Little islands

Perhaps I want to proove that things maybe aren't as bad as they may seem in black and white. When written down my thought are a little scarey, much safer that they are boxed away and people continue with their illusion that I'm coping, if a bit quirky.

So as proof I'm making a list of times when I fould an island. When it all went away.

Technically harder than it seems...

Last night, sitting on the sofa with Tom, being held tight.

A similar moment last weekend

Not being able to sleep last night and creeping around the house to see my people all curled up looking at total peace

Sitting in the car one morning this week and just taking in how pretty the castle looks in autumn and wishing someone a sunny day

Little islands of calm in my storm. Even a minute where there's momentary confirmation that my feeling of being alone at sea is just in my head and I can close my eyes and smile is enough to break the clouds for a while. It's not all bad.

Ribbon On My Wrist

Ok so when you initially ask for help, you're generally asked to fill in a questionaire where you score statements from 1 to 4 on how accurate they are. There's more to it than just scores though. So I thought instead I'd tell people the truth about how things are in my head recently by answering each question in my own words seeing as I've migrated inwards.



1. I feel downhearted, blue, and sad.
Well, I've been writing the blog for three months now so the chances are this is pretty accurate. Except blue and sad doesn't cut it. When the sad takes hold on occasions it's more like a void. One blog described it best, it creeps up on me quietly then hits and becomes a big fucking black hole.

2. Morning is when I feel the best.
I can't tell when I feel best. Some mornings are happy, others I wake up and immediately wish I hadn't. In the same was the evenings pass with no regulality - some evenings I want to snuggle and be loved and others I want to crawl under a rock where no-one can find me. If there is any regular occurance then mid morning is most likely when I'll slip into twitchy mode and lose track of everything and everyone in my attempts to be productive, my head tingles. And mid afternoon is pretty much a guaranteed downward to a degree, when I'm at home without the distraction of being a mushroom, this is the point when things sometimes seem at their worst.

3. I have crying spells or feel like it.
I didn't. It was more like I couldn't. But I felt like it - sometimes I feel like crying just out of pure frustration that I can't just function like everyone else. Sometimes it's because the world as a whole just scares me and I want someone to wrap me up in their arms and make it all better.


4. I have trouble sleeping through the night.
Nope. Not me - not unless you count the kids. If anything it's all I want to do.


5. I eat as much as I used to. (If you are on a diet, answer as if you were not.)
I eat. I like food. I don't like what it does to me. And it's more like food apathy - I'll eat if it's there and I don't have to do anything with it. I'll make an effort to make sure the kids eat healthily, I just can't be bothered to feed myself, that and having been so apathetic about eating, I quite like the after effects.

6. I enjoy looking at, talking to, and being with attractive women/men.
Again, so dependant! Yes, depending on who it is. People I'm close to, absolutely, random strangers absolutely not. I don't like people and my dislike of being near new people has just intensified recently. I feel utterly raw and sometimes feel like they can see all of this bleugh on display just by looking at me. It used to feel hidden and now I just feel exposed and I don't understand why.

7. I notice that I am losing weight. (If you are on a diet, answer as if you were not.)
Surely this was answerd above?! Why am I being asked this again? I've lost some, not intentionally.

8. I have trouble with constipation.
And this is relevant somehow?

9. My heart beats faster than usual.
I don't wear a heart monitor - last time I tried one it increased for a whole different reason lol. Other than that, are you asking me if I'm nervous? Paranoid? Yes, quite possibley. Quite a lot. I panic at the slightest thing. Everything worries me. I fret that I've upset people or that those closest to me are drifting away, and yet I rarely tell them becuase I worry that me being insane will drive them away further (can you see where I'm goin here?)

10. I get tired for no reason.
I've not slept properly in 4 years - there are two reasons upstairs looking rather more innocent than they really are. But yes, I get lethargic, apathetic and generally tired (or just bloody lazy)

11. My mind is as clear as it used to be.
I don't remember ever not feeling up and down like this. This recent crap is just me, but magnified.

12. I find it easy to do the things I used to do.
What did I used to do? Not a lot. Drink I guess. And I can't do that now. But I do much more now, so yes nice and easy here.

13. I am restless and can't keep still.
Sometimes. Sometimes I have to fill every second and can't sit down, but I balance that out nicely ;)

14. I feel hopeful about the future.
I have no actual plans, I'm just sort of seeing what happens. People around me are planning their lives away and I just feel like I'm riding the wave. I can't plan if I don't know what's ahead.

15. I am more irritable than usual.
I'm always irritable. I take after my Dad ;)

16. I find it easy to make decisions.
I don't want to make them - does that count? Recently I'd rather let other people take over the important stuff.

