lots of changes to the lovely three-year-old Miss T over those years as well, of course. And in many ways that is the more incredible journey. I still find it hard to work out how this chatty, funny, clever, stubborn child grew from the helpless and passive infant. Although, to be fair, she was desperate to talk almost from day one.
We have some lovely days together, although bizarrely most of those are when we are alone. I still find it difficult to fully immerse myself in mum mode when there are people around (by people I mean family - of course I don't ignore her in crowded shopping centres!). Part of that is because she has such fun with other people that I like to hang back and let her get on with it rather than interjecting with "mummy moments" like "Please say pardon, not what," or "Try to use your nice voice when you are asking for something, and don't forget to say please,". But if we have a whole day to ourselves it is often a real joy - something I never would have imagined three years ago. Whatever we do, from cooking to painting or even shopping, we share some very special moments.
Perhaps some of that is because whole days of just mummy and Miss T are quite rare because of work.
Actually, not that rare - we have Wednesdays and most weekends. It's fine. It's just different from what I expected. But that's okay too.
That's one of the biggest changes of all in these three years - I can go with the flow a lot more. I don't have any long-term career plan, any long-term family plan, not even a plan for the rest of this week (besides work and Christmas!).
But that's okay. And that's the best bit of all, from someone who used to have to-do lists for every single day that often started with "Get up, have a shower, have breakfast...." and continued right through to "Clean teeth, go to bed".
It's amazing how I have changed, and amazing how she has changed, and she still surprises me every day. I hope I can continue to surprise myself as well.

(((hug)))

2009-12-18T13:14:00.000-08:00

This post was nearly all sorts of things. It started as a report of my first experience of a birthday party for one of Miss T's school friends - we survived even though I had to text her mum first to ask how old she was, and I didn't know anyone's name.
Then it was a pensive post about health issues, or the lack of them, after news that yet another friend has spent time in hospital with their child - there have been admissions for pneumonia, swine flu and minor operations but we are yet to set foot inside a hospital with Miss T.
Then I considered updating you all the latest challenging behaviours she has come up with and how we are dealing with them.

But then I got this hug.
And suddenly none of that mattered.

It's things like this that make me realise just how far we've come. When I come home from work and a minute later am engrossed in a conversation about school and her friends, or she has grabbed her farm set for some special snuggle time (don't ask me why we need the farm to snuggle, but it's become a tradition) I realise it doesn't matter that some things don't go to plan. What's so great about planning anyway?
So we haven't managed to ride the Santa train this year even though I wanted it to be our special family tradition. We've been for a snowy walk to look at Christmas lights instead and made a unique Christmas cake featuring marshmallows. Yes, marshmallows. Again, don't ask.
So there are still times when I am so frustrated I could cry (and sometimes I do) and I forget she is not behaving badly on purpose (most of the time). A good cuddle fixes it all.
It's something I'm going to try to remember in future.

The pursuit of perfection

2009-11-24T13:56:00.000-08:00

Why is it so hard for me when things don't go to plan?
Don't answer that question!
Actually, although today has been a challenge, hence this rare midweek post, it could have been a lot worse.
But I do find it difficult when I don't live up to my own expectations. I know I can do things so much better, and be so much better, and when things largely outside my control intervene it's hugely frustrating.
On the positive side: I can recognise that it's my own expectations that lead to the feeling of pressure and disappointment when something goes wrong. I know that if they do go wrong it's not because I am a bad person or useless or stupid.
On the negative side: I still need to work on handling that disappointment and pressure in the moment. And avoiding it in the future. And it is still a battle to prevent it becoming an all-consuming, crushing emotion.
But tomorrow is another day, and for that I am grateful. I am also grateful for this blog as an outlet for these self-indulgent ramblings, and to you, my long-suffering readers!

"I didn't realise you were a mum...."

2009-11-17T13:36:00.000-08:00

That's a comment I've heard quite a few times lately and I'm puzzled by it.
Mostly it's at my new place of work and I can think of several reasons for it, when I think logically:
1) We're so busy we don't really have time to get into deep personal conversations.
2) There's no room on my desk for photos, although Miss T is my screensaver - but I've always got programmes open on the screen.
3) I often stay late, so people assume I have no nursery pick-up etc to do (when the truth is that the ever-helpful grandparents are on duty, again...)
But it does bother me, if I'm in a tired and emotional state. Do I not seem motherly? And when they find out I do have a daughter, and a small one at that, their shocked expressions seem to indicate that I should be at home rather than pursuing a career.
It's a fact that the industry I work in can be male-dominated, perhaps because it demands unsocial hours that are difficult to do with children if there are no ever-helpful grandparents on hand, but one of my new colleagues has two small children and no one seems to express surprise to her.
Perhaps part of it is my fault - in the same way I saw my pregnancy as irrelevant to my work and was irritated by the constant questions whenever I was out trying to do my job, Miss T is not part of my working day, although I often miss being with her.
But I simply don't have time to engage the office in fascinating discussions about her latest achievements, and nor does anyone else.
That may sound harsh and I'm sure my work-life balance would not work for everyone. Nor do I think it will necessarily work for me for the next 20 years. But for now, working hard and playing hard (with Miss T on my days off) is an approach that works for me.
When I'm at work, I'm totally at work. Hours can whizz by with no thoughts of lost shoes, the school run or bedtime battles popping into my head. Of course, this is only possible because I know she's 100 per cent safe and happy with Mark, my parents, or our chidminder and I'm incredibly grateful for all of them for allowing me to concentrate on work.
But when I'm at home, and Tasha is awake, I'm totally at home. Since signing the contract for my new role, meaning I could give up most of my freelance commitments, I don't let work intrude on my days off and I try to give her my full attention, which means we have had some lovely days together.
It also means that there are few evenings out with Mark and weekends away are a rare luxury. Actually, not a luxury - almost a trial. I don't want time away from her. I want to spend time with her.
How bizarre it feels to be writing those words, on this blog!

Something to share...

2009-11-01T11:37:00.000-08:00

Here's a little something I wrote for elsewhere that I thought some of you might like to read. Some of you, I fear, will be horrified....
I was prompted to share it after another puddle-splashing session by Miss T that ended with her sitting in the aforementioned puddle. Thank goodness for the ever-present emergency spare clothes!

WE'VE had swine flu - not literally in my case - so the latest headline-grabbing health scare seems to be E-coli.
Of course it is a serious illness and the tales of toddlers with organ failure are enough to strike terror into the hearts of parents everywhere, but the hysteria does seem to me to be another symptom of the germ-phobia sweeping this country.
While I don't encourage my own small daughter to eat her lunch in the toilet or to ignore basic hygiene, I also don't disinfect her toys or insist she washes her hands every time she strokes one of our two hairy hounds.
I'm sure there are some people reading that with a shudder and a squirt of anti-bacterial hand spray, but I don't want her life to be restricted by fears that are blown out of all proportion.
It's impossible to visit a farm now without dire warnings about risks to your health, and the handwashing police lurk by every pen.
When we stopped at a motorway service station last week I was astounded to discover people are now encouraged to disinfect toilet seats before using them - and before using the "wave to activate" no-contact flush system to ensure there is absolutely no chance of touching anything yukky. Apart from on the door handles and locks, of course...but there's always a wad of toilet roll and that ever-present anti-bacterial hand rub...
In our house, the 10-second rule is still in force: drop a piece of food or cutlery on the floor and as long as it's been there less than 10 seconds it's fine to pick up.
And when we go to the park or the beach we pick up all sorts of treasures to bring home without a moment's thought about all the nasties that could be lurking on them.
My sisters and I grew up literally eating mud pies (and worms, and drinking strange concoctions made using chalk and water) and survived to adulthood without any major episodes of illness.
And we had a lot of fun along the way, unlike the children I see who find their playtimes interupted every few minutes for a spray of this or a squirt of that to keep them squeaky clean.
Children get dirty; it's a fact of life and another of those quickly-discovered parental lessons.
But clothes can be washed, babies are bathed and it's amazing what you can achieve with hot water and soap.
So we'll keep on stroking animals, playing on the floor and creating masterpieces from mud and I hope my daughter will remember a childhood of fun instead of fear.

Guess what? A new post!

2009-10-24T07:27:00.000-07:00

Don't all fall off your chairs, but I'm back!
As usual, life has got in the way of blogging and as usual I've sat down to do this many times but never quite made it.
This time I'm determined!
You'll be glad to know there are no disasters or traumas to report - of course I would have been here before if there were.
I had a "review session" with my life-saving therapist a while ago and that prompted me to thinking about a review on here.
I'm not ashamed to say I'm still 'in therapy', albeit only every six months or so. I think it's healthy to recognise that I still need some support. It's probably more about exernal validation and my need for that is a part of my character that I have come to accept. I don't believe things are good until someone else tells me!
But it's also great to have an hour just to talk about everything and just to think about me. Not about aged dogs, cranky cats or troublesome two year olds.
Which brings me to Miss T, who is of course not actually that troublesome. She's fantastic. She's loving preschool, despite my well-documented fears, has mastered toilet-training (pretty much) and is learning and growing every day. Best of all she now has moments where she'll play happily by herself while I wash up or cook dinner or - shock horror - read a magazine!
What else?
Well, I have a permanent job! It's similar but different to my old job, a bit of a promotion, a lot more fun. And it means less stress about income and bills, if a bit more about other things. The hours are longer than I'd like but it's four days a week so I try to make sure my Tasha days are truly dedicated to her. No more skulking upstairs on the computer while she and her daddy play downstairs or go out.
Other stuff?
Not much. Life goes on, there are ups and downs, trials and tribulations. But we are a strong family unit and I love nothing more than when we are all at home together, snuggled up on the sofa reading a book or - shock horror part two - watching TV!
See? I can admit to less-than-perfection...there was a time when I would have insisted Tasha not watched TV and instead organised an educational activity. But actually, she needs chill out time too and when we watch it together and talk about what we see, or if it gives us ideas about craft activities or teaches us new songs then there's nothing wrong with that.
But do you know what? I don't care if anyone disagrees with that. It works for us and that's the main thing.
That's about all there is to report - as usual I'll end with a vow to try and update more regularly, but who knows if I'll keep it? If you check back and are disappointed at the lack of waffle or ranting, just know it means my life is crisis-free!

Fun in the sun...

2009-07-05T08:51:00.000-07:00

It's been ages again, so I thought I'd try to make up for it with this pic of Miss T in her favourite place...

So where were we?

Oh yes...preschool...well, there were tears but we survived, of course. I think she actually quite enjoyed it and she says she's looking forward to going again this week. Can't say I'm looking forward to the drop-off but we'll both survive.

In other news, just for a change, work is madly busy but I'm loving it. I can't actually remember the last time I've felt so happy. Maybe it's because I'm in control of my life, working for myself, doing what I love. Maybe it's because I've devised a beautiful colour-coded schedule that (theoretically, when I'm not doing holiday cover or taking on extra work) gives me time off as well as time at work. Maybe it's because I'm proving to all those who doubted that I can be successful outside of the traditional office environment and there is life after redundancy. Maybe it's just because the sun is shining. I don't really care.

I would like more time with the smily little girl pictured here. But I also have to take the work while it's there, for all sorts of reasons. And thanks to the beautiful weather and our beautiful hometown, we can still have beach time after a day at the office.

So that's us - on the beach, in the office, at preschool...but happy!

Growing up!

