I had little man all day, whilst Daddy went to work. Our first real time together since I’ve come out off hospital.
It was a difficult day, but also one I’m proud off. I shed some tears, almost called the ward for help, almost called granny to say I couldn’t cope, but then the emotional wave passed and I perserveered.
My conclusion though is that my main issue is 100% untreated postnatal depression and recovery from that needs to be my main focus.
The meds will not solve anything and the self esteem issues and self hatred will hopefully ease if I can just get the right help.
I hope little man had no idea. I hope I’m not damaging him. I hope he knows that i do Iove him and i hope I can beat this.
I’m still on a psych ward. I’m still feeling suicidal and I’m still struggling with facing up to all my little demons.
Covid 19 has been tough on me, with no visits allowed. I’ve not held or played with little man in weeks. I feel so guilty for dumping him again. I feel so scared about mapping out a future that will not damage him. Some days I doubt my love foe him. Some days I want to give him back, but everyday from in here i face time with hum.
And I do it because I want him to know I love him, and that I’m trying to be better for him.
There is a long and difficult path ahead for us as a little family. It’s one tonight, that I want to run from. I want to ligature, but no loopy, not tonight. Fight for your little man. Fight for what could be fun fullfilling future for you all.
I started this blog around 2 years ago, when I was first sectioned and subsequently admitted to a psych hospital.
I can’t believe it’s post 400, but worse I can’t believe I’m writing this from my bed on a different psych ward.
My mood is low today. My future hopes are well not exactly hopeful.
I’ve not seen little man in weeks (damn covid 19). What I have seen thought is that little man and OH do well without me. They’ve moved back into granny’s for a bit. That’s where they belong. Little man deserves a happy home, and all the love and care and support that I can’t offer him.
I love you little man, but you deserve so much more. This drug addicted, self destructive, self centred mum is no good for you.
I look at him and I can see he’s cute and funny and full of prospects, but he just doesn’t feel like my boy. It’s like looking at someone else’s child. I feel cold towards him, resentful and angry that I’m not doing better. I’m no good for him. He deserves so much more.
Nothing comes close. When my little man runs towards me, shouting Teeeeeee! and flings his arms around me, I feel euphoric!!! I’m still struggling with things but the progress me and little man have made, is unbelievable.
This little guy, is my greatest achievement. He is beautiful and funny and growing into one heck of a little character. I love him, and he loves me too. We’ve come so far this past year, and we have so much more to look forward to.
I regret those days I didn’t like him very much. I regret feeling like he hated me. I regret trying to leave him. How could I possibly do that to him? I’m sorry little man, but I’m getting there.
Today you smashed a cup, smeared choclate over cushions, peed on the bathroom floor, spilt milk all over the tiles, tossed blocks everywhere, bashed my laptop keys and screen, persisted with thr destruction that only a toddler boy can muster…. but I don’t care.
You are my world, you are all that really matters. You are my “Hah wah!”
This time last year, I genuinely feared that my son hated me. One year on and I have a total anaconda on my hands!
Teeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!; I hear bellowing relentlessly around the house. I hope he always calls me Tee.
He clutches to my leg and wraps himself around me, he demands that only I take him for his pee pees and ony I will do at bedtime. There is no doubt that he loves me, no doubt that he sees me as his protector and play mate, but oh my word; it’s exhausting!!!!
My father has always been the more affectionate of my parents. He has tried to shower us with kisses and hugs and warmth at times, and I’ve always awkwardly recieved them, often pulling away from him.
That is how my mum reacts and that is how I’ve learned to react. It seems a little cruel to me now, that I’ve essentially shot him down so many times, despite wishing my mum would act more like him.
Psychology has helped me to realise that my father really loves me, and that I give love, much like he does. I will no longer shoot him down. I will hug him with all my might, I will phone him more, and I will end every call, with ;”I love you too Dad”.
I’ve already started, and you know what; it’s awesome…