Today I was able to face time little man. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in about 3 weeks. He seems to be doing ok which is good, but mum guilt has certainly kicked in. I’ve abandoned him again.
Family have once more raised concerns about his social skills. I really wish they wouldn’t. Now is not the time.
I do worry about him. I do still think he shows ASD traits and it’s a fact that he is speech delayed, but I can’t face that right now.
There are some huge changes ahead. Changes that will hopefully make little man’s upbringing better. The problem is, I’m not good with change. I’m flipping constantly between hope and suicidal despair. It’s exhausting.
Back on the ward now, and I’ve burned.
I can no longer cope. I’m reduced to tears at the slightest thing. My anxiety is intolerable and today we’ve been dealt another blow. Our landlord is selling our house. A house on a prime location, on a friendly street, a stone’s throw from the beach and little man’s nursery. I’m more than devastated. I’ve gone ten rounds with life, and it’s left me battered, bruised and done!!
Today in sheer desperation, before our house news, I reached out for help. I did what I am always told to do. I rang my CPN. She was unavailable but the voice on the line promised me someone, either C, or the “duty” would call me back.
No one did……………
I have work to do. Quite a bit infact and given my recent slow pace, I need to crack on. Try saying that to a two year old!!. He bashed on my labptop keys, grabbed and clawed at my hands, demanded an endless supply of food and drinks and attention and quite frankly made marking assignmnets nion impossible. OH works many weekends and we have no one else to turn to for support on days like this.
Working under these conditions had the sensation of hearing nails on a chalkborad!!. I can’t be all things to all people and its stressing me out. Today I was crap at everything. Extremely inefficient at marking, irritable as heck (my feedback might be a little harsh!) and neglectful as a mother.
On top of that, my mood has been nothing short of erratic. I swung quite violently from alsmost resigning from my job, to suicidal, to hopeful, back to suicidal and so the day went. I’ve eaten far too many carbs in an attempt to find comfort and I’ve burned (Again!)
Last night, i did find sleep on my new regimen but it was broken, and I spent alot of time looking at my watch. I eat more when I’m tired. Tonight I want to knock myself out, but i won’t.
Tomorrow I face another day of nails on a chalkboard.
I’m supposed to be tapering of zopiclone this week. I’m supposed to stop taking more than 15mg. I’m supposed to get a frigging grip, but I can’t do it.
My arms are a total mess, but no one has asked me directly how I’m doing on that score, so I’ve kept it to myself.
I feel out of control and stupid. I feel unwell, and I know that it’s my own fault. I’ve not been able to hit the gym whilst OH was away, so the guilt took hold ensuring I expelled most meals to some extent, before digestion.
This morning started fairly brightly. I had fun with spotty little man out on his balance bike. He’s getting rather good.
By evening I’d crumbled, burned and binged. Then binged some more..
My CPN will see me wednesday as will a nursery nurse to discuss little man’s delayed speech.
I’m disgusting and stupid, and crap at parenting and there isn’t a pill in the world that can fix that.
Nursery had an outbreak a few weeks ago. I’ve been watching little man closely, and this weekend; BOOM!
The spots are literally erupting before my eyes. We could really be doing without this right now. I’m going to have to take time off work. I’m not in any position to asking for time off, given my recent episodes.
Little man is grumpy. Indeed I would be too. I’ve had them as a child, but oh dear, tonight I’m feeling rather itchy.
Let’s hope it’s just a psychological reaction to having pox in our house. My immune system is probably already working overdrive. Can it cope with chicken pox?
I left work an hour early. I had errands to run. I needed to swing by a pharmacy (20 mins each way) , pick up my newly serviced bike, and be back in time to pick little man up from nursery.
But then…….. what a flipping Muppet, I missed my train stop! I’d gone 3 stops past before I noticed!!!!! This pretty much sums up my head off late. I’m just not functioming properly.
Now I’m home alone with a very grumpy toddler. It’s just us, this weekend. OH has had to fly home to see his Dad before a big heart op next week.
I’m not sure I’m going to cope. Physically I’m not feeling great, and mentally, I’m quite unstable.
On the bright side, my bike feels like new.
I was on the brink. I was alone and I was vulnerable so I called my CPN. By the time she called me back, I had calmed a little. I’m glad I phoned her though. I’m warming to her quickly and I’m getting more comfortable talking to her
But when I make these calls, they often ask; “what would make you feel better, or make things easier?”
Honestly I don’t know! There is no one thing that can be fixed to miracoulously cure me. It is, I guess a culmination of lots of little thongs. My hatred for my albinism, my struggles with my fear of gaining weight, my family isolation, my inability to drive,my emotionally absent, or rather equally drained partner, my stressful job, my mum guilt and my worries for little man, my feelings of worthlessness and incompetence, my head fuzz, forgetfulness and confusion (probably drug induced) and my inability to sleep.
There are 3 things right now that are probably slowly killing me. My dependence on zopiclone, my persistent self burning, and my regular binge/purge cycles.
Not one of these has yet come up in therapy, since losing K. This new therapist, although kind, is not the right fit for me.
How do I tell her?