2009-06-23T11:05:00.000-07:00

Miss T starts preschool this week. I can't quite believe it.
Well, maybe starts is a bit much - she has the first taster session before her official start in September. But it feels as significant as if I were packing her off, lunchbox and books in hand.
It's a very odd feeling and as usual there are all sorts of conflicting parts.
I'm torn between thinking it's vital she gets off to a good start as school is such a key part of life, and believing that actually, she's still so little that whatever happens this week, and in September, doesn't actually matter.
It doesn't help that she is still not a fan of being left and the childminder suggested this might prove to be an issue at preschool.
We have warned them, but I'm not sure they are fully prepared for a proper Miss T strop-fest...
Filling in the paperwork was also an interesting experience - I felt strangely outraged that they believed I could condense everything that was special and noteworthy about my child into three A4 pieces of paper!
At the moment, the pupil herself seems wholly underwhelmed by the idea. I've told her she will be going to school on Thursday, and it will be lots of fun, and she usually replies: "Mummy's coming?"
I tell her Mummy will take her but can't stay although I won't be long, and she just carries on with whatever she was doing.
I'm trying to portray it in a positive light for her, and for the reasons I touched upon earlier. Education is such an important thing for me that I want her to find her first experience fun and for it to instill in her a lifelong love of the classroom and learning. Maybe I'm being unrealistic!
But I'm also struggling with the fact that she still seems so small and I'm worried about how she will cope.
Will she be the only one still in nappies? (hopefully not still in them by September....) Will she be the only one crying? Shall I let her take her bunny and her dummy, both only used for sleeping or when she's ill (or being left at the childminder's on a bad day!)? Will she be the only one who still has a dummy? (I stress, only for sleeping...)
I'm sure she'll have fun, once she gets used to it (next year maybe?), but I can't help wishing we could just fast forward to that point. Wish us luck!

thoughts

2009-06-14T06:25:00.000-07:00

I had a bit of a significant moment last night.
I accepted I am not and never will be a perfect parent.
It may not sound like much, but it's a massive achievement for me as perfection has been a theme of my life for as long as I can remember.
I also accepted that actually, I'm not doing so bad.
But it's sad that again it took someone else's (perceived) poor parenting to allow me to realise my own strengths.
I won't go into details, partly because I still find it so sad, but it's another case of people who can't accept that a child changes your life. You make a decision to have them, whether they were planned or not, and it's your responsibility to live with that decision and its consequences.
In the same way as when Miss T chooses to ignore warnings about teasing the dog and ends up losing a brick from her jar, if you choose to bring up a child you live with the fact that things will never be the same again.
In my opinion, this means Saturdays spent shopping are off the agenda for a good few years, nights down the pub are a rarity and only possible when babysitters are available, and holidays mean family time rather than the previous heady mix of alcohol, culture and shopping.
Not everyone shares my opinion, and that's fine, but I'm glad I can say I put my child first.
In other news, I'm still working on that elusive skill of keeping my mouth shut but sometimes I feel it's important to speak out.
There was a good example of that this week when I overheard a comment from someone who couldn't understand why a 26-year-old with clinical depression would want to commit suicide. They were using the classic argument that he had everything to live for and many people are much worse off. Both statements may be true, but I tried to put forward to viewpoint that he wouldn't be able to realise that and it wasn't as simple as snapping out of it. I'm not sure I got through, but at least I tried...

I'm back! With apologies and an update...

2009-06-10T13:59:00.000-07:00

Hello!
And so sorry for lack of posts. I've sat down to do it so many times but then something else has got in the way, be it small child, hairy animal or work.
As usual, the lack of posts is actually a good sign - I know if there had been burning issues swelling around my head I would have made time to let them out here.
Of course there have been difficult times but there have also been positive times in the month since I last updated you all. I really can't believe it's been so long!
So where were we?
The nightmare playgroup visit...well, of course we went back but we also tried another one which I much prefer. It's a lot friendlier, a lot less cliquey and feels a lot less judgemental. Plus there are more children and a lot more room which means it's more fun for Miss T, who has started asking to go.
We've started a new "behaviour shaping" method where she earns bricks in a jar for being good and loses them for bad behaviour. When she has enough she earns a fun treat, and so far it's working well. She hates the idea of losing bricks and loves the treats so it's a great motivator and better than the naughty step, which was losing its impact.
I'm enjoying my time with her a lot more than I ever thought possible, and I'm realising - finally - that these days will never return.
In fact, as the work situation improves slightly (I have picked up some regular freelance shifts which provide much-needed income), I find myself yearning for those lazy days of painting, park and playing. We'd both got used to the idea of chilling out and getting ready in our own time so the first morning we had to be out of the house by 8am was a bit of a shock!
Of course, I'm loving being back in a newsroom. It's what I do, it's who I am. As much as I've enjoyed being a stay at home parent, I can't deny my need to write. Part of me is a bit sad that it's meant I have eased off on other plans but I have to be realistic and work with the opportunites that present themselves. There's no need to do everything at once, as a good friend of mine would say!
However I do have some concerns, especially in the light of my renewed positive mental health. I'm very much an all-or-nothing person, in work and in other areas, and I am finding it hard not to get sucked back in to the all-hours culture of a newsroom. There have already been some signs, like attending evening jobs which I'm not technically paid for, and working late. It's easy to put these down to doing a good job, especially as I've very grateful to my new colleagues for giving me the opportunity to use my skills and earn more money. But I'm trying hard to remember to say no, and make decisions with my family in mind as well as my work.
That's about it for now, and sorry it's a bit vague but at least it's a sign things are going well, I think...I'll try to be back within a month this time!

Control...or a lack of...

2009-05-11T09:40:00.000-07:00

I'm not really sure where to start.
And I'm not really sure whether this will be a "yay" or "boo" post. Maybe I'll leave that up to you to decide...
So on Monday Miss T and I decided to try a new toddler group.
It didn't go well, for either of us.
For her, it was a new place, with lots of new people, and on a morning when she was feeling a bit under the weather.
This manifested itself firstly in clinginess ("You come mummy" whenever she moved to a different activity) and then in bad behaviour (I almost wrote naughtiness but we all know we're not allowed to say that...). She snatched toys from the youngest child there and then when told to give them back, threw them across the room.
I responded as I would anywhere else - with a warning, followed by a spell on the hastily-introduced 'naughty chair'.
But I think that's where the positive aspects of this experience end.
I'm not sure what I was expecting from the morning but I found the actual reality quite stressful and frustrating. Every other child seemed to be behaving beautifully, every other child sat down nicely for drink and biscuit time while mine whinged and ran off and every other mum was able to chat and enjoy themselves.
As I'm sure you've noticed by now, when I get stressed or frustrated I get emotional and I'm afraid - and embarrassed - to admit that tears were soon on their way and I felt a complete failure on all levels.
A complete meltdown followed, for me and her, and it wasn't much fun.
Nor was the conversation afterwards with a fellow mum, who I'm sure meant well, but said I was letting Miss T control me because I went with her when she asked. I let it go at the time - I wasn't in a fit state to do anything else! - but it's another of those points I've been mulling over ever since.
I'm not sure that it is a control thing. I see it more as support and reassurance for a little girl who's still learning about the world and her place in it, and who is only just learning that she is a separate person to her parents.
I see it as my role to provide comfort when it's needed rather than to question the validity of the request for my input.
I don't dispute that other children are more confident than my own, or that this is partly due to my parenting and the choices I have made.
But I'm not comfortable being the kind of parent who just shoos their child away when they ask for support.
We will be going back to the group because I feel it's exposure she needs to prepare her for preschool and school.
But I'm hoping next time will be less of a drama...
So...is that a positive or a negative?!

Phew!

2009-05-08T13:47:00.000-07:00

So we survived, naturally. And it's another of those situations where I'm not that sure why I was so worried.
We scrubbed the house from top to bottom, although I did resist coaching Miss T and am very proud of myself for that.
It did feel like an impending inspection of parenthood rather than a routine check and opportunity to ask advice from a health professional, and if I'm honest, I feared my parenting skills were about to be found lacking.
That fear was not allayed when Miss T decided to spend the morning in a rare grumpy mood where nothing was right and there was much pouting and foot-stamping.
But the sun came out when the health visitor arrived (not literally, sadly - my hairy hound from hell, who had to be shut in the garden while she crossed the threshold before being brought in for a proper introduction, ended up all soggy and forlorn) and she amazed me with her confidence and inclination to be sociable.
The checks themselves were ridiculously easy for her and she demonstrated a range of things that weren't being checked, like imaginative play (making mummy be a dog and leading me round on the aforementioned hound's lead), language development (talking constantly!) and kindness (giving said hound a cuddle when she accidentally stood on his foot).
And as a result, the official verdict is "excellent communication and development" and "very sociable" with "no concerns".
I can't describe how proud that makes me, which is actually a strange feeling. Not for the obvious reasons, including the fact that our once non-existent bond is now so strong, but because it is coupled with a sort of dread of the future.
I'm desperate not to heap the kind of pressure on her to be perfect that I experienced but am already slipping into dangerous territory - who knows how I would have reacted if the conclusionss had not been so overwhelmingly positive today?
But as usual, the positive of this situation is that I'm aware of it and will try to keep myself in check. Because if I can't, god help us all when it's time for her GCSEs!

Oh dear...

2009-05-06T14:05:00.000-07:00

Don't let the title fool you - there has been no crisis and in fact this is a very rare self-aware post...I hope!
Miss T has her two to three year developmental check on Friday and it's something that has had a strange effect on me.
When the health visitor rang to make the appointment, my first instinct after putting down the phone was to Google the check to find out what it involved.
I have so far resisted.
Which is a good thing. Because I wasn't going to Google for my own interest, I planned to then tutor my two-year-old to make sure she "passed".
Luckily, I recognised this as a completely ridiculous response. According to a parent friend of mine, "everyone" has tutors now for the 11+ (which is an archaic Kent test to stream people for grammar schools if you're not from round here!) and loads of people also have tutors for SATS but for two year olds? Really??? Even I could tell that would be a bit over the top.
However, it's not all good news. I have resisted the Googling, and resisted the tutoring, but I can't shake the feeling that if she fails (which she can't - it's not a pass/fail situation!) then I'm a BAD PARENT.
And I have had a few sneaky conversations with people who have told me some of what it involves, and I'm fairly confident she'll be fine, but even if she's not that should be fine. If that makes sense. Sorry if it doesn't - it's been a long day!
My point is - why can't I just accept her as she is? Why is there this constant quest for perfection? If I'm this bad now, what will I be like at SATs time? Or the 11+? And let's not even think about GCSEs and beyond! (although please note how I phrased that - deliberately leaving out the assumption that she'll stay on for sixth form and then go to a top university before becoming prime minister...)
Oh dear.
There's not really much else to say, is there? But of course I'll let you know how she gets on - I wonder if there'll be a score? I wonder how to find out what the highest score ever achieved is??? ; )

What would it take to make you believe you're a good mum?

2009-04-21T12:52:00.000-07:00

That's the question a friend asked me the other day.
And it's a good one.
My immediate answer was that I won't believe it until Miss T is an adult, or at least almost adult and I can see what sort of person she is; and how messed up, or not, she is.
That was the wrong answer, apparently!
And as I'm home (in a caravan!) alone with a sleeping child, now seems as good a time as any to consider alternative answers.
Of course, when I think about it, I can recognise some positive signs already. Tasha is very gentle, mostly, better than a lot of other children her age at saying please and thank you, is confident, funny and clever. In fact, she's very clever!
But how much of that is down to me, really? And surely there's more to being a good mum than having a well-mannered child? After all, we are not living in Victorian times...
There are other aspects - we do a LOT together (not always through choice, I confess!) so our days are very stimulating and educational, which must be a mark of good parenting? Maybe not...I mean, obviously there's more to it than that but at least we don't spend every day at home in front of the television.
Her speech and communication is fantastic and today she even wrote an N and told me she'd written Natasha - aged two and four months! But that's just intelligence again and that's probably genetic anyway. Or maybe it's not even that fantastic and I'm just being an annoying proud parent...
How about the fact that I care desperately about what her life is like, now and in the future and strive to do my best to make it as good as possible? Note how I wrote "strive to do my best"...maybe that's a mark of a bad mum? I know I don't always do my best - some days it's just too hard.
Or that I care about what she eats and what she does? But that's just normal, not anything special.
I honestly have no idea how to answer that question beyond my initial, wrong, answer. Anyone else got suggestions? How do you quantify good parenting? Help!

A calm week?

2009-04-20T13:42:00.000-07:00

So it's been a week without posting.
And while that may be dull for you lot, it does, in general, mean that things have calmed down here. I haven't felt that burning urge to get everything out here before I explode.
Of course that doesn't mean we have been existing in a pink and fluffy world all week, sadly. There have been tears and tantrums, but luckily only from the toddler and I have been able to deal with them in a calm and consistent manner, mostly.
It is hard work, it's such hard work that it's difficult to explain to anyone who doesn't share their house with a wilful and intelligent toddler. You simply can't have a lazy day where you let things slide because the results are hellish for days. You have to keep on top of the behaviour, ideally in a calm and consistent fashion, with warnings and choices and consequences. It's exhausting.
We're on holiday at the moment, and while it's fantastic to be exploring a place as beautiful as where we are staying, it's bittersweet for me because there's not much change from my life at home.
Mark has a week without work to look forward to, but mine has come with me - although only for today, hopefully. And my day to day life at home involves much the same as days on holiday so it's hard to see it as a break.
However it is lovely to be able to share family time together so enough of the moans. As well as keeping on top of toddler tantrums (and I'm not sure I can really call her a toddler any more!), we're having some great conversations and this has been the first holiday where she has really understood what is going on and has been excited about it, which is fantastic. I am actually looking forward to some of the activities we have planned together, rather than thinking of ways to escape and plan time for myself, which is a huge achievement for me.
There's not really anything else to say at the moment so I hope this short update will suffice for now. Fear not, if another crisis looms, you will most definitely hear about it!

An end to the catastrophising?