17. I feel that I am useful and needed.
I'm needed. Sometimes I am sure about being wanted, others not so sure. I need reassurance and probably don't provide enough reassurance to the people that I love.

18. My life is pretty full.
Totally.

19. I feel that others would be better off if I were dead.
There are times, yes. This I guess is the biggie. I think about what would happen and it's more the thought that perhaps people would be better off, but they hurt that it would cause would be horrible so better to ride the storm than let other people hurt.

20. I still enjoy the things I used to do.
Does WoW count?


Last word. Things aren't that bad. They've been much much worse. I'm just a bit wibbly while I work out how all this change affects how I can be openly. I just wanted to be honest.

lucri causa

For the sake of gain. Or in my case piece of mind.

Things must be stored away. Change approaches and private lives must become more private. You can't challenge change when it's for the greater good, but I predict rain. I just have to ride the storm.

Ultradian Cycling

Some information to explain why I have been bouncing up and down like a slightly demented yoyo. The past few months have been a bit of a roller coaster with me deciding to let things fly. But to add to this, there has been a return of cycling. For a long time it was relatively easy to hide as first came the children (and the blame lay with hormones.... what a wonderful excuse!) then before that excuse ran out I started Uni where the periods of normality were quite lengthy, manic moments were addressed with coursework and I could throw myself into hours of coursework producing pages upon pages (jokes were generally made that my assignments would be three times as long as anyone else's, but hey, it got me good grades!). But these waves were the reason for my putting so much work in - they gave me an outlet. The not so great moments were there too, but were easily put down to being tired, over-stressed and having issues with tutors.

Now the course is over, and work, although much less pressured than the course doesn't provide me with an obsession to feed my moods. The down feels more empty and the ups have no focus so I flit from one thing to another with no grounding force - this is possibly worse than the downs as the ups take so many forms from euphoria (which is fine when you have an outlet, but not when it's because you cleaned a worktop to perfection) to anxiety so intense you can't breathe and as calm as you try to appear you just always seem 'twitchy'.

A few months back I decided to return to using some medication to lift things a little, but I had to stop these when my hips gave out and painkillers were needed. The combination of painkillers and pills weren't marvelously safe, so pain free became the focus as my mood had stabilized. And while I was out of my tree on painkillers I cared little for my mental state as I wasn't sure if my brain and body were indeed connected. Now I've ceased the painkillers, the cycling has returned with ferocity, and instead of days up days down which I was used to, I was faced with several cycles in a day. I wake up full of the joys of spring and by lunchtime I'm so apathetic it's unreal, then back up in the evening (or any combination you can think). I've been here before, when I finally notice it, it's called Ultradian Cycling and frankly must be awful for those around me. I can't imagine living with anyone in this state! So I got the happy pills back out, and 24 hours after returning to htp & lithium orate I'm feeling more stable than I have in weeks. It's like life in sharp focus again. So instead of harping on about how unfair life is, I just want to say sorry to people around me; I've been a pain in the arse. It's not a miracle cure, but rational is a start.

To Blog Or Not To Blog

I got a bit deep last week. I was having a bit of a dip and I'm not sure I could figure out why.

And yet, today with the rain lashing down outside, my hips aching and the kids ignoring every word I utter, it's not all that bad. I've been rather productive - online shopping done and being delivered later, washing is underway and I've even cleared up the kids room and the hall. DT is coming over in a bit to help me continue with the war against mess, although I'll admit to actually wanting to have a hermit day. I have little interest in the goings on of that group of people at the moment. It's all high drama and cliques - not my thing.

We threw out loads of stuff over the weekend and parts of my house actually resemble something near organisation. I'm attempting a tidy session then shrinking into a corner to wince. Sad, but effective.

And what of the crazy? Actually the moment of sad appears to just be lingering in the background. Not as the old style fury and mass self-destruct that it once was, but as a background lull into apathy. I've become rather insular over the past week or so, slipping into this familiar routine of addressing the things under my nose and becoming forcefully blissfully unaware of everything else. Happiness entails a tidy house, peace at work, a warm bed, love and cuddles. Everything else is pretty much by the by. Credit crunch? Meh, things go in cycles, what goes down will eventually come back up. US President? Well that was rather fun to watch from afar, but the tv show is over now. Mass global terrorism? It's horrific, but there's nothing I can do, and worrying about it won't help.

