Unmasked

Today I had my second CBT appointment. Why does it hurt so much and feel so wrong to think about myself? (And by that, I mean think clearly and truthfully about myself, not that I have never put myself first; I may play the martyr on occasion, but I'm certainly no saint).

It would seem that, in order to deal properly with my depression I first have to address my "social anxiety." I personally thought these things were one and the same, but on closer examination the social anxiety has been with me far longer and is contributing to my move from the mild depression I could cope with (with occasional counselling sessions in times of stress) to the moderate depression that now has me taking medication just to be able to function from one day to the next.

Today's session made me realise that I have been locked in a cycle of unhealthy "masking & coping" activities since I was about 5 years old, and that the things I thought were just part of me being me were actually my mind's attempts at dealing with the situations that scared me. And (giant blow to my ego here) those behaviours I engaged in are very typical. Almost boringly so.

Stopping drinking alcohol was the thing that made my anxiety come to the surface. I knew I was using it as a crutch to get through social situations, but hadn't realised the extent to which I relied on it. People use alcohol and drugs because they work. They numb the pain, mask the anxiety, shut down the awful voice in your head that tells you you are not good enough and never will be. Problem is, in not facing up to these feelings, they get bigger and stronger. They feed on the weakness left behind by avoidance.

I am not saying I'll never drink alcohol again, I still occasionally have a small glass of wine with my dinner, but I never want to end up needing it just to function. I've seen first hand what that does to a person. It's not pretty, especially when it's someone you love and look up to. My kids deserve better than that.

So, am I strong enough to keep going with this process? I don't know. It really, really hurts and I am scared of finding out that underneath all my barriers is someone I don't recognise and don't like. But I'm going to try.

The Dark Place

I'm skirting around the edges of the dark place again. I have an urge to run away to somewhere quiet and cold and green with no distractions. My mind is filled with noise and heat and fear and disgust and it's exhausting just to be.

I have been avoiding speaking to people again. Writing, e-mails, text-messages etc. are all fine. I can control what I say and delay sending if I don't trust my state of mind when writing them, but face-to-face and phonecalls are a terrifying prospect at the moment.

The problem with feeling like this is that the very people I should be turning to, my family (both immediate and extended), are the ones I instinctively want to avoid because I am so scared of hurting, or being hurt by, them. They mean too much to me and I couldn't bear it. Anyone but them.

I know that this is unhealthy. I know that my brain is malfunctioning and playing tricks on me, but I don't have the energy at the moment to fight it. I am hoping that my CBT appointment next week will help me to find a way of being quiet and still despite the noise and chaos that surrounds me, because those things aren't going anywhere any time soon and I need to be able to manage my response to them.

One of "THOSE" mums

Today I was one of “THOSE” mums:

The ones who are so disorganised and caught up in other things that they forget one child’s school is breaking up a day earlier than the other, and thus also closing 90mins earlier than usual. 

The ones who are in a meeting and unable to take calls when their child’s school rings half-an-hour after all the other children have gone home. 

The ones who arrive teary and out of breath within half-an-hour of receiving the call to find that the emergency contact has been called and has had to leave work because he too can’t reach anyone as my phone is engaged trying to ring the school back and my partner’s phone is on divert to mine because the battery died.

The ones who then have to spend ages reassuring their stressed-out, worried child that everything’s OK, nobody’s hurt and “wasn’t mummy silly for getting her days all mixed up” 

The ones who always mess up in ways and at times that inconvenience the most people possible.

The ones you always hear being complained about by parents and teachers alike. 

The ones you have probably complained about at one time or another (I know I have).

The ones who really wish that work life balance was truly achievable, rather than just appearing to be the case because the hours fit around each other when everything is going to plan.

Today I was one of “THOSE” mums, and it’s much, much worse being one than having to deal with the inconvenience caused by one.

Don't Panic!

This morning I had my first appointment for Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). I was so nervous about it that I left home without doing my usual last minute check to make sure I had everything. Big mistake.

The session itself was fine. As it was our first meeting, the whole hour was taken up with investigating why I had been referred, what I felt were the major issues I wanted to address and coming up with a statement of where I am now and where I would like to be.

It was only when I left that I realised my head was pounding from the effort of trying to put my feelings into words. It was a real struggle to answer some of the questions. There are some things about my current irrationality that I just don't understand (and I hated being put on the spot).

I decided to go home and have a cup of tea to calm myself down before heading to work, but found that I had left my door-keys at home. This set off an anxiety attack of exactly the type I had just tried to explain: my face went all hot, tears were flooding down my face and my breathing became very shallow & rapid. I sat on a bench in the churchyard near the Health Centre and just gave in to it. I couldn't do anything else. At least there was nobody else around to witness it.