2009-04-10T12:17:00.000-07:00

But another excuse to use that word!
So we survived our afternoon, mostly. The chores were completed, the plants were planted and there was another witching hour strop but without the shouting from me this time.
I'm almost glad she had another meltdown moment because although it was, as it usually is, difficult to deal with, at least it showed I could deal with it without heading for the hills.
Since then, things have returned to a calmer state (on my part, at least - she is definitely demonstrating her two-year-old frustrations and opinions!), perhaps because Mark took a day off and is not back at work until Tuesday.
I am trying to remind myself of an important lesson that I had forgotten, that of picking your battles. It does help when I find myself saying no for the 50th time in a day...
And, it has to be said, I do feel a bit foolish for my over-reaction, or indeed, catastrophising, of the shouting incident. But that's how I felt at the time and I have little control over that, as I think I demonstrated!
Another companion of that good old black dog seems to be neediness - whenever he is around and the fog descends I need reassurance, and I need it quickly! I have been known to post on internet forums and then sit there refreshing and refreshing the page waiting for someone to reply. And if they don't within, oh, about five minutes, I have even posted again, reiterating whatever crisis I am having.
I'm not proud of it, I'm not proud of any of it, but I do accept it and I hope that helps in dealing with it.
Oh well, at least this latest episode has ensured a return to the central theme of this blog, which I hope will hope any new readers who may have wondered why they were here.
But for my sake, I hope the calm stretch lasts a bit so I can return to fluffier blogging!

catastrophising, part two...

2009-04-08T05:26:00.000-07:00

I love that word, catastrophising. And I can recognise it as what yesterday was about. It doesn't make it any better, of course, and I still wish it hadn't happened.
But today I can accept that it did, and that the sun is still shining today.
Of course, Miss T woke up her usual happy self, there were no dramatic "I hate mummy because she shouted" declarations, and I got my usual morning cuddle. Time will tell if there are any lasting effects but for the moment, we're moving on.
Which means that today continues as normal - and as of 15 minutes ago, I'm alone with her again until bedtime. Unless you count my five furry chaperones...
That does make me nervous, I have to confess. Today started badly for me, despite Miss T's attentions. It was one of those mornings where I knew I had to get up and face the world but I couldn't find it in me to do it.
That doesn't mean I just wanted an extra hour in bed, although that was a welcome benefit.
It means my head was saying, 'get up, get ready, you'll achieve so much' but my heart was stubbornly refusing.
All I could focus on was the catastrophising (I'm going to use that word as much as I can because it makes me smile!) of the previous day and the insistence that Miss T would have a better morning without me there. In fact, everyone would have a better morning without me there.
This is the part I hate most about the black fog of depression. It's all very well being aware of it, having coping strategies and of course fantastic friends, and thanks to all who responded yesterday, but when it descends like that I am literally powerless against it. I know I'm being irrational, just like yesterday I knew I was being unreasonable. But I don't know how to switch it off, or to switch the light on and banish the darkness.
Maybe that's just an excuse. I know it sounds like one and I'm sure that's what many of you are thinking.
So you'll be relieved to hear I am pulling myself together and I have plenty planned for this afternoon, including planting in the garden and errands in town.
Whether that will be enough to keep the fog at bay and the toddler amused remains to be seen.
All I can do is hope - and sometimes I can't even do that.

Spoke too soon?

2009-04-07T11:14:00.000-07:00

Oh dear. It was all going so well, but today that run of positivity spectactularly ended.
I turned into one of those people I totally despise and lost my temper with my beautiful, clever, funny little girl.
It wasn't even her fault - she was ridiculously tired after a late night yesterday and has conjunctivitis so is feeling a bit miserable and as a result spent most of the afternoon moaning.
Couple that with the headache from hell for me, no paracetemol in the house and a bout of intense nausea and you have a recipe for disaster.
I knew what was coming, and did attempt to avoid the situation by arranging for backup but Mark was at work and couldn't get away and my parents were shopping. Which is fair enough, on both counts.
It was the first time in months and months that I've felt that I shouldn't be alone with her, and I wish now that I'd tried harder to find an alternative by contacting friends or just getting out of the house.
But there's no point looking at the ifs and shoulds. It won't change anything. I just have to try to learn from the experience and move on.
Reading that back, it all sounds terribly dramatic and actually I'm sure it's something that happens in a lot of houses every day. I didn't batter her over the head with the book I'd just had to read for the 15th time, I didn't strangle her with the cat's tail she'd just been pulling. I just shouted at her.
But I really shouted at her. Proper, grown-up out of control shouting. Not a sustained bout of abuse, just a sentence. But that doesn't excuse it or justify it. There is no justification, in my eyes, for what I did.
I'm not sure I, or she, will ever forget it and the look on her face will certainly stay with me for a while. It's definitely not something I want to repeat. But of course that's obvious.
I'm desperately trying to be a positive, loving, patient parent and of course I shout at her sometimes if she misbehaves (although to be honest, mostly I just use strict voice coupled with a warning about a consequence). But routine discipline, and behaviour shaping, is a world apart from losing control and bellowing at her to be quiet. And she knows that as well as I do.
The whole situation has brought back so many uncomfortable feelings for me that I wonder if actually I was doing as well as I thought.
Maybe I am just not cut out for this at all. There was a moment, after I'd apologised to her, explained I felt poorly and had a headache, and was tired and therefore got grumpy, just like she does, and she refused to give me a hug, that I just felt she would be better off without me.
It sounds ridiculous now but I was close to calling Mark and telling him to come home because I had to leave because I couldn't be near her.
I realise that is a huge overreaction but it feels like such a setback for me that I can't help it.
And of course now many other incidents from the last week or so are coming back with a fresh context, including a conversaton I had with someone who asked me how I was finding motherhood.
When I said it was okay, he was clearly shocked and I knew I had given the wrong answer. The correct one would have been a gushing monologue about feeling fulfilled and enjoying every second.
But I don't think that will ever be true for me, and now I'm wondering if my best, and the compromise we have reached, is actually good enough for anyone.
I'm hoping things look better in the morning.

Re-evaluating?

2009-04-04T14:18:00.000-07:00

I'm in a bit of a quandary today, and I shouldn't be. It's all very odd. But I expect you are used to that by now.
So this afternoon we popped out to buy some laminate flooring - it's my first big purchase using my redundancy money (although at £160 it's not exactly massive!) and we decided to go ahead with it despite the potential lack of future paycheques simply because the carpet downstairs is getting too awful to live with.
This is important, honest...bear with me!
So after paying for the flooring I decided to pick up a free newspaper on my way out of the shop. No real reason other than I hadn't read a copy of it for a while, and I'll read anything!
We then went off out and about and I've only just managed to read it. And noticed that they are advertising for freelance and contract journalists. And wasn't as excited by that as I thought I would have been.
On the surface it looks perfect - a freelance position should, in theory, give me the flexibility I need, and it's the profession I've dreamed of, trained for and dedicated my life so far to.
So why am I not already composing my application?
I'm not really sure. Maybe because the state of the industry makes me nervous still. Maybe because a return to the stress of a newsroom dooesn't seem that great after a few months out of it. Maybe because I'm enjoying all the other bits and pieces I'm doing.
I've thought and thought and worried and thought about what to do and have decided to go with the flow for a bit. Maybe the advert was the reason I was meant to pick up that edition of that paper today. So I'll respect those signals from the universe and sent off my CV, and if it's meant to be, then it's meant to be. But if it's not then so be it and I'll continue with everything else I'm doing. Maybe I can even do both - and conquer the world at the same time! I'll let you know...

oooohhh adverts!

2009-03-31T09:44:00.000-07:00

Or, Google will make me rich...
Well, it's one of my master plans, anyway!
Don't worry though, there are still a few others. But if you do fancy clicking on any of these ads and helping me pay the mortgage that would be fantastic. After all, we all know you can make millions while you sleep...can't you?!
In other news, there's still an air of sadness around things at the moment, perhaps not unreasonably. My dog walk this morning felt muted, and after spending the day housesitting for my friends while they were at their son's funeral I'm obviously not in cheerful mood.
I think the saddest part of the day was seeing the blank mother's day card he had bought for his mum, only to die two days before he could give it to her.
Or perhaps learning that the lasagne I'd made as a gesture was in fact his favourite meal so they were unlikely to enjoy it. I can't imagine how hard it must be to have everything in your life tinged with sadness like that from now on.
But I still have Miss T, and of course Mark, and we're doing okay. In fact, we've got a lot to be thankful for.
Of course, there's still a lot I can get worked up about, this is me, after all! Today's rant was about a random blog post I came across (did I mention I'm addicted to reading random blogs?!).
The author proclaimed, very seriously, that she was "depressed" after a frustrating week of unpacking with three kids around.
Having read a few of her other blog posts I wouldn't be surprised if depression is on the cards for her somewhere, but I can't accept that it is what she is experiencing at the moment.
But then again, who am I to know?
Right - enough rambling! I'm off out tonight to tell people how well my community website is doing (very well, by all accounts - 128 visitors and 357 page views, and it's been officially launched less than a week!) so must go get ready.
Don't forget to click on the ads! Or commission me to make a community website...or write your lfie story...x

Lessons

2009-03-29T12:01:00.000-07:00

I'm learning some interesting lessons lately.
Of course, the first is that life is too short. And precious. Miss T has been poorly and although it was highly unpleasant, as winter vomiting virus usually is, it was never really serious.
But that didn't stop Mark and I worrying, and checking on her more than we needed to. I've learnt it can all end so suddenly, and I don't think that knowledge will ever really go.
I've also learnt that sometimes I don't want what I think I do. I'm sure that makes no sense, and I apologise - despite my best efforts at disinfecting etc Miss T seems to have shared her germs with me so I'm not on top form. But am I ever?
Anyway, that last lesson is job related. I missed out on a job that I thought was mine, and that I thought I desperately wanted. But after a wise friend questioned whether I did actually want it, I realised I probably didn't. I wanted it because it was a job, and because of all that represents, eg a regular income etc, and because it seemed it was so nearly within my reach.
But the job itself wasn't ideal, with hardly any opportunity for writing, and with colleagues who I know would have ended up making the position a nightmare.
So I can now accept it wasn't meant to be, and keep looking for something that is. Whatever that may be.
I've learnt that I still want to rescue people, and I can't bear people feeling sad or stressed, but I'm learning that I can't always fix it. Sometimes people have to help themselves first. And all I can do is be there to offer support, not to put the pieces back together for them.
I'm learning to say no as well, but that lesson could take a while!

Now I get it...

2009-03-23T06:47:00.000-07:00

....when people say things like "Cheer up, it could be worse...."
Because I've had an insight into how terrible things can be, and I don't like it.
And I'm definitely grateful for what I have.
I'm grateful I could spend mother's day with my child (or at least part of it - we did disappear for the weekend, but that's another story!)
I'm grateful that the next thing I have to organise is a birthday party, not a funeral.
I'm even grateful that I just had to go upstairs and stop writing this entry, because it means my child is safe and well at home.
Sadly one of my friends cannot say the same about his son, who died suddenly on Friday aged just 16.
One day they were excited about a family holiday to America and arguing about spending money, then a few days later he was dead.
I don't understand how that can be. How can someone so fit and so popular be gone? How is his mother supposed to ever celebrate mother's day again? How is his sister supposed to adjust to life as an only child when her whole life has been spent as a sibling?
He will never get married, have children, have a career. He won't travel the world, buy a house, or go to uni. He won't grow old. How? Why?
I don't know any of the answers. But I do know that if I have learnt anything from this whole horrible tragedy, it's that life is too short. Who cares about whether you're a perfect parent, or someone else's child can identify a circle and a square? Who cares if Miss T is not ready for potty training while my friend's children are?
I don't.
But I do care that I still have her, she still has me and we can enjoy our time together.
Because I don't know how long it will last.

Negativity

2009-03-15T12:16:00.000-07:00

...but not mine!
Since adapting my new, fluffy, mindset, partly due to changes in my circumstances and partly due to real recovery from PND hell being in sight, I have no time for negativity.
Of course sometimes I have days which are difficult, but in general I like to think I am a more positive person.
And that makes me rather intolerant of negative people. Not unsympathetic to those who are in genuine need, as I think I have mentioned before, but impatient with those who seem determined to see the worst in others and dwell on nastiness.
That's what prompted me to do this blog post, less than a week after the last one, you lucky people. I've been witness to some real bitterness lately, from people who would do better to just let things go and move on.
And I've also seen people who seem determined to try to poke fun at other's misfortune, and in some cases, tragedy.
Of course, I could ignore this, and generally I do - it's easy just to delete an email or Facebook message, and to click away from people who have so little faith in themselves they make others look small thinking it makes them look big.
But today I just wanted to get this out here, to avoid it erupting somewhere else and creating negativity in my life.
So now I have. I don't feel much better, but I will continue to maintain my pink and fluffy air and remember that those who indulge in such bitchiness say more about themselves than the target of their venom.