As a plan it does seem like a good idea, but while I've been insulating, I've also cut out a few people from the head stuff ~ it's not that I want to, instead it's that the apathy has taken a new form and instead of feeling intensely, I feel very little. I have become blank, excepting a few moments. Having let everything fly into the ether, I embraced being a princess. It was great and for a while there I was the highest and lightest I've ever been. Except being a princess isn't viable when in fact fairytales don't exist. I know people may find it sad that accepting life just isn't based on fantasy, but it's not. Life in general is grinding your way through the daily tasks with a reward of a hug at the end of the day to keep you fighting tomorrow. Reality is that life just is. Yes, I'll always dream of being a princess, but dreams are just that unless you're in a disney film. I've accepted reality, and I'll take those moments of love and comfort as an added bonus.

Propaganda May Have It's Roots In Truth Sometimes

I was musing on the way home what to blog about. There have been a few things running through my head that I wanted to mentally delve into and I was sort of composing them as I drove home (essentially to ignore the twangs happening in my back!).

The I got home and opened my post and read a letter which is blatantly propaganda, but touched me. It was one of the things I was toying with and wasn't sure if I really wanted to think about it ever again. I'd mentioned it's passing on here once and decided that that was enough. But it shouldn't be. There are things which affected me deeply and in the tradition of expressing my feelings I'm going to do so.

I know there are a couple of readers who, for them this blog may be painful, and I therefore suggest you don't read it. Not because I don't trust you with the details, but becuase I want to sheild you from being upset while at the same time releasing these issues. This is a part of my past and I need to accept that this happened and that the present is so much better. This is not meant to upset or offend, it's just something I need out of my head and into the ether. So here goes...

The letter I received was from the Society for the Protection of Unborn Children. Unbeknown to most people I am pro-life. Unless there are extreme circumstances, I do not believe that abortion is an option - if you were willing to enjoy the practice, then you should be mature enough to deal with the end result, and if you're not willing to accept the consequences, then keep it in your pants. It's not just a theory, I'm pro-life having accepted the consequences of my own actions. This is my opinion, you may disagree, but I am allowed to believe this.

In the letter was a single quote from Emma Beck, a woman from Cornwall who took her own life after being unable to deal with what she had done. The quote was her suicide note:

"I should have never had an abortion. I see now I would have been a good mum. I told everybody I didn't want to do it, even at the hospital. I was frightened, now it is too late. I died when my babies died. I want to be with my babies - they need me, no one else does."

Except instead of the shock factor that this was meant to inspire in me, what I actually did was relate entirely to what she had written. I regretted my actions, and still do. I too told everyone I could that I didn't want to do this including hospital staff. I begged and pleaded to be allowed to go home and was told I was just feeling nervous and it was probably the hormones.

Agreeing (termed loosely) to a termination not just left mental scars and horrific guilt but left physical scarring in my uterus which when I met DH caused us to lose our first conception at 7 weeks and be told I was unable to carry a child to full term if conceive at all. Proved them wrong though - even if pregnancy was a little fraught.

Let me get really quite honest here. This child that I conceived was not done so in a stable loving relationship which is the ideal, and where our two beautiful girls found themselves, however it was also not a drunken encounter. I can pinpoint the exact day of conception - I know what happened. I've already blogged about my less than wonderful ex. This particular encounter happened after a weekend where he had been clubbing. As was usual for weekends like this there had been a lot of drugs flowing and he'd partaken in all of them. I remember I'd not gone out that weekend, instead had spent the evenings visiting my friend and her boyfriend who led a much more sedate life. So after a weekend bender, there was the usual come down which generally meant a foul mood. It's not like it was a massive surprise, but something happened to spark it off and he lost his temper. Enough said. I suppose he thought it was a way of making up, but I wasn't interested and feigned sleep. By that point I used that trick more in hope than anything else. I remember distinctly saying I couldn't because I'd had antibiotics and the pill wouldn't work and being told to shut up. And spending my floating time up on the ceiling hoping that the pill would be effective.

Obviously, it wasn't. And I ended up discovering I was pregnant and it never crossed my mind that I wouldn't want the child. The downside came when breaking the news. At this point it may be worth a confession that I've not made before. I had fallen pregnant like this once before, however an argument served to remove any decision required of me. This time a choice had to be made - and it was his to make as my body was no longer my own apparently. If he didn't want it, it wasn't going to happen. Why did I not shout for help? Well, in my way I did. I told as many people as would listen I did not under any circumstances want a termination, but not why. No-one knew why I was going ahead anyway. I saw no way out of where I was and knew f I left it would be far worse. Instead, I denied that this appointment had been made and even as I was being driven there refused to accept that the doctors would let me go through with it. I was hysterical as they prepared me and begged to be let home, instead they left me in a room with him where I was 'persuaded' to return and do as I was told. I may be able to forgive him for being a violent, drug taking shit, but I will never forgive him for leaving me with this guilt.