Here's the bit where I become proud of myself:

I stopped.

I wiped my eyes clear of the tears, took a deep breath and thought about how I could make things right. I couldn't have done that two months ago. I am ready for this now.

So I am really hopeful that the CBT will help me to shorten (or ideally bypass completely) the bit where I panic and give in. I can be rational. I can fix things that go wrong. I just need to get to a place where I really believe this.

Memory

Blink.

The sun plays an insistent beat on my eyelids.

Blink | beat.

You jump on my chest and giggle as the breath comes out of me in a giant "whoosh"

"Wake up Mummy"

I smile and turn over on my side, twisting you around so that we are nose-to-nose, foreheads touching and your toes tickle my tummy as you try to curl up in the space where the roundness of the bump that used to contain you still refuses to budge.

You stroke the hairs on my arm, flash me a huge, sunny smile and say "I'm softing you" and my heart bursts.

We have finally bonded. It is only now that I realise we hadn't before.

To my children.

You are beautiful and intelligent and funny. You brighten my days and make me want to be a better person.

You are not perfect (who is?) but you can break my heart with a smile as much as with angry words and hurtful actions.

You are magical and wonderful and terrible and I love you so much.

If I ever made you feel small, I am sorry. I have been made to feel that way and I know how much it hurts.

If I ever made you feel stupid, I didn't mean to. Sometimes my impatience with my own inadequacies makes me harsh with you when I see you making the same mistakes as I have, over and over again.

I cannot promise that I will always be there. I cannot promise that I will not make mistakes. I cannot promise that I will never hurt you with my words or actions. I cannot promise that I will always understand.

I do promise you that I will try my very best not to hurt you. I promise that I will always admit to you when I've got something wrong and that I will apologise. I promise to do my best to give you the tools you need to be happy, healthy and productive.

I promise I will love you always, no matter what.

Standing on the shoulders of giants

A while ago now I read this blog: Standing on the shoulders of giants by Samyogita (@Hardigirl on twitter). As it is intended to be a collaborative blog, I've been trying to think about what I could contribute. You see, I haven't really done the things I thought I'd do when I was younger. I have a fairly ordinary job, I haven't travelled very much, I didn't go to university, become an astronaut/teacher/policewoman, get married, buy a house...the list of things I was inspired to do by teachers, authors, film-makers, but didn't get around to doing, is endless. The one thing on my list I have done is become a mum.

If I am a good parent, it's because of my own Mum. She gave (and still gives) the kind of hugs that make the world go away and everything feel safe. Any faults she may have had (and we all have them) were insignificant because she was always there and on my side when I really needed her. She taught me that the best thing you can do for your kids (apart from let them know that they are loved) is give them a safe space in which to make mistakes & get hurt (even if she did her best to prevent us doing so) while setting boundaries, teaching personal responsibility and showing that everyone makes mistakes but it doesn't matter as long as you learn something from them.

So the giant on whose shoulders I'm standing, the person who most helped to shape who I am today, is not famous. She has not won any awards, had books or articles written about her, she's not "powerful" in any sense of the word but she is very important to me.

Being Selfish

I've hit the dark place again, the one that occasionally blindsides me and temporarily knocks all the colour out of my life, but this time it's affecting my ability to work and to cope with even the most minor of setbacks.

It's possible for me to feel like this and still appear outwardly OK. If I stay busy, or am out and about doing fun things, I'm absolutely fine. But when I stop and there's no one around to be strong for, it feels like my breath has been taken away and there's a sadness and emptiness that I just can't explain. Then the tears start, and they don't stop. And if they witness this, the people I love start to look concerned, which just makes it worse. So I try to hide the full intensity of it, because if I don't then I have other people's reactions to worry about and I just don't have the emotional resources to do that.

This is when I make contact with my counsellor and feel the intense relief of speaking to someone impartial, detached and to whom I can tell my darkest, scariest thoughts without fear. Someone who can be rational, unemotional and give me practical support and strategies to get back to where I need to be, to be well again. But this time she's not answering her phone and there's no answer service like there was before.

There are just too many demands sometimes. And I know people who cope better with worse situations and far less support than I do, but I can't help how I feel. I am now waiting to be assigned a new counsellor and trying to decide about medication when I'm really in no fit state to make any serious decisions. Besides, counselling alone has always been sufficient before, but then work was always my safe place and respite before.