Updated update

2009-03-11T15:04:00.000-07:00

It seems there is some unrest among some of my most loyal readers about the lack of updates here, despite my carefully crafted explanations about limited computer time and pressures of work.
So to satisfy those grumblers, here is an update.
And it's a strange one. I started writing this thinking there was hardly any point because everything was rosy and I had no news to report, but I'm not sure that's entirely true.
Work is busy, which is fantastic, but I don't seem to be making much money from it, which is less so.
I've applied for yet another job, but I'm really not sure I want it because it would mean a return to the office politics that I was so pleased to get out of, but equally it would be a fantastic opportunity and an exciting challenge, if I can get past the politics!
There has been more doom and gloom from my previous employer, which makes me feel vindicated in my decision to get out when I did but sad for my former colleagues.
And more of my former colleagues who left with me have found other employment, which brings up those old feelings of jealousy and bitterness. I know I'm lucky to be doing what I'm doing, and it is exciting and fun, but it's also a real hard slog. And a bit lonely in the office! And there is no one else to share the load with, to call a favour in with, or to field the phones for a bit.
Outside of work (not sure that's actually possible these days - everything is work!), Miss T and I are doing okay. As long as I get time to work - there it is again! - I can enjoy my time with her, but I have so much to do that if it doesn't go to plan, eg she won't sleep when I need her to or I haven't got childcare arrangements sorted for the week, I find myself easily stressed out.
I've also noticed a change in me that I'm not particularly happy about, although others may disagree.
I've always been proud to say I'm a good friend, and I'm always there for people. But lately, I'm not. I just can't keep myself going and be strong for everyone else. I'm painfully aware that my new positive outlook is fragile, to say the least, and I fear that too much negativity will cause it to shatter around me.
Maybe that's irrational. Maybe it's not a bad thing, because it's forcing me to think about my own needs instead of distracting myself with others. But I can't help feeling I'm letting people down.
If I see, for example, a Facebook post that screams "I need someone to talk to", although it may not actually say that in so many words, I find it very hard not to respond with the offer of a coffee.
Of course, they have many other friends who could make that same offer, and probably do, but it's a role I have traditionally cast myself in and if I'm not the supportive, listening ear, then who am I?
Well there's a deep question for you all - and it's late and I'm tired and I have not one, not two, but three meetings tomorrow, starting at 7am, so I'll leave you all to ponder it.

Spring is in the air...

2009-03-02T04:49:00.000-08:00

....and that should gladden the heart, but it doesn't, for some reason. Sigh.
Maybe it's because those evil weather people are already predicting that it won't last.
Maybe it's because I have a week ahead with not much on. That's not as much of a problem as it used to be, but it is still a daunting thought. Actually, it's more the thought of the energy I need to keep motivating myself to do things with Miss T instead of humphing around feeling sorry for myself that is daunting.
I'm afraid I was rather lacking in that energy this weekend. It should have been great, as I had my review with my lovely therapist on Saturday and as predicted, she was mightily impressed - although not surprised - with my progress and how I have dealt with things since we last met.
Then we had a lovely afternoon, with Miss T chosing some beautiful new hot pink shoes and a catch-up dinner with old friends.
But on Sunday we had to attend an event I had been dreading, a toddler's birthday party. Now, as I have a toddler of my own there is no reason why this should fill me with dread. And indeed, it wasn't really the toddlers who were the problem, but the parents.
Actually, to be completely frank, it wasn't even the parents, it was me. I felt judged and observed, just like the bad old days, and also like those days, people seemed to want to discuss nothing but their children. Which often included statements about how fulfilled they felt or how wonderful it was. And I lost count of how many times I was asked about having another one.
But of course, we survived, and all was fine. And the sun is shining, and we had a lovely time at playgym this morning. And I have one more hour of her sleep left so had best get on with some work!

A treat for you all!

2009-02-21T12:11:00.000-08:00

Some of you have complained this blog is a little text heavy.

Indeed it is.

So here is another pic of Miss T for you to admire - and one you don't have to crane your head to see!

Apologies again for the lack of update - the reasons in the last post still stand.

But as a special treat I'm sharing something here I was doing anyway.

It's one of those Facebook lists - sorry if, like my brother in law, you find them the most annoying thing ever.

Personally, I find most of them very revealing for a variety of reasons. The things people choose to share, the things they don't, the subjects they touch on.

So for what it's worth, here's mine. Some of them you'll already know, some of them you won't. Feel free to add your own, Facebook stylee!

25 random things about me

1) I'm addicted to spider solitaire and can play it for hours at a time, much to the annoyance of my husband. I like to play till I win, and that can take some time!

2) I'm also addicted to reading other people's blogs - friends of friends, random people I don't know.

3) I have a therapist and I think everyone would benefit from seeing one at least once.

4) I want to save the world. Not in any grand environmental way, I'm afraid, but on a personal level - I hate for people to be unhappy and always want to get involved in their problems, even if they don't want me to.

5) I'm not very good at accepting that you can only help those who want to be helped!

6) I'm terrible at keeping secrets. Not the big important ones, so don't worry if you've told me something, but things like surprise presents or good news.

7) I have practically no secrets of my own. In fact, I make a point of telling any new friends I get close to all my deepest darkest secrets. I figure that if they're not freaked out by what they hear then they're worth having as friends.

8) I hate when people hint at secrets or problems - like I just did, I guess!

9) I've always wanted to write, from as young as I can remember. In fact, one of my earliest memories is having a story on the story tree at infant school.

10) I thought I would be a poet or write books (in fact, I wrote one when I was about 13 but you wouldn't have wanted to read it!) until I did a week's work experience on a local newspaper when I was 15 and realised how much fun it was.

11) After weeks and months more work experience with that same paper, and others, I got my first paid job there straight out of university and was delighted to find it was still as much fun as I remembered. I never had that Monday morning feeling and would have done my job for nothing.

12) I thought I would be heartbroken to leave that job but actually it wasn't as bad as I feared. I guess the nice fat redundancy cheque helped a bit!

13) It is only in the last month or so that I have considered myself fully recovered from post natal depression, and my little girl is two and a bit. But I still have my therapist, even if it is only for reviews and as back up!

14) The thought of getting PND again terrifies me so much I'm still not sure if I will ever have another baby. I want another child, but not another baby.

15) I'm also terrified of having a boy!

16) I'd rather Miss T grew up to be kind and polite and gentle and loving than passed loads of exams and I think those qualities could get her further in life as well.

17) I failed my grade one piano exam and the experience traumatised me so much I never took another music exam.

18) I also failed my driving test twice but have passed every other test or exam I've ever taken after learning from an early age that being top of the class was the only place acceptable to my parents.

19) I had two honeymoons. Only one wedding though!

20) I was so anal about organising my wedding that the manager of the venue offered me a job as his wedding planner. I turned it down because I loved my job as a reporter but wish I'd taken him up on it...lists and folders galore!

21) I always preferred cats to dogs until I met my husband. When I was little I had a cat who was like a best friend to me and I told her everything. But he introduced me to dog ownership and they are much easier to train! If I tell them to go and lie down they will, but my cats will continue to bug me until I stroke them...

22) I was genuinely distressed when Miss T told me her granny's cat didn't like her and am now dreading her school days with best friends becoming ex-friends and all the bitchiness she will experience.

23) I still vividly remember the emotions from my school days, and most of them are not pleasant.

24) Apart from writing jobs, I've worked in a supermarket, playgroup and pubs and think everyone should work behind a bar. It's a great way to increase your confidence...oh, and find a husband!

25) I'm writing a book. See - that was supposed to be a secret but now it's out there! It will take me years to finish it though as paid work keeps getting in the way!

Just an update...

2009-02-11T13:26:00.000-08:00

It's been a while, and apologies for that. The simple fact is that my time on the computer is limited to when Miss T is asleep, or out (not by herself, obviously!), and as there are people paying me to do stuff that involves using it, that has to be the priority.
Sorry.
So where was I?
Ah yes - positive thinking! Well, it's still in place, which I find surprising. I was just thinking back over the last few weeks, working out what to write, and actually, we've had some really good times.
Of course, we've had some frustrating, tear-your-hair-out-count-to-50-and-put-the-kettle-on moments too, but what parent of a two-year-old doesn't?
I'm still enjoying the time I get to spend with Miss T, and almost feel a bit resentful that I have paid work to do which means we have to be apart.
Almost! Actually, I also really enjoy the time to work and to focus on new things, many of which are so different and challenging and exciting. Of course, there's still the transcription job from hell in the background but even that is progressing!
I know that part of the reason for my renewed enjoyment of parenthood is the changes in Miss T herself - we have some great conversations, and she is growing in independence by the day. That is not always a positive thing, especially not when it comes to getting dressed or attempting to do something with her hair, but it does mean she can amuse herself and play with her toys for a good 20 minutes or so, giving me a bit extra space in the day.
It does make me think though - maybe I'm just not a baby person? I've always enjoyed my goddaughters more the older they have got.
Oops - I'm starting to ramble now, and this was supposed to be a quick post!
Those of you who remember my long-winded debate about whether or not I needed to see my lovely therapist again may be interested to know she got in touch to say she could not remember if we had agreed to have a review about now. So continuing with my new 'going with the flow' thinking, I've arranged one. At the risk of sounding all mumbojumboistic again, I can't help feeling there was a reason she got in touch (beyond wondering if we were supposed to have a review!) and it would be churlish of me to ignore it.
But maybe I'm just mad!

The universe and me...

2009-01-28T14:01:00.000-08:00

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!

Dilemma...but a good one?

2009-01-27T07:27:00.000-08:00

So I'm confused. And while I hate that - of course I do, the very state of mind indicates a lack of control! - I can see that actually there are positives to be had, as usual.
I was going to offer this particular dilemma up here as a sort of poll, but I think actually the decision has been made. But any further input would be welcomed, even if it's to tell me I'm mad (although I already know that!).
Right. Let's get to it.
So I'm still job-hunting. Although I admit to doing so with less gusto than a few months ago as I start to focus instead on myself as a business and the freelance work I have been getting, plus other similar opportunities in the future.
And this week I somehow found myself with three interviews lined up - all of which have come to me, rather than me applying via any formal process.
I had the first one yesterday, one is tomorrow and one on Thursday. If I'm honest, the one on Thursday would always have been my first choice - it's reasonably local, hours to suit and would allow me to use my writing skills while developing new ones.
But the first company I saw have already offered me the position. And I think I'm going to turn them down.
Not just because I like the sound of the Thursday job more, or even because I think I stand more chance of getting either of the other two.
Not even because it's further away than the other two so means more travelling and more money in petrol.
I'm going to turn it down - even in this economic climate - because they want me to work full time and won't consider anything less.
Does that make me mad?
Three years ago, probably even a year ago, and probably five years from now I would say yes in a flash.
But now I want to spend time with my little girl before she is not so little.
I never thought I would be even considering turning down work - and paid work at that - in favour of spending time with the child I used to refer to as "that baby". Work was my escape, my focus, my reason for carrying on.
But as I continue to adjust to this with-child life, and continue to learn to enjoy it, I realise that actually that won't work for me any more.
In fact, a full time job, 45 minutes from home, would probably have more negative effects on my precious little family than no job at all.
Just the thought of the mountains of housework to do in evenings and at weekends, the friends to squeeze in or lose touch with, the activities we'll miss makes me feel like a failure so the reality would definitely stress me out.
Because of this economic climate I will wait until after the other interviews before making my final final decision, because after all any job at this point in time is better than no job. Probably. Maybe.
Who knows?!

Negativity

2009-01-21T02:47:00.000-08:00

Don't worry - not mine! I am still floating around in a fluffy cloud of positive affirmations and happy thoughts...mostly.
But maybe because that is my default state of mind at the moment...mostly...I find it really hard to deal with other people's negativity. I just don't understand it. Maybe negativity is the wrong word - I more than most can understand a black mood or a bad day.
But I can't understand general nastiness, bitchiness or unpleasantness. It doesn't fit in my fluffy world. I'm a great believer in the advice that if you can't say something nice, don't say anything. Especially if it's not constructive. And some of the things I have experienced lately have been the opposite of constructive!
I'm getting round it at the moment by telling myself it reveals more about the person being destructive and negative than it does about their subject, especially when it's me, and I can rise above it all.
Luckily, due to some great friends and some hard-earned respect professionally which is standing me in good stead, this is proving possible so far. Fingers crossed it continues, or those behind it get bored or move on and find positive ways to channel their energy.
In other news, Miss T is becoming more strong-minded every day. Yesterday we had to use the naughty step three times before 9am - a new record and not one to be proud of. But the bedtime battles seem to have been won and we are having lots of fun...mostly.
In terms of gainful employment, well, I'm still trying. I'm determined to see things as challenges rather than setbacks, and in general this is an exciting and interesting time. Negativity aside. Who knows what will happen? Not me...but that's okay.

