You might have noticed I’ve been quiet on here, sorry readers. I’ve been struggling to find words for how I feel. Nothing has felt big enough to write about. Late in May that changed. I had been at a party after a hand-fasting ceremony, which is a pagan wedding of sorts. We left to drive home as it was over the border in Wales and we needed to be back before midnight as an in law was babysitting at our house. We walked back to our car, tired but happy. It was a clear night, not too hot or cold, I was in high heels so the walk back to the multi storey car park felt much longer than it really was. I’m the passenger, I slump in the car and relax as Husband drives down the zigzag ramps to exit the car park. Kind of dull for the first […]
I have totally over shared myself, my thoughts and feelings. I’ve hit YouTube with a silent story video trying to explain my mental health conditions. As a result of a traumatic series of events as a young child all the way through to my early twenties. Then “bad births” with both of my sons. So many things are triggers for me. Each day I am effected in some way by it all and it doesn’t really go away.
Depression! View image | gettyimages.com It’s a word all over the media lately. People with depression are not all dangerous, most of the time most of us are harmless to everyone but ourselves. I luckily am not a pilot. I’m not going to lie, I don’t think I should be in charge of hundreds of lives – ever. But I would happily get on a plane, even if I knew that some of the flight crew had or have depression. Just having depression does not make you want to harm others. If a person gets treatment it can really help, I don’t mean just tablets and more tablets, I mean therapists and real help. Before I got “help” I would consider myself possibly a danger to others – if I was suicidal in the wrong place at the wrong time I wouldn’t have cared that others were in my way. I […]
No, I hadn’t either. But I was reading a pals blog, a lovely happy post, then I clicked on one of the related posts at the end. It was this the truth about tokophobia. Tokophobia apparently means an extreme phobia of pregnancy. So there is a new word for me to remember. I am terrified of pregnancy. Terrified of birth. Terrified of labour. I have flash back phobia related dreams. I imagine myself in labour, even though I am only dreaming I feel the pain. I feel cramping sudden pain like smaller contractions. Until I wake up I am back there. Things didn’t go well for me at the birth of my first son. Apparently it was all fine and not medically unusual. But I kept saying “something is wrong. Something is still inside me.” They didn’t believe I knew my own body, first time Mother, what would she know? […]
Twitter informs me its World Mental Health Day today. Something I can contribute to I feel. The other day I shared my doctors letter with you. I was hurt and upset to read a professional stating “Julie’s condition disables her” and his opinion that I’ll probably never be fit to work again. This is due to mental health. Mental health is often invisible. It often comes with a huge stigma, and a lot of judgement. A brief history of me… I’ve been abused, step father and a male partner. I have been beaten, robbed, raped, forced to do things, and utterly controlled to a point I lost the will to live. I escaped, I ran a few hundred miles and made internet friends. One of those internet friends is my Blokey, and we have two gorgeous children. Despite my mood swings, flash backs, nightmares, phobias, depression, dissociative disorder, and break […]
Today I went to the doctors surgery. I was phoned and asked to check the letter (doctors report) to my employer. It’s been 12 months since my breakdown you see, and I haven’t worked since then but technically I’m still “employed”.
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Well twitter was a fun place tonight. An awful lot of people are deeply offended, upset, angered or plain livid with ASDA and Tesco. If you missed it I’m sure you’ll read about it soon. It’s not the costume that offends me so much as the name. Mental patient. I’m a mental patient actually, thanks ASDA. Read Nickie’s post on this costume. It has offended me and I am not really buying ASDAs “sorry” tweets. Way to go, fuel stigma and prejudice. Do I look mental? Is there a uniform my psychotherapist forgot to issue me with? If I was cooking and had a big knife would that be a Halloween worthy look? Can you tell by looking at me I’m nuts? Mental? Medicated?
It’s not been great recently, I won’t lie. I’m done, I’ve had enough and I want out. Except I’ve no where really to go. I can’t stand Him Indoors telling me I’m useless, that I’m lazy and milking an “illness” and should get a job… in retail no less. He keeps pointing out shop work : you know, what therapist and doctors and an independent occupational health adviser agree I’m not suited for. Retail nearly saw me leap from a window. Since not “working” I’ve got in to blogging, trying to blog for good, not just personal rants or reviews. I’ve helped charities, and supported others in the “online community”. To him they are strangers, people that don’t matter. To me they are my only friends. I need them, and I hope it’s a two-way friendship that they like me back.
Well what can I say, today didn’t start off great. I struggled to sleep again last night, and I’ve never been much of a morning person anyway, but this morning I didn’t see or hear my alarms. I have various alarm clocks, all set at slightly different times. First thing I see or hear today, not the alarms, but Blokey in a bad mood demanding I wake up now. He’s one of those people that wake up and *boom* he’s wide awake. I am not like that. I go through stages almost, starting off barely awake, slow and confused, I gradually realise I’m awake, and try to fight sleep, then eventually after about 30 to 40 minutes of being dazed I wake properly and stumble to the loo and brush my teeth. From then I’m ok, awake even if I’m feeling exhausted from good or bad dreams the night before. […]
The last few days Team Matilda Mae have been busy talking about ideas for fundraising and I realised I’ve not really explained why I want to do this. Why am I willing to jump from a plane for a family I’ve never met? Why should I even care? Well here goes, I care simply because I am a Mum too. I saw the tweets from Jennie about Matilda Mae and all my sympathy, and thoughts were with her, I wanted to fix this. Hoped so hard it was a mistake, that She might wake up. I cried reading my screen, Jennie was not just words on a screen, she was a real lady, sharing her real emotions, and I needed to fix it, to help, to listen. But I can’t fix it, there is nothing anyone can do to bring Matilda back, but by doing something mad for The Lullaby Trust charity […]
Katy has been a good virtual pal to me over the last few months, and she’s great. Here is what Katy says…. In 2010, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia after suffering from strange experiences for over three years. It was an earth shattering diagnosis, and despite having ‘company’ from my voices, it was the loneliest time of my life. When I started recovering from the symptoms a year after diagnosis, I wanted to do something to help others. I didn’t have a clue what I could do, but after finding inspiration in a memoir about schizophrenia, I started my own blog, joined Twitter and then did the biggest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I started a magazine. I started Still Here magazine so that people with schizophrenia, psychosis and other mental illnesses could find support, inspiration and most of all, reduce loneliness. It is a one-year long experiment, […]
It’s way past bedtime and here I am, wide awake and trying to ignore the urge to tidy the house. Can I sleep now. Today, well technically yesterday, I went to the weekly Psychotherapy appointment but this time I broke down in tears. A snotty, damp red faced mess. Gawd how much I wanted a hug then, but can’t hug or even shake a doctor/therapists hand. He had me explain why I feel such overwhelming desire to “protect the youngest” in most situations, why my eldest resents me. Why I’m always so self negative. What happened at the boys births and how I said goodbye to D at five days old and telling him to look after his Daddy, because a doctor told me I’d die by morning. How I thought I’d die if I was pregnant again. How I hate myself for being a rubbish mum. Being disappointed in […]