Now the people who do know about him and the termination have said it was for the best. That bringing a child into the world in that situation would have been terrible. But how about an alternative? How about if someone had asked me without him in the room if I had free will? How about when they saw me in a gown covered in bruises below the neck, asking if perhaps I needed someone to stick up for me? Or at least asking the obvious question. How about when a year later I wrote an email to BPAS telling them how awful my experience had been, just responding. There was an alternative. If someone had just noticed, I could have asked for help.

What I have now with DH and the girls is amazing and I know maybe would never have happened without what happened in the past, so if nothing else, the good thing to come of this was for me eventually to find happiness with a wonderful man and have the chance to prove myself a worthy parent. I understand why she would want to take her own life, my difference is that I do have people here who need me, they don't lessen the guilt, but they allow me to prove myself a better person than I was back then. Maybe some of this goes to explain why I can't bear to hear either of them cry, and feel the need to randomly hold them even when they wriggle away wiping the kisses off.

Memories Past

I know I've done my blog for the day, but perhaps I feel I missed out something which has been dwelling in this bizare litle mind of mine. With preparations for Rememberance Day around me I am made aware of another date which I usually make every effort to forget, but I think for once this year I am going to take the time to remember someone. Death is life coming full circle, and should be expected, but however obvious the signs may be it always comes as a shock when it finnally arrives.

All of us fully expect to lose our grandparents during our lifetime. By our late teens most of our elder generation have passed on. Not in my case. My mother has a full set and my Dad still regularly hides from the chastising phonecalls from his father. And so, for me my rememberance in actual fact falls with a particular person. For most the loss of an elderly family member is an accepted fate, one which saddens us, but leaves us fond memories. One is not expected to grieve their loss for many years as 'they had a good innings'.

So this is why dear reader, I find it dificult to express in a rational sense why the feelings of loss of this particular person still haunt me. I find it externally ridiculous that despite many other confessions, this is the singular blog which has brought me to tears. I feel that I should have accepted this loss as a part of life, except when my Great Grandmother pased away I grieved not only the loss of a grandparent, but that of my singular maternal figure. This seems harsh to my mother and hers. However, as a baby screaming with colic, it was Nanny who would hold me and walk me up and down until I slept; as a young child Christmas did not start until she arrived; when my parents screamed at each other, it would be her who sat me on her lap and talked to me about when she first saw me; I was 'her holly'; it was her who showed me how to press flowers or would take the time to watch me rush about on the lawn or spend frustrated hours teaching me how to knit; it was her who gave me my interest in music, singing old songs to me. It was Nanny who told me about my mum's real dad and how he had died - she explained to me how terrible it was for her and how she carried on because she still had my mum and then me. She accepted open emotion and at the same time showed amazing bravery - I remember spending countless days with her cuddled up being told what it was like when she was little (she was born in 1902), and then during the war when my grandad was born. I remember how soft her hands were even though they were worn and wrinkled. She was a champion knitter and no baby in our family went without some form of knitted object from her - all of these items were lovingly pressed under the seat cusions of her sofa. She read The Sun of all papers and refused to have a bank account, instead storing all her cash in her wardrobe which we found when we had to clear her flat. I remember her headscarves and how she smelt, and how she would wash her hair every sunday in the kitchen sink for either me or mum to set in rollers. I'd taken it for granted that she would be at my wedding, and see my children as they arrived into the world. I guess at that point I thought she would be here forever. She didn't get to see either, but I'm pretty sure she would have approved of the outcome of all three.

Why am I doing all this now? Because 14 years ago, she passed on and since the day she left us I've never spoken out that I have all of these memories. These were mine alone to keep safe. And she should be remembered. When she passed on was the point in time where I learnt to suppress emotion. This only occured to me after much blogging. Don't talk about it because it just upsets people. You don't want to upset people do you? No-one wants to see you cry. Don't be sad. Then other things happened, and instead of telling people, I didn't upset people, I wasn't sad, I made sure no-one ever knew. Well, now they do through here and so this also becomes a safe place for these memories.

But I haven't forgotton, I know this, our first child was named after her for just that reason. I refuse to forget. And I'm doing this now, because next weekend is her birthday and I wanted to pre-empt that day before it hits me and have my short time to remember and accept that I do still miss her and yes that does make me feel sad, and even after nearly more years than I was able to be part of her life, she continues to remain in my memory. So for Charlotte Rosina Edwards, Happy Birthday xxx