Things to celebrate...

2009-01-13T05:34:00.000-08:00

1) For the second day in a row, Miss T declared that she wanted to go to bed for a nap, then actually went to sleep!

2) Yesterday, for the first time, she said "Thank you mummy" after I handed her something she wanted - without being prompted! (she also told off the decorator in my parents' house after he successfully negotiated her piles of toys and books on his way though but didn't say "Excuse me please...")

3) I have no idea what I'm doing next week - and I'm not that bothered!

If you're not impressed by all that, well, you should be! It's somewhat scary for me to read back that last point but it's true. The temp work I have been doing looks like it will come to an end on Friday and although I have several irons in the fire, or fingers in pies, or whichever cliche you prefer, I have no idea where my next pay cheque will come from.

But that's okay. Because at the moment I'm happy to let things happen. Without getting all spiritualistic/mumbojumboistic on you all, I'm starting to believe that old mantra that things happen for a reason. I've learnt some great skills from my temping placement and made some great contacts but I think it's time to move on. I may return later, or I may not. Who knows?

Equally, as I venture tentatively into the frankly terrifying world of self-employment (I'm practising hard at not thinking about cash sheets and ledgers and other things that involve numbers....), I'm making some interesting contacts there and there's a strong possibility that things will turn out okay. Or maybe even better than okay.

And perhaps the best bit? I'm making some great friends along the way!

So there are definitely plenty of things to celebrate!

New year thoughts

2009-01-02T07:26:00.000-08:00

Okay, I know I'm a day late but we were busy yesterday, introducing another new family tradition - a visit to the New Year's Day parade in London. I can highly recommend it. But I'd also recommend you wear at least three pairs of socks and take a flask - two simply weren't enough!
Another tradition at this time of year is to get all thoughtful and reflective about the year just ended, and share hopes and aspirations for the next one.
I'm sure many of you who trawl this blog regularly don't share my next thought, but I wish it had been in existence for more than six months. It would then be much easier to reflect on the days and months gone by. A bit like those newspaper reviews of the year that are used over the festive period to fill space....
Oops, nearly got off topic again...
Unfortunately I don't have a year's worth of blog posts to refer to (did I just hear a collective sigh of relief?!) so I'll have to rely on my memory.
Some things are simple. Last year I had a job I loved and one that I thought I would be doing forever.
But forever is a very long time, and I'm no longer sure that would have been the best option.
Of course, as we all know, it didn't work out that way anyway and I am working on lots of different options for this year, some very exciting indeed. It may all be things I want to do forever, but actually, at the moment, for now will do me just as well.
One thing I can refer to is my old diaries. Not as in Anne Frank, or even Adrian Mole, but bog-standard appointment ones. And last year's was crammed full. So was the year before. If it wasn't doctors' appointments it was my lovely therapist, and if not them then my life-saving friends. I literally relied on them to keep me going and in one piece. All of them.
Things may be different this year. That's not to say I don't want to see people any more - I still need a weekly dose of coffee and cake to keep me sane - but I no longer need them in the same way.
Take today; the first day Mark's been back at work since before Christmas. Tash and I went to play gym this morning (again with no make-up on, and I even forgot to put on my necklace and earrings which was going to be my token attempt at making an effort!), then came home, then walked the dogs, then had lunch and now she's asleep. I have no plans for this afternoon. We may go shopping, we may do some painting (particularly with some of the mess-free water painting kits her aunts got her!), we may just read some books and chill out.
That simply wouldn't have been possible a year ago. Every hour of my day had to be filled with more than just her and I was petrified of being alone with her. Now I even enjoy it - sometimes!
Of course I still get moments - no longer whole days, but sometimes hours - when I wonder what the hell I am doing, and wish it would all go away. But as she grows up and more of her personality emerges, most vociferously at times, I can actually see myself doing this parenting thing for ever.
That may sound strange, but during the really dark times I did think it was all only temporary - any minute now someone would come and take her away, or take me away; I didn't really care which.
Perhaps the most important change as we start 2009 is that I can see more of the old Liz returning - or maybe a new, updated version.
PND Liz is still around, but more shadowy and a lot quieter. It's easy to shut her up with a good dose of common sense, most of the time.
I don't think I'll ever get all of old Liz back, or get rid of PND Liz completely, but maybe new Liz can be a good combination of the two.
I'm sure you'll all let me know if she's not!

Terrible twos - or two's company?

2008-12-30T06:56:00.000-08:00

So as I mentioned, Miss T has reached that milestone of her second birthday.
And so have we, relatively unscathed. At the moment, at least...
And as well as a turning point in her life, the seemingly random date of December 24, 2008, was earmarked as the time to discuss the next steps in our lives.
Namely, the question of more children.
Life being what it is, we haven't actually had that conversation yet but we both know it's waiting to be had.
So in a bid to be more prepared I thought I would attempt to sort out some of my thoughts - I'm always up for a challenge...
I've said before that we've always seen ourselves as a family of four. And that doesn't include any furry additions!
So the next step for us would of course be another baby.
But is our blueprint for our lives a good enough reason for such an upheaval?
Why do people have more children? Would it be for Miss T, for us, or something else? And is it fair to her, or us?
Some of my friends who are on their second are coming out of those early months of chaos and seem to be reaping the benefits - their children can entertain each other and provide company for each other.
But trips out for coffee and cake are becoming more of a rarity!
It is perhaps testimony to how well they have managed that I have been able to think about having my fantastic contraceptive implant removed without breaking into a cold sweat. But of course that isn't the same as thinking about being the parent of two...
And I can see that my work situation at the moment, which is leaning towards the freelance/self-employed route, is very flexible and so perhaps ideal for adding to our family.
But at the same time the thought of the reality of another baby is frankly terrifying.
If I am completely honest, I am not sure our relationship would survive another bout of PND with the added pressure of a pre-schooler to look after. Or that I would.
Of course, there is no guarantee that it would all happen again. And of course there would be a support network in place already.
So is it fair to deprive Miss t of a sibling, and Mark of another child because I'm scared of something that may not even happen?
I don't know yet. I'll let you know if I work it out!

Festive fun?

2008-12-26T12:49:00.000-08:00

So we've almost made it through Christmas.
Which means we've also survived Tasha's second birthday. It's a very strange time for me - I'm another year on from those early days but as things move on I'm struck by how much I haven't.
I was also struck these last few days by how quickly things change. Not just the big things, like having an independent little girl instead of a baby now, but the little things, like how a day can seemingly go from good to bad in the blink of an eye.
A lot of that is down to Miss T, of course, and how she is handled, and whether she's had enough sleep, but some of it is also down to me and my expectations. If things turn out as I planned and hoped then all is fine - but if they don't, all is most definitely not fine.
I know that's something I need to work on, but it's hard after a life time of planning every little detail to let go and just let things be.
Maybe it should be one of my New Year's resolutions....

Thursday things

2008-12-18T14:24:00.000-08:00

Another one of those interesting mixed days....or weeks....or should that be months....
Progress in some areas, and I'm loving spending time with Miss T when I'm not working, but issues in other places.
And, I'm afraid to confess, as usual they are my issues with other people's comments.
I picked her up from the lovely childminder's this afternoon to be told she had been unsettled, which was not unexpected as she reverted to crying when Mark dropped her off this morning.
Of course she was fine, and managed to make two Christmas decorations and play with her two best friends, but it was a bit of a change from the sessions where she waves us off happily.
Wise woman that she is, the childminder suggested the change may be due to the fact that I'm now working quite a lot, and she is now there for longer sessions instead of a two-hour play time to keep the routine going.
I'm sure she is right, and it just means a bit more time for Miss T to adjust to the change. It's by no means a disaster, and wasn't even a big deal for the childminder, who pointed out even though it had been a difficult day it was no way near as bad as the early days with lots of screaming.
But can you guess what's coming?
Massive maternal guilt! I almost went straight home and phoned my new temporary work colleagues to say I wouldn't be in!
Luckily I realised that was ridiculous but still felt quite miserable for a while.
And there was more misery after a festive visit to a friend's yesterday, where there is a small baby in the family.
He was not there but his mum was and was positively glowing with pride and love for him. It was obvious how much she loves being with him and is genuinely amazed by each new thing he does.
It was lovely to see but it did make me feel sad that I missed out on all that - part of me is still astounded that anyone can actually enjoy something I found so hellish.
But let's end on a happier note - more progress to report. I'm working on strategies to deal with those moments where I could happily strangle her (and I know for sure I'm not alone in those!) and they seem to be working. It's early days but no strangulation incidents have occured, even though there has been dog tail pulling, dog leg lifting (don't ask me why!), dog water spilling, dog food throwing....and no, the strategy does not involve getting rid of the dogs!

Progress?

2008-12-15T13:03:00.000-08:00

Lucky people - two posts in two days! Although it took me three days to write the last one, so technically it should be two posts in a week...
Anyway!
I feel the need to record tonight's happenings because I am proud of how I handled it. And who knows, tomorrow I might need something to refer back to!
It was another bedtime which didn't go exactly to plan, although it started very well. Miss T asked to go up for her bath, we had lots of fun, got ready for bed with no problems.
Things began to go awry during story time when instead of listening intently to the tale of a little rabbit who is looking for the moon she began chatting animatedly about her day.
And the situation deteriorated when I tucked her up and went downstairs - the usual 30 second complaint was stretched out more and more and interspersed with plaintive "mummy come up" and "mummy cuddle" requests.
Typically, it just happened to be one of those nights when I have a to-do list that could keep me busy for weeks and Mark is at work till late.
So what did I do? Well option 1 was to hope she would settle by herself, and steel myself for up to half an hour of misery.
I did that for 10 minutes, and became more and more stressed with the thought of all the things I needed to be doing, and the possibility that she might keep this up all evening.
I even sent a few miserable texts out in the hope some magical fairy would come up with a solution.
None was forthcoming, of course so I made a decision. Shocking, I know!
I went upstairs, gave her lots of kisses, resisted her pleas to pick her up, told her it was bedtime and went back down.
And guess what? It worked! By the time I had got back down to my lengthy list, peace had settled on the house (apart from the hungry cats wailing for their tea...but that's a whole other blog!).
It may not sound that significant - after all, parents across the land get their children to sleep every day. And so do I, mostly.
But this incident had the potential to turn into one of those wallowing moments where we both end up in tears and no one is in control.
I am proud I took the decision to take control, and that I was able to go upstairs calmly and confidently - it isn't always so, believe me!
So - there you go. Little steps on the road back to sanity...and further away from the happy pills.

Someone give me a slap!

2008-12-13T07:48:00.001-08:00

You never know, it might shake things up a bit!
I've been working this week but don't get too excited, it's basically just temping.
And it's been good to be dealing with the different challenges that office life brings compared to toddler life. But (whisper it!) I wanted to be at home!
Yes, you read that right. I, who have spent the last two months bleating about wanting to work, wanted to be at home.
And not just at home by myself, although that would have been bliss. I wanted to be at home with Miss T, or more specifically out at the dreaded play gym with the painted ladies, out feeding the ducks, out meeting friends or home reading books and baking cakes.
In a way, that's a good thing. It shows that we do have some kind of bond because I wanted to be with her, and it makes me appreciate the time we have spent together during this blip in my career, and the time we will spend together in future.
And it also helps make my future a little clearer - maybe a regimented 9-5, even if it's only for three days a week, just isn't for me any more, at this stage in my life. That doesn't mean I'll be returning to a life of leisure for this week, or indeed for a while - my temporary colleagues want me back and I need the money.
But I will be investigating the freelance/self-employed route with vigour!
Now, that was the good news. The less good news is that despite my new-found, and long-awaited clarity, I have been struggling at home recently.
I'm hoping it's down to my much-documented inner turmoil, which like many other things, will soon pass. Because if it doesn't then I'm afraid I will be taking another vote on the good old happy pills/therapy route. It is something that has been mentioned by others several times lately and as I'm sure you all know, I have so far stubbornly resisted. I can't help feeling it would be a backwards step - nay, giant leap.
But I also can't help feeling that it's not fair on Miss T, or Mark, or others around me, to continue as I am.
Maybe Father Christmas can bring me a sprinkling of perfect parent potion along with a host of freelance opportunities...

clear as mud!

2008-12-07T12:33:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-03T12:16:00.000-08:00

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...

A week of no dramas?

