So, the ‘important’ days I’ve got through, with no more suicidal ideation.  But my mood remains lower than base.  Far lower than normal.  All I want to do is sleep and avoid everyone.

I felt so paranoid and such a sense of impending doom that I asked my ex husband if I could borrow a golf club.  I used to have one under the bed in times of panic.  I’ve not required anything like that, and my fear with a knife, is that in a moment of terrible gloom, I might self harm.  So now I have this golf club under my bed.  In my head I have considered all the different places for it, and when I might use it and how I might go about prioritising my phone over the club!  It probably all sounds crazy, but I want to be prepared for all possibilities.  And this time of year there are spontaneous criminals looking for some easy money.  ultimately I don’t feel safe.  I feel vulnerable, which I consider a weakness.  But it’s also this feeling of a dragging anchor, keeping me from reaching air.

Because S took the older girls to see a movie today, I’ve promised my youngest two a movie tomorrow, I even booked the tickets to stop myself from cancelling on them.  I’m not looking forward to it at all, but I’ve decided that after the movie, I will drop them back with S and then spend some time alone.  I’ve had the kids a lot or been up at the house, and I’m feeling really overwhelmed.  I thought S might interject today and help when I left, so that the kids wouldn’t beg to stay at mine again.  I feel powerless to their asking.  He’s more interested in his computer games.  I could feel my tension rising.  He’s made dinner a couple of times (nice dinner) and taken the kids out.  Now its like he’s done his bit and he’s switched off. I’m not having that, when he’s back to work, I have all the kids for the duration of their school summer holidays and without getting my mojo back ,it will be a struggle.  I need some support.  Not least because the depression is wrapping itself tightly around me.

I need to keep going, but everything feels so hard.  I can’t really think straight.  I’m finding myself easily confused and forgetful.  Even reading – my wonderful form of escapism is getting harder.  I feel like my brain is giving up on me and I don’t want that.  I don’t want to spiral lower.  I need to get over this.


Xmas day blessings and suicide

I don’t know, I guess the lure of hanging myself provided too an intense relief not to consider. I read about it, you know, cutting off the cortoid artery in a gentle motion and gradually losing oxygen to the point of unconsciousness. I used to dream of sleeping tablets and walking into the ocean, the beautiful depths pulling me away into peace. But over the years there was practical sense in asphyxiation. No use of services searching for my body, no risk of being found by an innocent. Death at my own dictation. Perhaps music, photos surrounding me as I departed this sad old earth. 

I thought about taking out insurance, not wanting my kids to go without. Arranging all of my bills so S wouldn’t have any layover and could claim I was thoughtless. 

How bitter sweet the relief of death. No more nightmares, no more pain no more struggling. And yet, my beautiful children. My legacy left to leave then bitter, confused alone.

I owe them more than that. 

So although I would personally like to leave this world and it’s darkness, I owe it to my beautiful children to be there. 

S has really accomodated me this Xmas. Dinner, less involvement, rest times. He’s been the perfect host. I couldn’t ask for more. I don’t think I’ve seen an Xmas through with as much peace and safety. 

How amazing are my children? So different from each other. Each beautiful and with exquisite qualities. If I hadn’t have insisted each baby stay by my side after birth, I might consider that there’d been a mistake.

How can these guys, so beautiful, so amazing, have come from me?

Xmas has been a calm affair. I’ve managed my anxiety by way of managing the tidiness and organising. It soothes to have everything in it’s place. I feel less worthless and things feel more in my grasp of control.

I feel so lucky this Xmas. So blessed.

And yet this tender sadness ravishes my soul as I lie here in my bed in my home alone.

I’m grateful, yet I’m lonely. I’m happy and yet I’m deeply sad. 

Xmas – the worst time of year! Us with our depression and PTSD. How can it ever be as joyful as it is for everyone else?

The night before xmas

Thursday was pretty eventful as day’s go.  For me anyway.

I’ve had this, well, I’ll save you the details but lets say ‘lady problems.’  I had been putting off seeing a dr because I had not long had my smear and that hurt like hell and was generally just awful.  Just because I’ve had 4 children, doesn’t mean anything in that department is easy.  But it really was adding to my symptoms of PTSD, the feeling of being dirty.  I seemed to be showering constantly, scrubbing myself raw, and within minutes feeling the urge to do it all over again.

