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?
So today we took the sides off little mans cotbed. New bedding thrilled him and new soft furnishings to match are on their way.
I’m sad and proud in equal measure. On one hand he’s growing up too fast, on the other he’s turning into quite the little character.
I still feel guilt for those months I spent away from him, but we’re having more fun now than we ever did before.
Today was spent mostly in our back yard, digging sand, eating at his own little plastic house, filling a wagon with stones, and beaming from ear to ear as he went about amusing himself.
Good weather helps a lot. Good weather allows outdoor play and better parenting. Indeed good weather lifts my mood.
Tonight we may not get much sleep. Toys in darkness and no bars to stop him, may be just too tempting for our little man. .
Today has been fantastic. The sun was out, little man was in good form, and a dear friend came to visit.
For the first time in quite a while, I felt…. . I felt normal. I was in control of household chores, in control of little man, and in control of my emotions. There were no inexplicable outbursts today, no desires to burn and no little voice in my head telling me I’m awful.
To see my friend, who is doing so well, was great. We played with little man, walked on the beach and basked in our freedom.
I need to remember today. I need to hold on to this good feeling and remind myself when dark clouds ascend; that I am capable off normal, I am capable of laughing and smiling with a friend. I am capable of finding joy whilst dancing with my 2 y.ear old.
Tonight I shall begin prep for a lecture I’m due to give on Friday Tonight it doesn’t feel so daunting
There will be more good days Loopy. Honestly there will.
The battle lines were drawn. He glared at me steadfast, and confident. There was only ever going to be one winner here.
No I will not use a spoon today Mummy! I will eat my beef and mash on my terms, or I shall starve!!!!!
You’ve got to admire the stubberness off a 2 year old. We can usually count on him to swallow grub without protest, handling cutlery like a pro.
Some battles are worth fighting and simetimes when sleep depruved and alone it’s just easier to wait whilst this little human, slowly and infuriatingly sucks beef and mash from a 5ml paracetamol syringe.
This evening would be spent powerhosing every nook and cranny of his little pudgy arms and legs. There was much fun had running and rolling down sand dunnes and I knew that he would harbour kilograms of the stuff and gleefully sprinkle it on kitchen tiles, staircase carpets and bedroom floors upon our return home. I will deal with that tomorrow!!!
Now though, it’s bath time. A whiff of something in the air indicated the need for a gentle pre wipe. I whipped his nappy off, dealt with his thoughtful little gift, and stood him, bare bummed and smiling by our bath.
I quickly nipped out to grab his PJ’s and upon my return, there they were, glistening and golden on my bathroom floor;
3 little puddles………….
Today was huge!!!! gut wrenching, nausea inducing huge. After 6 months of absence, I made a lunch, adorned my lanyard, swallowed some PRN (lirazepam) and went back to work.
I’m currently sitting in my old office, albeit slightly rearranged. I asked my boss if I could have it back; and he said he’d think about it, but within 20 minutes following our meeting I was informed that its current occupant has been turfed out, giving me my space back. My office space is something that is important to me. I’m on the 3rd floor of the building which means that I’m not subjected to same levels of student traffic as the main teaching rooms are on the floors below. Being “hidden away ” in this manner means less ad hoc student drop ins, less ad hoc concerns, complaints or general chat, which can quickly eat away at time preserved for tasks. I’ll still get the occasional knock but with less frequency than staff on the lower floors.
Coming back to work has been very emotional for me and I’m still feeling a little shaky and overwhelmed. Colleagues have been lovely, with hugs and offers of coffee and no prying questions. I’ve just eaten lunch with a few but i really didn’t participate much in the conversion. I’ve lost that side off myself, lost all my confidence but it will hopefully come back.
A nice little work related task just appeared in my inbox this morning, not from my manager but from one of my previous students, who is applying for PhD’s. I was his undergraduate project supervisor and he wishes to use me as a reference. I am delighted to do that for him, and even more so because his email helped to ground me this morning. His email was my first interaction with any students albeit electronically., but it also provided me with an icebreaker manageable task to get my fingers typing and my mindset back to work. It was exactly what I needed. It also helps that he was a great student, and his reference will reflect that.
I’m now emotionally and physically drained, and really just need to go home. I shall leave soon.
Father Christmas had a lot on his plate this year. He’s been around for centuries, so the poor fella is bound to be going a little senile. With millions of children and gifts to sort; its not surprising really that items could end up lost or forgotten.
From what I’ve heard, he was fairly heavily medicated this year; and so I can only assume that his often drug induced defuddled state; is accountable for the art easel I uncovered today in our bedroom wardrobe.
I wonder if he’s forgotten anything else?
Well it’s official, I’m going back to work. It took some lies and half truths, but the doc eventually agreed it will be good for me.
I’ve read his report;;” I recommend that Dr. Loopy is completely supernumarery for the first couple off weeks” This makes me feel a bit pathetic. I can return but not be entrusted with anything. I can return but treat me delicately or I might crack.
I’m at the stage where I do need to go back. Financially we can’t struggle on any longer and I need another reason to get up in the morning.
I’m scared though; absolutely petrified that I’ll crumble again. I’ve not recovered to quite the extend I would have hoped for by now.
I guess I’ll never truly know how I’ll cope until I try. So tomorrow I shall phone my boss and set the wheels in motion.