2008-12-01T12:48:00.000-08:00

Almost a whole week without a post? What to deduce from that? Well, either I've been inundated with job offers and have been too busy, or there has been a week without dramas.
The answer is the latter, and I was going to add sadly, but that doesn't seem quite right. It is sad that as yet no employer has snapped me up (although I'm waiting on the results of three interviews so all is not lost!) but not sad that I've got through six days without feeling the need to rant/vent/unload.
So what's new? Well, not a whole lot. I'm clinging to the hope that I'll have a job by Christmas, although as it's rushing towards us at a terrifying pace that does seem slightly unrealistic. Each week seems endless when Monday comes round and I struggle to see ways to get through it. But each time Friday arrives we have managed somehow, and with less of those awful days that seemed to haunt me at the beginining of this latest chapter of my life. In fact, I can even look forward to some of that plentiful Tash and mummy time and the activities we do together!
She of course changes almost daily and today came out with something that no matter how hard I try, I can't simply brush off.
We were having a conversation about cats on mats prompted by a picture in a book when she came out with the following: "Patches is sitting on the mat."
I'm sure that's what it was - and the thing that makes it so strange is that Patches is the name of one of our family cats from several years ago.
She has in the past said things like "I'm talking to the lady" when there is no one but us, but I've put that down to her vivid imagination - she frequently takes her dolls on outings to the beach or the park without leaving the house.
But the specific mention of Patches - and I know it sounds awfully like cat, but I'm sure it wasn't that - was strangely comforting to me. As if not only are my real-life friends and virtual supporters rooting for me but figures from the past are also doing their bit.
I'm going to go now before you all thing I've really lost the plot!

The sun'll come out tomorrow....

2008-11-25T11:17:00.000-08:00

and I'm going to write about it, even if it jinxes me again.
Thank you very much to everyone who has been in touch with supportive messages, either here, by email or other means. The jury seems to be out on whether I'm going nuts again or just had a bad day so I'm taking a wait-and-see approach for the moment.
And for the moment - at the moment - things are good. Today was one of those rare days when I actually thought I could do this stay-at-home thing long term.
Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying I want to, far from it - I've got two interviews this week, one of them for a job that caught my eye literally months ago and I thought I had missed out on, so I'm keeping everything crossed for that.
But it did show me that maybe, just maybe, I can get through this job-less, income-less, identity-less void with some parts of me intact.
Again, there was no big secret - in fact, this morning with the whole day stretching in front of us and no plans, it looked like it was going to be another day of doom (we must be on part 6,349 by now...).
But we walked the dogs in gale-force winds and with waves crashing over the prom, which Miss T thought was hilarious, which somehow made it less of an ordeal for me (can't say the same for the dogs!) and after her sleep we made biscuits, which was really, REALLY fun.
Baking is one of those things I've been meaning to do but have always thought would be an ordeal - like painting, which we've only managed once.
But she loved it, I loved it - and we get to eat the results! Could it get any better?!
And Mark and I managed to have one of those elusive chats about bedtimes, and I'm pleased to report improvements on that front too (although he's up there at the moment so my famous jinx may yet take effect).
So today things in the life of Liz are good - hope they are for the rest of you too.

From bad to worse!

2008-11-21T13:08:00.000-08:00

Oh lucky people - two helpings of woe in one day!
So I left you pondering the joys of my day up until mid-afternoon, when Miss T finally decided to have her sleep.
And it should have got better from there as reinforcements arrived and I had a peaceful evening to myself to look forward to.
But it didn't. Reinforcements, in the form of a visit to granny and then Mark coming home, did indeed arrive and it was lovely having someone else share the demands, although I did feel that old pressure of needing to look like a perfect parent while feeling on the verge of falling apart the whole time.
I escaped to the shops leaving Mark to do dinner and bed but even that precious me-time was interrupted with a text about a mundane domestic matter. How sad is it that me-time is reduced to wandering round Sainsbury's?!
And bedtime was a complete disaster as the little princess manipulated her daddy as only she can, resulting in a battle lasting more than an hour between them, punctuated with some fantastic tantrums and toddler foot-stamping on her wooden bedroom floor.
I hate interfering when he's dealing with a situation, but I'm afraid it was clear he wasn't dealing with it, and what's worse, was getting stressed out which helps no one (look who's talking!) so I went up and took over. Part of me is pleased to report that after ten minutes and only one return visit she's now happily asleep - and fell asleep by herself - but another part simply feels weary.
I can feel proud I know her so well and can handle her well, but also disheartened that it feels like I am permanently on duty with no respite. This isn't meant as a criticism of Mark, who is fantastic with her, but just a statement that even my precious time off while he puts her to bed seems to be a thing of the past.
I know that sounds selfish, and of course for Tasha it's best that her bedtime is as stress-free as possible, so if that means I do it then so be it. But I'm sure many of you will understand that after a day dealing with everything from negotiations over when she can walk and when she has to go in the pushchair to explanations of why she should not throw balls at the cats, I feel in need of a break.
It is selfish - after all, she's asleep now so I'm getting a break. So I'm going to stop moaning and enjoy it!
But I am left wondering, and almost afraid to write it, when does PND become common and garden depression? Or was today just a bad day? Here's hoping for the latter...

Spoke too soon!

2008-11-21T07:37:00.000-08:00

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.

more thoughts, but some of them are positive!

2008-11-18T14:07:00.000-08:00

I know it's shocking, but I'm feeling positive today. Don't get too excited; there has been no fantastic job offer, although some things are bubbling away and I'm really hoping they work out. I can't put my finger on the reason for my good mood this evening, and actually I think that's a fantastic thing - in the same way that one of the worst bits about depression is not being able to explain why things look so bleak, it's wonderful to feel good and know it's not due to a specific external factor.
Of course, there are still things for me to brood on, and I thought I would share one of those with you here. It's another of those dreaded reaction-to-comment type moments and I can't work out how I feel about it.
So here goes.
Miss T has been in her "big girl bed" for a few weeks now and mostly it's okay. But there were a few extra bedtime traumas for a while as she learned to go to sleep on her own in a new environment.
I've always been a bit strict about her sleeping patterns because I've heard and read so much about parents who struggle to change bad habits, like babies who will only go to sleep if they are being held/rocked/driven round the block. Anything for an easy life! So right from the beginning she was put in her cot awake and the result was that bedtime was miraculously easy - we put her in her cot, she went to sleep.
Understandably, that didn't happen with her new bed and she needed some extra reassurance. But I believe it's still important she goes to sleep on her own, without someone sitting on the bed or in the room - the consequence of that happening is that each time she opens her eyes during the night and realises whoever was there has gone she starts screaming and insists they return.
Unfortunately, a consequence of that belief is that she cries when whoever is doing bedtime leaves the room.
Mark finds that incredibly difficult and is desperate to go back in and stay until she is asleep and when we were discussing it he said he just couldn't bear to hear her crying.
I can understand that, sort of, and I recognise a physiological response in myself when she is crying - I feel anxious, increased heartrate, etc - but despite that it doesn't actually bother me that much.
I bet you can guess what's coming next! I'm wondering if that makes me a terrible parent, if I'm too detached, if I'm hard and unfeeling. Shouldn't I be rushing in there too, or sitting downstairs in tears as I've seen parents on Supernanny etc do in similar situations?
I know that's ridiculous - and Shoulds are banned in my new post-therapy life - but it's something to think about. I'm tempted to say - and did - that she's not really crying at those times, she's just expressing her anger, which is different to genuine distress, and of course I hate it when there are real tears. And it's never for more than a few minutes, and it's not constant screaming, just intermittent roaring, which does all suggest to me that she is just trying it on to get her on way.
But maybe all of this means I am an extremely harsh parent and she will grow up feeling unloved.
Does anyone else wish there were clear instructions on the right thing to do, or multiple choice options with the choices being the long-term consequences of the actions?

Gloves - woolly and kid!

2008-11-15T04:18:00.000-08:00

We've had a lovely morning, which surprised me.
After all, on paper it looked like being a disaster. I was out with friends last night and consumed a bottle of wine, topped off with a Baileys, and felt awful when I woke up. Add the fact that Mark is working today and I'm stressing about job interviews and preparing for them and it should have been one of those days best forgotten.
But actually I think we did very well. I managed to get up, showered and dressed before Tasha woke and haven't even resorted to the electronic babysitter so conveniently provided by her favourite DVD. Instead, we've been enjoying the autumn weather in the garden of her granny's house, which is packed with outdoor toys, and in the park. And we've even managed to get some chores done! I didn't manage to convince her to keep her gloves on, so any tips welcome.
Which brings me on to the subject of the other kind of gloves, after the points made on the last post.
Do I think I should be handled with kid/velvet/any other kind of gloves? My immediate response is no. But then why do I bother telling people about PND if I don't want it to make a difference?
Part of the reason is to raise awareness generally and convey the message that it's okay to admit you have had mental health problems. But of course there are more selfish reasons too. Maybe one of those is a sort of safety net - so if I suggest meeting up people are less likely to turn me down because I might go mental?
I certainly don't think people should censor what they say in case their comment happens to be the one that I end up pondering at 3am. I genuinely welcome all comments, whether or not I might perceive them in a negative fashion. And actually when I do it's quite helpful because it teaches me to use my mindfulness, or wise mind, or whatever you want to call it, to work out whether that perception is based on fact or my scheming schemas.
I fear this is turning into a ramble, and I know I should be doing other things, like preparing a presentation for an interview on Monday. But I hope it helps as some starting thoughts - more comments? ; )

comments on comments

2008-11-07T15:43:00.000-08:00

The downside of being open and honest with people is that they are often open and honest back.
It's mostly welcome, and it's certainly better than pretending things are fine when they're not, or that everything is fluffy when the sharp edges are showing, but sometimes it's difficult to take.
I've had two conversations with people lately that brought this to mind.
One was with a work-type contact, who when I said I had PND asked why I didn't just "snap out of it".
It's an interesting question, and one I really struggled to answer. He said he had experienced depression, but realised other people were worse off and then found his world a brighter place.
My first reaction was to think he can't have had the same experiences of depression that I did, but who am I to question his perceptions?
It's excellent if that strategy worked for him, but it just didn't for me. And even this week, as I struggle with the realities of life at home with no work to escape to, I can see that others are worse off. But it doesn't make me feel any better. I've never found my black moods something I can just shake off, or snap out of.
Someone once suggested it's better all round, physically and emotionally, just to let them run their course, and I can see the sense in that. I'm not sure those around me would always agree though!
The other comment that's been on my mind came during a conversation with a friend, who remarked on how much more confident and happy Tasha seemed compared to the first time we met.
Of course that's a positive thing, and I personally believe there are many reasons for that, including her time spent with our wonderful childminder.
But my friend suggested at least part of it was down to my improved relationship with her, and my "recovery".
Again, that should be a positive comment, but my good old schemas couldn't help interpreting it as a negative, a criticism of my parenting so far. After all, if Tasha is confident now and that's down to me, then her clinginess and angst before was also down to me.
Of course I know most of it wasn't, and it was just her age or the stage she was going through, but it's not that easy to believe, especially after reading more and more research about the importance of love and loving interactions in those early months.
The thought that Tasha could suffer any long-term ill-effects from all this crap is my worst fear, and it's something I will remember as I continue with my struggle to "snap out of it".

back to basics

2008-10-30T03:25:00.000-07:00

Breathe a sigh of relief, dear readers - no job rants today!
Instead, I thought I would return to the point of this blog and share some more thoughts/experiences/waffle about PND, or my life in mad-world.
This was mostly prompted by an article in The Sun, of all places, yesterday - maybe some of you saw it? Lisa Tanner, who helps to run www.mothersvoice.org.uk, shared her experiences about PND in the wake of a welcome verdict that a woman who threw her baby from a hospital window should not stand trial for attempted murder.
I say welcome, because that's what I think - some of you may disagree.
But I would guess - and I'm willing to be corrected - that those of you who disagree and think she should be locked up for a long time (he survived and is now a healthy 18 month old, btw) have never experienced such severe post-natal illness.
Lisa bravely confessed she wanted to drive a car with her and her baby daughter into a brick wall. I have felt similar urges. I've wanted to drop Miss T from a great height, I've wanted to hurl her across the room. Not recently, thankfully, but back in the dark days when she was about the same age as the baby who was thrown out of the window - and older.
Does that make me an attempted murderer? Okay, I never acted on those urges, but that's because throughout it all I was able to recognise with some small part of my mind that this was all part of the illness and I did believe that I would soon get some help.
I don't know the woman in the court case. I can only remember vague details about it. But I do remember feeling so, so angry when I heard about it at the time. Not because of what she did, but because she was allowed to get to that point.
There are so many treatment options available, which I've ranted about before, that there really is no need for anyone to feel like that. She was in a hospital at the time so I would guess people were aware of her illness. But clearly no one was helping.
Things seem to have changed since then, according to anecdotal evidence I've been given. Friends of mine who have braved having a second child report that they are now given the Edinburgh test for PND twice, when their babies are tiny and at about five months.
And one who was given a PND diagnosis says she was "practically stalked" by her health visitor after that, and still is now even though she is off medication and doing great.
To her, that's a pain - she finds it intrusive to be asked how she is doing every time she visits the clinic with her baby, or to have phone calls from her health visitor just to check how she is.
But it's something I would have loved at the time I was going through it all.
Miss T is calling so here the rant must end (do I hear another sigh of relief?) but I couldn't go without just quickly mentioning the ever-so-helpful (aka patronising) 'fact box' that went with the feature. By The Sun's GP, Dr Carol Cooper, it is headlined "Lowdown on the blues" and proclaims that the cause is unknown and it is amazingly common. That's all fine.
But then she lists some of the factors known to increase the risks - none of which I had. I know I'm special, clearly, but I find that sort of stuff really unhelpful.
And her last comment really annoyed me - "The main hurdle is recognising the symptoms and seeking help...."
I'm sure we all know by now that wasn't my experience - my main hurdle was accessing appropriate help that actually made a different instead of being given a prescription and fobbed off.
I really hope she's right and things have changed though.
That's it, I promise!