I made an urgent appointment with a female gp and unfortunately had to be examined.  Painful doesn’t really cut it.  It was BAD.  But at least I have a better idea of whats going on.  And to be honest, I’m glad I went.  But the bleeding has been pretty intense.

I went on to see my counsellor, it was a coincidence that my day panned out like that.  But a good one!  Although I started off very distanced and chatted about inane things, it finally came out about the problems I’d been having and the subsequent examination.  The night before the appointment I had a terrible nightmare.  Not abstract like usual, a graphic replay of events of the rape.  I talked about that with my counsellor, I’ve never talked in details before with her.  I also talked about the sense of being unclean.  How I used to scrub myself with household cleaning products to try to rid myself of this film of grime I felt.  Its one of those things that seems to flare up occasionally, although I’ve not suffered such an intense bout for a long time.

I found things coming up and talking about them without realising the enormity of what I was sharing.  I haven’t discussed issues of such a private nature before.  At times I felt emotional, at times my mind wandered back to exact moments in time, with the clarity of a movie, and I felt periods of frustration and anger.  I hadn’t wanted to get as deep particularly with xmas looming and knowing there would be a break between sessions, but I guess my mind felt it was time.  The hour passed quickly.  So many vulnerabilities and fears shared.  I felt scraped out but yet lighter for it.

My next journey was on to the city to see a friend of mine in hospital.  The driving allowed me down time to defrag and put my mind on the task ahead.  It was great to see her and catch up.

I am feeling surprised at my ability to share so openly with the therapist.  I prefer to keep a little piece of me removed, save myself from emotional fall out.

Today is xmas eve, the time of year I am usually depressed and struggling through. But this time, expectations are low.  I am staying at my house tonight, then heading up to the house tomorrow.  I will be there for my children, but equally distanced enough to save that crushing blow that happens every year.  And of course this year is our first year as a separated family, but luckily S and I have found more civil ground to dance around on.

Just got to get through it!


This week has already begun at a snails pace. I’m already feeling over wrought and fed up. Two of my daughters are still at school, so the morning routine scrapes painfully, although when they’re off school it’ll be stressful, at least the morning rush can stop. And S is off work, so he can have the kids more. Again, not that I don’t enjoy them, I adore my children, but I’m feeling increasingly anxious about Xmas.

I think it’s fair to say most people in NZ seem a bit lost and fed up. We had the earthquakes and flooding and Spring was a cold wash out. It’s officially summer and it’s not started particularly well. Strong winds, rain and the sunny days are  generally muggy. Everyone seems to be struggling financially and there is an air of despondency and impatience. 

For me, I’m in a state of stasis. My days slowly grow into each other, so I never know what day is it because they’re always the same. I’m slowly churning in thick mud. It’s hard to stay focussed, alert and present.

I’ve still not heard anything from the UK, I find my mind drifts back there, questioning everything and I doubt now I’ll hear anything until the new year. If at all. 

I’m restless from therapy exposing raw wounds and trying to manage feelings and thoughts from those conversations.

I gave in to the need to tidy S’s house on the Sunday. The piles of laundry, the kids rooms, the rubbish, it was too troubling for me, especially as my children live there. S made some comments about nothing looking different. I let it go, I didn’t do it for him. I had worked for a good couple of hours and the wheelie bin was full!

I haven’t heard anymore from the guy I went on a date with, whose family member was killed. I expect I won’t now. It must be such an awful time for him and his family. But I selfishly miss the connection we had.

I have my last therapy session on Thursday for a few weeks. I need to put some work into what I hope to achieve. I need to leave with something inspiring and some hope to last the few weeks without the therapy.

I hate this feeling of pressure this time of year. I hate that financially I’m not settled, independent and secure. I hate the uncertainty of the new year. Although  I’m trying to see it as a positive opportunity to start afresh, my feeling of gloom and fear is that it will continue to be the same.

Mostly I feel so depressed. Not suicidal, just a consuming melancholy. Uncomfortable. Binding. Smothering.

