Losing trust

When my mental health is like it is at the minute, I find paranoia really brings itself to the forefront (social media doesn’t help this, but we’re so dependent on it nowadays – especially for bloggers).

Hand in hand with feeling like I’m not good enough and am always doing something wrong, it’s not a great pairing.

Today has been a day where I wonder who I really can trust.

You see things, hear things, from people you thought were good friends.

Banter between people. One of them who you have already lost trust in, anyway.

It could be innocent, but those demons in my head tell me different.

Is that me?


Have I done something wrong?

Do people really dislike me that much?

Should I just disappear?

Maybe it would be better.

I wouldn’t need to be thought of, or discussed, then.

Maybe only in sadness and grief.

From a select few people, that is.

I wouldn’t need to think these thoughts myself.

Go away paranoia, go away loss of self-worth.

Go away, depression.

But the loss of trust, that can stay.

I don’t know who to trust nowadays.

I just don’t.

We’re going back to the start…

You may have seen last week that I had a huge breakdown and have fallen into the big black hole again.

Where you just can’t see the future in front of you. Sometimes you don’t want to see the future in front of you. Sounds harsh, but sometimes it’s oh so true – that’s what it does to you.

Anyway, I digress.

After the breakdown, we saw it was a cry for help and I made a doctors appointment. I knew what I was going for, and that was anti-depressants. I was adamant that I wanted them, and when she asked what I was there for, that was the first thing I said at the same time as bursting into tears. It was inevitable.

I was in there for ages. So many questions – just get on with it already and give me them. Please! She could see that I just wanted a prescription and to get out but it was kind of like background noise to me – I was zoning out.

I had to do the depression questionnaire again. I got a score of 19 which is classed as ‘moderately severe’. I had told her that I wanted to kill myself. But she didn’t think I needed AD’s. Counselling would do the job. (As well as other options to work through, e.g. getting out a bit more – easier said than done with sky high anxiety too).

I was jittery. I had counselling before and it did help, for a while. But I still had to go on AD’s afterwards. So I didn’t want to go through the same routine again. Easy option? Maybe. But right now, I will do anything.

She could tell I wanted them. Needed them? In the end she asked what I’d rather do. Well obviously, I said AD’s and I would try counselling as well too, alongside the other suggestions. So she gave me a prescription and she also gave me the number of the crisis team, just in case I ever feel like doing something like *that* again. I have to go back in a couple of weeks for a review. Obviously I’m not sure where I’ll be at right then.

I hate this.

I hate this, so much.

Crash & burn

I was hoping, praying, that this wouldn’t happen again.

That I wouldn’t suffer the same fate I did after J was born.

I’ve been hiding, trying to fight it myself for weeks now.

Nearing breaking point.

Today I snapped.

I reached it.

I don’t know what triggered it, it just happened.

From nowhere.

I decided that life would be better off without me.

My children, my husband, my family.

Selfish. I know I’m selfish.

But this illness, this horrible, debilitating, illness. Now that, that is even more selfish.

It doesn’t care.

It can control me.

But I couldn’t control it.

I care. I care about my family.

They care about me.

But sometimes, I think they won’t.

I am selfish for not caring about what happens to me.

And it makes me sad.

I looked at my children, and felt physical pain. Sadness.

My husband had to come home from work.

I slept.

I woke.

I didn’t want to.

I wanted the pain to just go away.

Emotional pain, that hurts just as much as physical pain.

It was a cry for help.

Which I should have seeked sooner, rather than fighting.

I can only be strong for so long.

I’m getting help.

With help, I will fight.

You will not beat me.

I will win.

World Mental Health Day 2014 #TimeToTalk

Today, the 10th of October 2014, marks World Mental Health Day.

Why is mental health still such a stigma?

Chances are you know at least one person who has mental health issues, but you may not actually know because they are ashamed to talk about it.

The recent death of the much loved Robin Williams caused everyone to start talking about it, but why should it take for somebody – anybody – to die, in order to start talking?

The post I wrote last year I did so with ease; I wrote it because even though I wasn’t suffering at that time, I wanted people to talk.

This post, I’m feeling a little overwhelmed with.

Recently I’ve been having some pretty low days.

I haven’t posted about it here yet as I’m trying to cope. I’m trying to battle.

I have been talking though. Talking to friends.

I may talk about it openly again on here soon.

But for now, I just want to tell you, if you are reading this and you think you may be depressed, or suffering anxiety, anything to do with your mental health, then please…

…talk.

It’s time to change.

It’s time to talk.

It’s time to end mental health discrimination.

By clicking here, you can make your pledge to help end mental health stigma. 

The depressing truth | In the media

I recently came across an article that a couple of friends posted on social media recently. The headline caught my eye simply because I related to it – The depressing truth behind mums ‘unable’ to breastfeed. I put together three of the words – depressing, unable, breastfeed – and immediately thought of myself. If you have read my blog before you will know that I really struggled to breastfeed both J & N.

The months after J was born were some of the worst of my life because I was unable to breastfeed. I blamed myself, my body didn’t work properly, I couldn’t provide for my baby. My inability to breastfeed led to an enormous amount of breastfeeding guilt. In turn this led to me developing post natal depression. I mention in the post I linked to for the experience with J, that I had help from the support workers. But that was it. They could see that I couldn’t get J to latch, but they didn’t suggest anything else. Now I see it wasn’t my fault, but is a possibility that J had tongue tie; but nobody could diagnose that because I didn’t know about it back then, and nobody else mentioned it to me. So I gave up before I even really tried.

My experience with N was slightly different in that I tried battling on for longer but we had the exact same problem – his latch, or lack of it. We had help from the NICU nurses when we were in transitional care, but nothing when we were discharged. I refused to give him formula as I was so so scared of developing breastfeeding guilt and depression again. The support workers came out to me a few times for a week or so after he was born, but every time they came out it was the same. They could see he couldn’t latch, but nothing else. We attempted, but no other suggestions, nothing. I was simply told as was said in the linked article, “Stick at it and it will click”. So we stuck at it. It didn’t click. This time though I didn’t blame myself as I know I tried my hardest for four weeks, on my own for the most part. Again, a friend mentioned to me recently that N could have tongue tie too. No-one mentioned anything during support.

So far (fingers crossed) I have gotten away with developing depression because I was yet again unable to breastfeed.

Both times, I believe I really could have done with specialist help. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe it wouldn’t. But just the fact that it would have been a ‘professional’ rather than just support, might have helped me not to become another statistic.

It is so sad and such a shame that there is no specialist help for so many women who really want to breastfeed. It’s okay saying that breast is the best option (which it is, I know), but where is the help, rather than just the support, if women don’t know about it and therefore can’t find it?