Bad things about not working....

2008-10-28T14:47:00.000-07:00

1) Days and days stretching in front of me with nothing to do except be a mum.
2) A lack of purpose to the days unless I try so hard it feels fake.
3) Maintaining a positive air in day to day life and in countless job applications despite a deafening silence from employers.
4) Losing contact, or potentially losing contact, with friends at work.
5) How do I answer the inevitable question: "So what do you do?"

Answers, hints or tips on a postcard please!
x

five great things about not working!

2008-10-25T04:07:00.000-07:00

It was going to be a list of 10, but I thought that was a bit ambitious for me!

1) feeding ducks

2) not setting the alarm (I'm ignoring the fact that it went off at 4.45am today because Mark was working!)

3) No morning rush

4) I have no idea what day it is!

5) more time for meeting up with friends.

See - I can look on the bright side!

Oh - and another one! On a good day, it feels like I'm back being 18 with my whole life ahead of me. I'm no longer stuck on one career path - I could do anything I like! Assuming, that is, I can convince someone to take me on. Or there's always the self-employment route....it's actually quite exciting!

ups and downs

2008-10-22T12:51:00.000-07:00

Today was my last day at work. When I say work, obviously I don't mean ever - I hope.
But it was my last day doing the job I've dreamed of since I was 15, and have loved doing ever since I left university.
I always used to feel smug when people moaned on Sundays that they had to go to work the next day - I never had that feeling. And after a week off I was always itching to get back into things.
There is part of me that wonders if this whole situation is somehow a lesson for that smugness, but I know it's actually just a reflection of the global economic situation. Really, I do.
And everyone else seems confident I will get another job quickly and I'm trying to share their optimism. But patience is not one of my strong points, and at the moment it's frustrating to send applications off into the ether and then hear nothing at all.
But each one I send off is better than the one before as I get more used to the whole process of selling yourself on paper - which after all is something I should be more able to do than most as words are my profession. Or were...
Sorry if this all sounds a bit negative - it's just a low moment which I think is understandable today.
And actually, picking up Tasha this evening was a wonderful tonic and I'm quite looking forward to spending some real time with her with no worries about work. Apart from the obvious one!
I do have plans - I am working on some volunteering opportunities, and have planned "job-hunting" time each day and I hope they will help me keep positive.
And all the lovely comments I get on here help as well - I can't tell you how lovely it is after a day of feeling worthless and useless and, well, redundant, to come on here and know people are reading and care.
So thank you all - and I hope to have some good news to share soon!

Strategies

2008-10-16T14:52:00.000-07:00

What a lot happens in a week! Sorry for the delay in updating this but I've been a bit busy in the 'real world' after my redundancy was confirmed on Monday.
Obviously now I'm jobhunting with a passion (without my email signature pointing to this blog!) but I must also confess to some panicking.
I am genuinely really excited about the new opportunities that lie ahead but in the back of my mind is the knowledge that I'm not great at being a stay-at-home mum so I need to work for my sanity, as much as for my financial situation.
The weekend provided a bit of a reminder about that as I had one of the worst days I have had for a long time in terms of falling back down the black hole.
I found myself in bed mid-afternoon, listening to Mark and Tasha playing downstairs and just unable to motivate myself to get up and join in.
And that terrifies me - I've worked so hard to get back to the fluff and I fear this whole situation could blow it all away.
Of course, when I think about it all logically, I know things are different now. Tasha is that much older and I enjoy spending time with her. We've had several days with nothing planned where we've just enjoyed each other's company and hung out together so there's no reason to think that more days like that will end in disaster.
But it's been an emotionally difficult time which has also demonstrated how fragile things still are so I need to come up with strategies to help if things do deteriorate.
I only have two so far, so I need a bit of help!
I'm reminding myself to turn off my filters and read/hear what's actually being said. There was a perfect example of this in an email I had in response to a speculative CV I sent off. I read it as "you're rubbish and we don't want you here" but what it actually said was "Your skills and experience would be welcomed in our office but we have no vacancies at the moment".
And I'm planning time each day to focus on job application stuff, even if it's just checking emails or scouring the papers, because it helps me retain a bit of control.
But that's it so far, and if I face a prolonged period of unemployment I'm not sure that will be enough. So all contributions are welcome - as are job offers!

honesty - or not...

2008-10-09T13:21:00.000-07:00

I've been job hunting lately - more of that another time - and it's been another of those experiences that teaches me a lot.
Today I was at a job fair, which is something I had dreaded, but which actually turned out to be quite fun. And I learnt I am quite good at selling myself - and might actually have something that employers want to 'buy'.
Such positivity was unthinkable a year ago, when my self-confidence was low and I couldn't imagine why anyone would want such a useless person as me on their team.
So I also learnt, again, just how far I have come.
But I was faced with an interesting dilemma - I've had to email a few CVs out to people and the usual signature on the bottom of my email is this blog address.
It was a hard decision to make to put it on there in the first place - it's one thing getting all this sort of stuff out in the ether but it's another to actively point people towards it.
But as the title suggests, I am not ashamed, and I don't care who reads this - to a point.
I have to confess that I did delete the signature when I sent out my CVs. And it's hard to explain why.
It's not because I am ashamed - if anything related to PND or depression or mental health came up in an interview I would happily discuss my experiences because I am proud of being here and I think it makes me a more empathetic person.
But it's also not the first impression I want to give people. My CV is a very positive document, as you would expect, and the covering notes that accompany it are also enthusiastic and professional.
And as that electronic version of me is what will decide whether I get as far as an interview or not then I want it to be as appealing as it can be.
There's a part of me that thinks I should leave the link on there and stuff them all but the realistic part of me knows the sort of world we live in, and that I need a job to pay the mortgage.
And while of course if a prospective employer took the time to trawl through these missives they would be suitably impressed with my strength of character and personal achievements, not to mention my wit and intelligence, it is more likely they would just click on the first page.
And if that happened to be a report of a bad day then my CV would be going the way of the world's economy, ie down the pan.
So for now I'm a candidate without mental health issues.
I do feel like I'm letting everyone down by hiding it in this way but the economic reality must take precedence here.
And of course once I get my shiny new well-paid job I will be directing all my new colleagues in this direction.....

Just a quick one!

2008-10-08T12:38:00.000-07:00

Not much to say in the life of Liz but I was interested in a little bit I spotted in a national newspaper.
Apparently LM Montgomery, one of my childhood heroes and the author of Anne of Green Gables, committed suicide after suffering with depression.
Her family let it be reported that the cause of death was heart failure but her granddaughter has now said it was a drug overdose. She is quoted as saying they realise secrecy is not the way to deal with depression and other mental health issues.
Three cheers for them!

Saving the world one small step at a time

2008-10-06T12:02:00.000-07:00

So I have this stupid self-sacrifice schema, which I've mentioned before (and which if I had half a brain tonight I could provide a link to but it's not hard to find...)....
Anyway, in very simple terms it means I tend to do things for other people rather than myself and even at the expense of myself, which is when it becomes a problem.
I know I keep going on about it, but it's genuinely something which I still struggle with, despite months of very good therapy-ing.
Plus I do try to keep it at the forefront of my mind so that when I agree to something which is clearly stupid I can question myself and challenge this schema.
Anyway! It's been well and truly challenged over the last few days. I've seen lots of things going on that I feel the need to "fix" or "help with" and sometimes I have even tried to get involved.
Sometimes that works, and it's not too detrimental to me - after all, a counselling and coffee session with a friend is good for me as well (and part payback for the all the counselling and coffee I've had from them in the past!) - but sometimes I just need to accept I can't do it all.
I can't make everyone happy, no matter how unhappy I make myself in the process.
I can't fix everyone's dodgy relationships, no matter how much I jeopardise mine trying to do so.
And I can't take away everyone's problems, no matter how many I create for myself while I try.
So, for today at least, I've decided on a new strategy. I've decided that if I am as happy as I can be, perhaps in turn some of that will rub off on other people.
So tonight after I picked Miss T up from the childminder (where she had one of her best days ever despite a bad cold and being a poorly person) we had the dinner I had cunningly prepared yesterday (and tomorrow's is waiting in the freezer - please be impressed!) and then we sat on the floor together and just talked and played and sang.
I never thought I would say this but I absolutely love spending time with her like this. Her speech is improving all the time so we can have real conversations (okay, a lot of them involve my imagination, as follows: Me: Did you have fun today? Her: Alex. Me: You played with Alex? Fantastic! And you also went to collect the big boys from school, didn't you? Her: Shapes. Me: You are very good at your shape-sorter now, that's right. - I think you get the picture!) and she can tell me what she wants, and it's wonderful when I can provide it.
And that makes me happy. Okay, we could have spent that time working on saving the world somewhere but I think what we did has just as many benefits.
She went to bed happy, after more singing and playing in the bath, and I felt chilled out and relaxed even after washing up, cleaning the kitchen, medicating the dog, feeding the cats, de-Tashing the living room, etc etc etc.
So from that one little step I hope we can take more giant leaps and our good times will spread around.....and all the fluff can also help insulate us from some of the harsher realities of life away from our happy home as well.

Bad day blues

2008-10-02T12:00:00.000-07:00

So today was not so good.
But what is good is that I know why, and by identifying that was able to turn it around for the afternoon. That is good, surely?
It was another case of letting those "shoulds" get in the way of everything else. There's so much non-Tasha stuff going on that I felt I should be sorting out that I wasn't giving her my full attention, which is not something that goes down too well with an almost two-year-old.
So she decided to try lots of tactics to get my attention, most of which involved being as troublesome as possible.
Add a bad cold for both of us to the mix and you don't exactly get off to the best start.
So after several attempts at stopping her fiddling with the cooker switches, a few discussions about why we shouldn't pull dogs' hair and a reminder about drawing on the paper rather than the carpet I'm afraid I rather lost the plot.
It was 11.30am and she'd been up since 6.30am and she had been yawning anyway so I put her in bed. But it was entirely for my benefit not hers.
Actually, not entirely, as after 10 minutes of singing she was asleep which gave me the respite I needed to think things through a bit away from the chaos and pressure so I could work out where it had all gone wrong.
And when she woke we started again and it was much better second time around - but then I only had to manage for an hour until Mark got in so I can't take all the credit.
And in fact, when I say I lost the plot, it wasn't as bad as it sounds. I shouted at her, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It didn't work of course, and she just laughed, which is when I decided bed was the next thing to try.
So - a bad day, but we both survived and lessons have been learnt. Tomorrow I'm thinking about braving the health visitor....eek!

I'm back!

2008-09-29T12:46:00.000-07:00

...after a busy week and a weekend away without internet access - eek! But I survived both....
And I have a week off work now which is a welcome break from some of the tougher aspects of life right now and a chance to enjoy our little family without any external pressure.
So what's new since last time?
Well, there are still piles of poo to be negotiated and I'm still watching my step.
But there is also quite a lot of fluff going around which is a relief.
The weekend away was a family fest which could have been a nightmare but strangely wasn't too bad.
And I think part of that is down to the changes I have seen in myself and my parenting. If I had been in that situation a year ago it would have ended in tears and possibly tantrums, and not just from Tasha.
Last time I attended a big family gathering like that I felt under constant scrutiny and as though my every decision and action was being judged for discussion by others later.
Which of course was rubbish and just my perception thanks to some of my skewed schemas.
This time, I wasn't that bothered if everyone thought I was doing everything wrong because I know it works for us. And if other people do things differently that's their decision.
And a by-product of that was that I wasn't constantly comparing myself to others. Of course I was a bit - this is me, after all! But my default conclusion wasn't that everyone else was perfect and I was somehow faulty or deficient in every way. In fact, there were a few situations that I think I handled quite well....and others that I know I could have handled better, but that's life.
It was a good break though, and did remind me of some of the more important things in life like laughter, love and other things beginning with L that I can't think of right now!
But it's good to be home - and Mark's off tomorrow so the holiday continues!

Shit happens sometimes

2008-09-22T13:52:00.000-07:00

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...

notes to self...