Sea of sadness

Yesterday I felt really like I might be losing it. The ongoing therapy sessions, the pending issue in the U.K, long hours with the kids with S working and networking, a reaction to the depo I had making me feel really ill, the nightmares, the panic, the typical stresses of Xmas (a separated family, finances, etc). Over tired, over whelmed, at one point I got so furious with a driver for not indicating at every roundabout I lept out of my car and flew into a rage, complete with waving arms and banshee screaming.

When S finally got back from work – felt like the slowest day ever, I was already in my car waiting to leave. Desperate for freedom, desperate for space to breathe. 

I got back home and was greeted by music so loud by my neighbours that my whole house shook and I couldn’t hear anything above the noise. I knew I was probably going to twist myself into a million knots, so made a last minute decision to drive over to where we used to live. I miss the beach, the friendliness.

Plimmerton- beautiful as ever.

I was gripped with guilt for not taking the kids, they’d have loved it. But frankly I needed time out. I needed to be able to drive on my own schedule and not worry about the needs of anyone else – for once. I soaked up the atmosphere, couples and families. And enjoyed a meal of fish and chips.

When i returned home, the noise had thankfully stopped, so I was able to crawl into bed and read until sleep consumed me.

This morning was cold and wet. I didn’t have the kids with me, so the peace and lack of demanding was nice. I could easily have stayed in bed but I had an appointment to see my therapist – a much needed appointment.

I felt so tired and drained I didn’t know how to articulate my thoughts and feelings to her. She said I was too busy over thinking things and not feeling enough. But I’m able to recognise a deep rooted sadness in me, that frankly I don’t have the time or energy to work through. 

I was able to clarify succinct thoughts and feelings though that really helped;

1, I don’t begrudge S working the long hours or the networking. I don’t want the career, with the arrogant suits to enter into a pissing contest with. I enjoy looking after my children – I just need my energy levels back and focus.

2, I’m feeling fragmented. Overwhelmed and lost. The UK case is complex and until its finished I won’t be able to find closure.

3, I did enjoy my date. I liked being seen as a woman, an easy companionable evening with no complexities or anxieties. Despite the family death the next morning which may have hampered our affections, I can take that night with me and all that I enjoyed. 

4, I am sad. I am very sad and in that pain – which is part of the healing process, I feel vulnerable. I feel more vulnerable than normal. So I have to expect emotional outbursts. I have to be more aware of my body than my mind.

In essence, my therapist told me it was ok to feel like this. I guess I needed it quantified and I needed permission. 

My thoughts are so long and complex and so full of self loathing. I took a bath the other night because the kids were getting too much and I just needed some time, especially as my body feels so sore. I must have been in there for 10 minutes when all hell broke loose. My youngest daughter threw a remote at my son and in turn it cut his head. As I rushed out the bath to care for my son and clean his wound thoughts of, this is my fault, I shouldn’t have taken a bath filled my head. My daughter was devastated and genuinely so remorseful she was more upset than him! I cleaned him up and we cuddled and watched movies and I gave him all the love and care I had. A fleeting thought of, I wish someone could do this for me. To care, to reassure, to hold. It caught me off guard, to wish to feel nurtured.

The rest of this afternoon has been tedious, Xmas shoppers, parking is hard, just popping into the chemist and it’s busy and takes ages. Everything feels just really hard. I grabbed a sandwich (from a really busy gas station) and felt every cent that went into filling up my tank. Trying to maintain some sort of budget over this period is really hard.

Then to collect kids. And there it goes all again. Same routine. 

I don’t even know what I need (aside from a holiday!). I don’t know how to help myself. I don’t know how to become a better mother. I don’t know how to feel less lost. Most of all, I don’t know how to let this sadness go. I don’t know how to grieve and allow this hurt it’s place.


I don’t feel like I’m doing very well.  Last therapy session was so intense.  I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it.  Then I had a date with a really nice guy that I knew from a while ago, I assumed it was more ‘catching up’ but we both evidently have feelings for each other and we had a great, really fun time together.  Then his sister was killed, I didn’t know her, but its taken a huge toll on him and his family – naturally.  So things have stalled there.

For me, the death is reminder of all the ugly in the world, and whilst I was able to have a good time, it won’t last because something has to come along and remind me of all that is bad with the world.