Lately it has become a place of constant change, increasing demands and the culture change we are undergoing at the moment makes me fear that I cannot do what they require of me without turning into someone I hate. I am hoping that counselling will help me figure out whether I feel that way because I'm depressed, or I've become depressed because I feel that way. The thought of leaving a job I've done for the best part of 15 years scares me, but I'm even more scared of losing myself.

This is not a bid for sympathy or a cry for help. I will be fine. I know how this works and I have people, both friends and family, that I can call on when I'm ready to. Until now it's always been possible, and easier, to get through it without admitting to them what's going on. Because as much as they want to help and feel terrible that I don't ask, their emotions overwhelm me and make me feel worse.

If certain of these people read this, it will hurt them because I've not really spoken to them about it in any detail. And I'm sorry for that, but knowing that they all have their own problems to deal with makes the words stick in my throat when I try to tell them in person. I am comfortable owning up to my failings here. The act of writing rather than speaking allows me the distance I need in order to be honest.

I'm not sure if posting this is a good idea or not. I've already posted and almost instantly deleted it twice. But I've got a feeling I won't be able to write anything else until I get this out of my system and, who knows, it might even help.

I am not stupid

Yesterday I watched this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ER74aA3Rhjo and found myself nodding in agreement and wanting to hug the person responsible for it.

It has long been a bugbear of mine that otherwise intelligent and knowledgeable people often seem unable to get their point across without being dismissive or insulting towards those who have not "heard" their message.

As a parent of an autistic child, I have become embroiled in discussions about homeopathic remedies, reiki, special diets...the list of anecdotally successful remedies is endless. And I have tried most of them at one time or another, because when you haven't slept properly for several days and you can see your child is in distress you will try ANYTHING.

I will freely admit that, if any of them had appeared to work, I'd have stuck with them until they no longer did. Even whilst knowing that they were probably useless. Because desperation and sleep deprivation make being rational really difficult.

If I feel this way, as someone who will always trust the opinion of the professionals dealing with my child, imagine how alienated someone with a bias towards alternative therapies, and a belief that the MMR causes autism, feels when they are told they are "stupid" or sarcastically congratulated for giving their child and others a death sentence by not vaccinating them.

I understand the frustration inherent in trying to explain to someone that their beliefs have no basis in fact. As "the lady with the autistic child" I am often asked by nervous parents whose children are approaching the age for their MMR whether I think it caused his autism.

I tell them that in my opinion there is no connection. That, had he not been my first child, I might have picked up on the signs that, with hindsight, were there from approx. 6 months and that, although at the time I had my doubts, I chose to vaccinate because I preferred the risk of autism to the risk of my, or someone else's, child being exposed to a potentially fatal illness. I then tell them that it is a choice only they can make.

It is not my place to tell them what to do, they are the ones who will live with their decision. I can only give them the information I have, direct them to credible sources and hope. Telling someone their fears are stupid will guarantee that they do not hear your message. 

So if you want to get your point across and educate people without alienating them or insulting their intelligence, follow the example set in this video. Please. Speaking as one of the people you are trying to reach, I am desperate, scared, guilt-ridden and sometimes ill-informed. I am vulnerable, not stupid.

Warning! Contains feelings

How are you?

This is the question I most dread. Do I give the usual, expected response: a variation on "fine thanks, how are you?" or do I tell the truth?

The truth is, my feelings (and sanity-levels) can change in a split-second. I spent most of the last 10 years not looking after myself and fooling myself into thinking I was making things easier for everyone else. In reality I was slowly disappearing and becoming little more than a cause & effect toy - "wind me up and watch me go."

I have been trying to rediscover some of the fearlessness of my younger self: the person once described in a letter from a friend as "infuriating, electric and restless." I barely remember her, but it was fun being her. She was generous, gregarious, reckless with friendships and useless with money (otherwise known as "young").

I've had some successes: I have a social life again - not as much as I would like, but it's early days yet. I have met some really lovely, amazing people over the last year-or-so and found a couple of new friends who, from day one, I felt comfortable with. Like I'd known them forever. Is that strange?

I am also reading again and loving every minute I spend with a good book. ALL of my boys are having trouble adjusting to this as I often get so lost in the narrative that I don't hear them clamouring for attention. It doesn't do them any harm to see me withdraw sometimes, in fact they seem to want my input more than ever now.

But the lows are still there. I'm still a little bit broken, but better than I was and in mending myself I am making my family stronger. I am writing this as a reminder to myself to stay on track. Because old, bad habits die hard and I can't afford to go back.