2008-09-20T04:41:00.000-07:00

....or things I have learned in the last few days.
1) A night out is a good thing, but it's best to get home before 3am if Mark is working at 6am the next day. Yawn!
2) Staying generally sober during a night out helps with an early morning the day after - but not with drunken conversations with friends, which work better if all parties are drunk!
3) Managing a dog walk and a morning of fun with Miss T despite late night and early start and with no grumpiness from either party is an achievement to be celebrated.
4) Managing the above and completing several housework-related chores (but not cleaning curtain poles!) instead of retreating back to bed with Miss T is another achievement. Although I'm still not convinced that retreating back to bed wasn't the better option...
5) I can't save the world and everyone in it - but I'm still going to keep on trying!

A small diversion...

2008-09-17T10:38:00.000-07:00

Can you believe it's Wednesday already? Lots to report including some progress with the childminder - she didn't want to go home on Monday which is a fantastic sign. I still hated leaving her crying though....
But anyway - a diversion!
Yesterday two home shopping catalogues arrived at my house - you know the sort of thing, filled with bakeware and cleaning products and stuff.
But they do provide a useful source of income for who ever delivers them so I always try to look through them in case there is something in there I just can't live without....I have actually bought things in the past, I'll have you know and the banana cases are a fantastic invention!
Anyway! There were some real gems in there this time but my favourite was a very long duster, with a picture showing a very efficient woman using it to clean her curtain poles. Seriously.
I have never cleaned my curtain poles. And I can't imagine a time when I would have nothing else to do so I would think, gosh, my curtain poles are looking dusty...
In fact, I'm looking at them now and they don't look dusty so clearly don't need cleaning!
Is it just me? Has anyone ever cleaned their curtain poles? Am I just a filthy person? There's still time to order one - the catalogue doesn't have to be out until tomorrow....

In praise of praise

2008-09-14T08:19:00.001-07:00

Something lovely happened to me yesterday.
But typically, I couldn't fully appreciate it.
Tash and I were out with the dogs when a woman who lives along our regular route and has followed our progress with reformed devil dog Mully was on her way out.
I already know her to be a lovely, kind person because she has previously taken the time to come out of her house to say how well she thinks we have done with the aforementioned devil dog - clearly she watched our early dog-owning days which mostly involved running after him as he sped off after a dog/bike/skateboard or anything that moved and ignored everything we said.
Anyway, yesterday she said we had done a great job with our dogs and were now doing a great job with our daughter as well. As Miss T was walking Megan beautifully at the time I did have to admit she looked very cute.
Unfortunately, a few minutes later it went a bit wrong when she stepped into the road and I had to shout at her.
And it went a bit wrong in my head as well, as I couldn't accept what she was saying.
It's so odd - if anyone says anything that could be construed as criticism I'm immediately accepting of it. But anything vaguely positive gets immediately dismissed by my internal filters. If it's from someone who knows me, I assume they are just saying it to be nice. If it's someone who doesn't, well, clearly, they don't know me and if they did they wouldn't say it.
On a more positive note, we've had a good few days with lots of fun, variously involving sand, babies, drawing and even shopping, and for once I'm not looking forward to work in the morning - I could actually imagine doing this mothering thing full time at the moment.
But Tash is asleep so that could all change as soon as she wakes!

More bumpiness

2008-09-11T13:31:00.000-07:00

Oh dear. Today started so well - and continued in the same fashion, with a trip to the park and lots of fun - but ended rather badly, complete with blood and tears.
Fear not, I did not flip out and set about my child, but she did fall over in a very dramatic fashion, flat on her face on her plastic shape sorter, and the result was a huge lump, lots of blood and even more tears. Oh dear.
Luckily this time the tears were confined to toddler ones - last time she hurt herself I ended up sobbing with her about my failings as a parent and guilt at not having protected her.
Anyway! Back to the world of a PND-er....
This week's rant is another website one, and yet again I've lost the link - one of these days I will get organised. It was on askamum and was a discussion about PND where one of the clearly less-enlightened members suggested that the reason more people are diagnosed with PND now is because they like the attention.
Yes, you read that right. She believed that people faked the symptoms of this hellish condition so they would have something to talk about at their coffee mornings - 'jumping on the bandwagon' was her exact phrase.
At the risk of sounding as dramatic as my daughter (I do wonder where she gets that from!) I was so angry after reading the whole discussion that I couldn't think of anything else for a good half an hour.
It's akin to those comments like 'I know she says she has depression but I saw her the other day and she was laughing so she must be fine'...not that laughing was something I did much of in the dark times.
It's easy to see now how far I've come, and today was a great example as most of our fun involved just Tasha and I, but that doesn't mean for a second I don't remember exactly how I felt back then.
I remember not feeling able to get out of bed, let alone the house, and spending hours just crying and crying.
I remember dreading Tasha waking up because I would have to deal with her and I just didn't know where to start, and thinking I had made a horrible mistake.
And I remember how liberating it felt to realise others had been through the same thing - had also wished they could give their child away - but were now enjoying the challenges and crises of parenthood.
I can honestly say I've never met a single person who can fake those sort of symptoms, or who would even want to (although I have just watched the 9/11 faker so am not so sure.....)
And luckily I've never met anyone who has been anything but supportive when I have revealed my struggles/issues/demons - to my face at least. Some people have unwittingly made comments which perhaps reveal hidden prejudices; a good one this week was 'She was threatening violence but I know most mental people do that...' but I like to think that I can present them with a human face of mental illness to challenge those views.
Right - that's enough for now - just time to sort out the kitchen before Mark gets home...or maybe I should conjure up some trauma for a bit of attention... ; )

Quality time, and questioning

2008-09-09T12:46:00.000-07:00

Apologies for the lack of updates - it's all busy busy busy here, you know!
So where were we? Well, Friday night was night out time again which was fantastic.
Saturday was....challenging....but we made it through (mostly by going out!).
And yesterday I was really proud of myself after having some great fun just playing with Tasha. I had an hour before I had to go out to an evening meeting and I had loads to do to get things ready, but I decided to ignore it all and we just played. And it was fantastic - we both loved it!
It also sort of made up for a difficult day with more childminder traumas. Although Tasha is fine when she's there, mostly, it is still proving very stressful. I mentioned it to her in the morning, that she would be having fun at the childminder later, and the immediate reaction was tears (her, not me!) and "no no no" which wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear.
I got a bit of a telling off from the childminder for "prolonging the agony" by staying a bit when I drop her off so the plan for next week is to dump her and run. It goes totally against whatever parenting instincts I have to deliberately do something which is making her unhappy, and every time I (or Mark) drop her off it is making her unhappy.
I know all the theory and we've talked it through and we both feel she needs the extra interaction, and to develop more independence to avoid even more traumas when she goes to preschool, but it doesn't make it any easier. Especially not when she is so happy to be dropped off at Granny's or left with Mark when I'm working.
Sigh.
When does this get easier?

A rocky road has ups and downs...

2008-09-05T04:07:00.000-07:00

....and so does my life. Here are a few.
Down: Last night, when I wrote out a very honest - and mindful, as my therapist would say - post which then got lost. Grrr.
Up: Yesterday playing on the beach with Tasha (although this followed a bit of a down when she refused to sleep at home or in the car - after a mini-tour of Thanet I gave up and we spent the half hour before meeting a friend playing instead)
Down: Completely failing in my very important mission to buy new shoes and ending up in a pub completely failing to convince Miss T to eat any lunch. Although she did make a very creative mess.
Up: Playing finger puppets with her this morning.
Down: Standing in the shower for 20 minutes just so I couldn't hear her refusing to sleep again. Before you all start hunting for social services' number, I would have heard if she had cried, and she wasn't. She just wasn't sleeping.
That all sounds a bit bleak, doesn't it? And to be honest, this morning it all felt a bit bleak. I couldn't get anything to go the way I had planned and was thinking about investigating boarding schools for toddlers - surely if someone else did all the hard stuff and sent her back when she was about six, I would be able to cope then?
But then I realised that it was my obsession with planning, which I know is nothing new to most of you, that causes a lot of the traumas. Which is my problem. In all senses of the phrase.
It's not Tasha's fault - she doesn't know that I needed her to sleep yesterday morning so that we could go out in the afternoon - she just knows that she isn't tired. She doesn't know that our health visitor is threatening us with a dietician - she just knows she isn't hungry.
So for today I've tried to abandon plans. It hasn't worked entirely - there are some things I agreed to do before I started my new chaotic (oops, I mean care-free) regime. But without the pressure of needing to get x and y done by a certain time I hope life will be a bit easier.
I've used an eyelash wish on that thought in a bid to help things along, so if any of you see a shooting star please think of us!
x

I need to think of more imaginative titles!

2008-09-02T13:16:00.000-07:00

I almost called this one another variation on thinking or thoughts but decided to spare you all!
So, today's update - no tearful moments (well, a tiny one when I said goodbye to my lovely colleagues in preparation for an office move) and no friends squeezed in - but it's a work day so what do you expect?
And, as my original title would have told you, I have been doing more thinking. And there's been a bit of a shift - a bit like the weather today.
That doesn't mean that all the sun has gone and the rain is swamping me - that really is just the weather.
In terms of thinking, I've had an attitude change to second babies. In general, I must stress, so don't go getting excited.
In the same way as I was able to enjoy other people's weddings while thinking about ours and using them to work out what I would like, and not like, I'm seeing other people's experiences with more offspring and learning what seems to work and what doesn't.
Luckily, people have been fantastically honest so far about what they would do differently if they could do it all again which is really helpful for someone like me, who lives by lists and evaluates everything ten times over.
And in return I'm trying to be honest with them, without making it seem like I think they're more mental than me for doing it all again.
One positive point I have noted so far is that Tash loves babies and is very gentle with them - all that time playing with her dolls is clearly paying off.
Of course I'm not stupid enough to think that she would accept a sibling without any problems but it is reassuring that her first instinct might not be to jump on its head.
That might still be my reaction though!

Friday fun....

2008-09-01T12:03:00.000-07:00

Apologies for the delay in updating you on plan B, C or whichever version we got to - I'm sure you were all on the edge of your seats.
So I did manage a night out on Friday - and it was fun! It was lovely to be out among people who appear to have no cares in the world (note my careful choice of words there - I'm only too aware that all is not always what it seems!), and to relax and just enjoy chatting without a toddler interrupting all the time.
And there was also a sign of progress in other areas too. I got in at about 1am (shock horror!) and Miss T decided that she wanted to get up to play at 2am. And 3.30am. And 4.30am. And I gave up at 5.30am - Mark was already on his way to work.
Old, pre-therapy me, would have seen that as a punishment for my night out having fun without my daughter. And I'll be honest - there was a split second when I thought she was doing it on purpose because she resented me having a social life. But it was the tiniest of moments and I realised quite how ridiculous it was. So implied punishment or not, I will be out on the town again soon - plans are already afoot for the next two Fridays!
It hasn't all been fluff and fun though - it wouldn't be my life if it was! But the lows have been short-lived and I can recognise them as that.
I also read something interesting today - if I find the link I'll post it - on a blog about parenting and other issues. The author, who has many views I don't agree with, has a little girl a bit older than Tasha and boasts that she has almost reached the end of the "terrible twos" without incident.
One of her theories for this is that her child is better-behaved because of a prolonged period of breast-feeding, which I would dispute having seen no convincing research about that, but that's a whole other blog, let alone another post!
Another, more credible one, is that she treats her daughter with the respect she would another adult living in her home and makes time for activities she wants to do as well as the boring adult stuff.
It's something I have been doing with Miss T, albeit mostly unconciously. If we have to do something for me, like going to the bank or the shops, we follow it with something for her, like a trip to the park or the beach. I organise coffee and a chat with friends for me, and we then go to the swings so she can run around after being cooped up and reined in by a sea of "don't touch" and "come back" commands.
So far it does seem to have worked, although it may be coincidence rather than any great parental skill on my part. But I think there is some sense to that argument - I'm more likely to sit through something dull if there's a promise of something nice at the end of it. And if there isn't then I think a lot of people would find themselves getting frustrated with whoever has dragged them to Dullsville!
That's it for today - but I did manage to find the link if you're interested...

Thoughts....

2008-08-28T03:48:00.000-07:00

So I'm still working on planning that night out - nothing definite so far but it's definitely coming along!
And Mark and I are also planning a night out together soon (shock horror), particularly as we won cinema tickets in a raffle.
But I've noticed something that may be PND related or just parenting related. I used to watch all manner of films and enjoyed horror with the best of them - Mark and I had a memorable Halloween watching a midnight showing of the Exorcist.
But now I just don't want to watch anything that isn't pink and fluffy. Maybe it's cos I've had enough horror in real life and I want a bit of escapism when I go out.
Maybe I'm just getting old! Any thoughts welcome - polite ones though!
x