I’m feeling really down and lethargic.  Panic levels really high and most of the time I feel on the brink of a panic attack.

I’ve had some wicked nightmares, I’m tired and fed up.

I took my daughter back for another appointment today to investigate her heart further.  She was really good – quite how she manages the intrusion is beyond me, but I was able to stay calm for her and look out for her.

But that’s like the residual energy I had.  Spent.

My kids have been spending a lot of time with me, which is chipping away at my emotions because I have to work to stay blank.  S is being his usual shut off and uncaring self.  Which doesn’t surprise me.

I’m just not feeling good at all.  There is no other point of this blog than to try to and express my misery and lethargy.  As I have no other outlet until therapy and I’m worried that I’m becoming so unable to be present, it will catch up with me.

It’s not even 6pm ,but I’m going to read in bed and then hopefully fall asleep.


I saw my therapist today. I’d been anticipating the appointment for ages, eager to relinquish a lot of deep seated grief and confusion compounded by an unrelenting trigger. One that I’ve never articulated before. As my car was under going work for its WOF, I had use of S’s car – as long as I dropped him at work. The drive from the city was good because it allowed me to focus on driving only and not my anxiety that had been gradually building in the lead up to today. 

I arrived nearly an hour early, but fortunately her office is within the Womens Centre, so I was able to relax on a sofa with a cup of tea. The waiting time didn’t help with my anxiety and I was self conscious that I was breathing like Darth Vader while I waited. In fact I started to reconsider bringing up anything that might make me uncomfortable.

As luck would have it, her previous client had to leave early, so she invited me in to start early. I felt myself go off on a tangent about irrelevant things – anything to detract from the fears inside.

But I intend to use therapy to benefit me and I need to work on my issues – although it feels easier to shun anything that’s painful or uncomfortable, ultimately I end up feeling better when I’ve been honest.

So I described in vivid detail the trigger. The aspects that frighten me most, the lingering feeling of fear and sadness so intense it’s breath taking.

I’m confused about how this particular trigger has come about. I’m also unsure why it’s bothering me so much now. I can’t think of anything that’s happened recently that would effectively trigger the trigger!

During our analysis of the trigger, I moved through a raft of feelings. The predominant one was sadness, but I also felt at times angry, confused and very small. Child like, fragile, exposing a great vulnerability to my therapist. The tendency to disassociate lingered ever stronger, and the urge to babble about less relevant things sometimes took over. I felt my insides creep and crawl. I wanted answers from my therapist – I wanted to see the horrific car crash – but what if I saw something so disturbing- I’d never be able to forget it?

My therapist told me some insightful experiences she’d had and tried to find a thread on which I could gently pull and unravel the darkest places in my heart.

Although I’ve been unable to attach the trigger to anything, I certainly feel like my insides were scraped out. I feel like I may have been on the precipice of something both profound and heartbreaking. 

When I left the session and drove home, I felt sick. Completely nauseous to my stomach, uncomfortable, awkward. A surface had been scratched and the feeling of deep sadness and shame has long since lingered with me.

I’m tired, more than usual after a session. A dull headache throbs. I want to sleep, really to avoid the feelings. Yet I also want to sleep to remember.

There is nothing as frightening and frustrating as wanting memories so badly – but fearing them with great velocity. An inner turmoil so great, I can quite empathise with the drinkers and the drug takers.

I need to be ready to pick up the kids soon. I need to be able to put this session aside and be present.

I feel raw and alone with this. 

Dr Freud, and the work ahead

A lot has happened since I last posted, although not much in terms of progress I suppose.  Still very much ticking along and trying to find my way.

The monthly support group had a special weekend intensive course that I mentioned was coming up.  About 25 women attended, of various ages and backgrounds.  It was as to be expected, pretty intense!  But it was incredibly empowering, seeing these different women open their hearts, cry openly, talk about their pain, there is peace and comfort to be found with such strong women.  It’s so humbling to see women that have been the victims of the worst of mankind offer compassion and kindness to each other.   Lunch was a combination of offered foods, delicious, hearty meals, enjoyed amongst all of us.  A time to nurture our bodies and rest of the task of reliving and talking.

It was an overall cathertic experience, although it’s a shame there isn’t a follow-up one!

