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Thursday, 5 February 2015

Fighting demons

Well to start with when I say fighting demons, I don't mean literally. I definitely don't walk the streets at night with a cross and a wooden stake, like Buffy the vampire slayer. Although, that would be pretty cool, but that's not the point I'm trying to make. I am going a little off topic. I am talking about the 'D' word. Depression.

Despite the fact that millions of people suffer from depression, it still seems to be a hush hush subject. Especially post natal depression, it something that not enough people talk about. A lot of people are too ashamed to admit they are suffering from post natal depressing. Many won't even admit it to themselves.

This was something I struggled with myself. After my daughter was born I quickly developed post natal depression. I felt as though everything was getting on top of me and I just couldn't cope. I would spend most of my time in tears and I barely slept. I became afraid of going outside because I was afraid people would know I couldn't cope. Most people will tell you that when you have post natal depression, that it puts a strain on your relationship with your new baby but for me that was not the case. For me the issue was with my eldest. I absolutely love my son but at the time everything he did wound me up the wrong way. I would find myself getting angry with him for no real reason. Eventually I started picturing myself doing awful things to him, things that scared me and made me feel like a terrible mother. If he was playing up while we were going down the stairs in our block of flats, I would think about how easy it would be just to push him down them. It was almost as though I had an evil voice in my head. These thoughts would make me feel sick and I hated myself. On several occasions I would go to medicine cabinet and stare at the tablets, wondering how many I would need to take to end it all. I often thought that my fiancé and children would be better off without me. My partner would often ask if I was ok and if I was struggling but I would just snap at him, thinking that he was just critising me. All of my family knew I was struggling but I just couldn't admit it to myself. In my head mums were supposed to be able to do everything easily and by me struggling, I felt like I was failing everyone, especially my children. It wasn't until I broke down in front of my health visitor that I finally excepted that I needed help. She arranged for me to speak to a doctor and they soon put me on anti depressants, something I always promised myself I would never do. They also arranged for me to speak to a outreach worker from my local children's centre. She was absolutely amazing. I had spoken to family members about how I felt but speaking to someone unconnected felt great. She always had time to listen to my worries and never judged me. She encouraged me to take part in different activities and helped me find ways to spend one on one time with my son. She did wonders for my family.

There was something else that helped me through the darkness and that was writing. Writing had been something I have been doing for years, but had taken a break from. A week or two after I had my daughter I started to write again. Nothing serious, it was just a bit of fun but soon I became dependant on. As my mood and mental health changed so did the story. It became darker and I addressed some of my feelings through my characters. Of course the situations they were in were nothing like mine but I understood the way the were feeling. It gave me a chance to escape the problems I was dealing with at home and gave me something else to focus on. It was something I could control. Like most people suffering from depression, I felt completely out of control. Even today that are days when I feel the darkness creeping up on me, that I hear that little voice which tells me I am not good enough. The difference is now I am not afraid to talk about it. I am not afraid to ask for help. 

Unlike some dealing with depression, I quickly understood what was happening to me and why. I was very much aware of my mental state but I just couldn't control it. I believe depression is something I have been close to several times in my life. Several times during my youth I watched my mother struggle with depression and helped her cope and deal with things, as she has now done for me. I suffered through bullying from those that I thought where my friends, who made me feel like I would never be loved by anyone. I guess you could say I was the D.U.F.F (designated ugly fat friend), when we went out I always felt like I was there to make the others feel better about themselves. Later I was fooled into believing I was in love by a man who played on naievity. I knew deep down I felt nothing for him and he was just playing with me, but I just wanted to feel loved. He used me and dropped me as soon as he got what wanted. Leaving me with a rather sick and twisted understanding of relationships. When my sister left, my family began to crumble and I had to be the back bone that held everyone together, as well as trying to get through my exams, work and dealing with the fact that grandfather only had a few years left to live. Thankfully, I managed to rise to surface through all of that but I believe that is how my story with depression began. Don't get me wrong, I had a great childhood and the most amazing and supportive family. My life isn't a sob story at all but it just proves that depression can strike anyone. If I could give any advice to someone who was suffering from post natal depression or just depression in general, it would be that it's ok. You don't have to face it alone, don't be afraid to admit that you need help. Don't bottle up your emotions, speak to someone, whether it is a friend, family member or doctor. The best thing you can do is talk about it, let it all out. Don't let depression rule your life, there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Today I am still a little mental, but overall I am happy I have my family and that is all that matters to me. They are my rock, my heart, my everything.


Being perfect

I think the main problem I had when I became a mother was trying to be perfect. I wanted to do everything by the book. I wanted to breast feed because everyone said it was the best thing for the baby. I wanted to get back into my jeans straight away and be a trendy mum, just like the other mums I saw when I was out and about. I wanted to go to all the groups and everything like that but that never really happened. 

I think as mothers we compare ourselves too much to others, expecting to be just like them. I used to get up in morning feeling exhausted, and I still do now, and the last thing I wanted to do was do my hair and fix my make up. I know at times I looked like a complete mess, but I used to see all these other mums with tiny waists, looking immaculate. They wouldn't have a hair out of place and they looked gorgeous and rested. I thought perhaps I was doing something wrong and hated what they must have thought about me when they saw at me. It was probably something along the lines of, what hedge did she just climb out of. 

I attempted breast feeding, as I was determined to do it and prove what an excellent mother I was. Unfortunately though, my son was born with severe jaundice which meant he had to be under a UV light. He had to lay on a UV pad too. This tended to leave him dehydrated. So I would breast feed him as much as I could but I couldn't supply enough, so I had the give him powdered milk too. I had to alternate it. As soon as I gave him that bottle instantly felt like a failure, which in truth I shouldn't have, I was just doing what was best for my son. After we left the hospital I tried to feed him solely on breast milk, but stressful situations at home made it difficult. My grandad, who had been suffering with bone cancer for several years, passed away the day after my 21st birthday. We found out he had been rushed to the hospital minutes after my now fiancé proposed to me. As you can imagine I was filled with many different conflicting emotions. On the the one hand I was over the moon but the over I was devastated. With other things getting on top of me, I soon found I had dried up and once again felt like a failure.

I went to different baby groups as soon as I could, which most I really enjoyed. However I did find most of them to be quite clicky. There were certain groups of mums that would look down there noses at everyone else. When my fiancé and I finally got a place of our own, I tried going to the children's centre nearby but no one would let their children play with my son. I was quite a bit younger than some of the other mums, and definitely came from a different background. I instantly felt as though they didn't want me there and never returned. Most of these mums were like those I mentioned earlier, the perfect perfect mums that can't do no wrong.

The thing is though behind closed doors they are just as tired and stressed as the rest of us. They just hide it better, they are not any better than anyone else. Everyone deals with motherhood in their own way and that's ok. Despite the many parenting books which tell you how to be the perfect parent, there is no such thing. There is no manual and we all need to figure out what works best for us. There will be days where you want to scream and shout but that is ok, it's normal. We all need to stop trying to be perfect and punishing ourselves when we are not. No one is perfect and I mean no one. The moment we stop comparing ourselves to others is when we truly free ourselves to be a great parent.