After the Sunday session, feeling raw and drained I drove to the house.  I intended to collect Caitlin for a hospital appointment the following morning.  I felt like crying on the drive there, but held back.  I guess when I arrived I expected S might offer some support, some recognition for the hard weekend.  I’m not sure why I had hoped for this, perhaps that he might care, might remember how difficult these processes are for me.  I was greeted by the kids, warmth and excitement that I feasted on.  Selfishly gathering them up and enjoying every single aspect of them.   Their love, their excitement to see me, their open smiles and affection.

As I walked around the house I stated to see the mess, the laundry, the discarded rubbish.  Then I saw S lying on the sofa.  complaining of being ‘exhausted’ because he had the kids all weekend.  I sat on the sofa and rather than offer a drink or enquire about the course, he moaned about the kids, complained about tiredness.  I felt so raw, I felt the disappointment like a knife wound.  I knew there was nothing at the house for me, aside from the kids.  I said I would take Caitlin, and while the younger two begged to come, I decided it wasnt a good idea because I was tired and emotional and didn’t want them to see me emotional.

When I got back to my house, I lay on the bed, tired, and I cried.  Big heaving sobs. I felt so alone and I missed my son and youngest daughter.  My eldest was set up on her laptop.  I decided that it didn’t matter if they saw me resting, or even saw me crying.  I wanted my babies with me.  I text S and asked him to bring them to me.  I got a snarky text about how they will work around me, and about it being about what I want etc.  I ignored it.

Egg and H were so happy to see me again!  They were delighted that ‘I’d missed them that much I’d asked Daddy to bring them down.’  We all just cuddled and relaxed together.  It was much-needed.  And I didn’t feel selfish for it at all.

Caitlin had her hospital appointment the following day. The last couple of weeks have been me driving around and looking after the kids while S works late.

I saw a locum psychiatrist yesterday, as the permanent left – not unsurprisingly.  There is no consistency with mental health care and it’s really unsettling and  inconvenient.  This temporary guy was probably one of the worst I’ve seen.  He was very old, dressed like you imagine an old-fashioned psychiatrist, I’m surprised he didn’t have a pocket watch.  He asked a myriad of questions, personal about my past, which I didn’t appreciate.  And when I stumbled for the dates, he read them out to me.  I’m not sure the point of that.  He queried my current medication, I explained I’d tried everything but this seemed to be the better of them all.  Then he began listing different ones that he ‘recommended’ to which I replied I had tried and had various side effects.  I sensed his urge to ‘fix’ me with a different combination of medications.  But it’s not like I haven’t exhausted every medication.  I explained my anxiety and he seemed less interested in that.  He wanted me to rate everything on a scale, mood, motivation, health, etc.  Which given the different contexts was hard to do.  Finally, after asking if my ex husband beat me up (?!) nice question in front of my son and with no reason to ask that, especially as we didn’t live together anymore, which Id corrected him twice on (don’t ask if you won’t listen), he finally wrote a prescription for me.  Then proceeded to tell me that a ‘nice walk’ would really help my mood.  Would be beneficial for my health and might want to take it up.  I wanted to click my fingers sarcastic and say, ‘nailed it,’ if only i knew that was the ‘cure’ a few years ago.  But my need for a new prescription over the Xmas period outweighed my smart mouth!

I ended up leaving his office feeling quite down.  He wasn’t helpful, he was patronising and dredging up my past when he’s not even going to be treating me long-term seemed a waste of time, and painful reminders I didn’t need to ruminate over.

I’ve heard from the UK that the case with

the officer will be wound up by end of year.  I can’t help but feel anxious about that either.

My symptoms of PTSD have been worse than usual, but I anticipate a lot of that is down to the season.  I find the pressure, the expectations, the stimuli all too much.  At least in my own home I’ve opted not to decorate it, so I have a space I can return to.  unfortunately it’s not necessarily feeling relaxed at the moment, with having to call the council repeatedly for the noise, which will only get worse this time of year.

The end of the year is dragging and I’m feeling restless.  I don’t know what the new year will bring, aside from more stress, so I’m feeling like a I need to take a good long hard at what I need to do vs what I want to achieve.

I’m glad I have a therapy session tomorrow.  I really need to talk.