Respite. Again.

I’m in respite again. I’m really disappointed that I have a room (the last one available) in the main office. Which is open 24/7, to both men and women that are unstable (like me!) or drug takers. The office worker has the tv on, heating up to the max, and the bathroom is a depressing and shameful walk through the office. As my door is unlocked (no locks) I don’t feel safe. And so my PTSD symptoms are playing havoc. I’m simultaneously depresssed and tired but hyper vigilant and panicked.

There will be constant noise and as those with PTSD will agree, it’s amplified and irritating on an irrational level.

I know I shouldn’t complain, we have a good system here and I’m more fortunate than most to be able to ask for help and anticipate the mental health service will provide for me. But there’s no mistaking that my situation is complex and I struggle to feel comfortable in most situations. Usually I can adapt, but there’s no room for that here.

The two alternatives were to be in my house alone – not good. Or stay at S’s. Which should have been fine (he offered) but the room has no door, as such I don’t tend to sleep well because I hear the kids! And they’re usually up early, so I didn’t anticipate much sleep. Not only that, but why should they all feel my presence like a dark, looming storm? I can’t pretend to be happy, I’m no company to be around. I can’t concentrate so reading and tv is out and again, the noise becomes grating. Especially after a week of full on care.

I’m breathing loudly and shallow, I feel my wolf hearing is on high alert and I wonder if the (male) office worker can hear me breathing. I just want to disappear into the walls. I want to be nothing and no one.

I feel grimy and unclean. I haven’t showered today or brushed my teeth and my clothes are marked. Clear signals that I’m becoming increasingly unstable. 

My case manager asked me today, how will you know you’re well? I’ll shower and dress without hesitation, brush my teeth, drive anywhere I want without fear, stop somewhere for a coffee, chat to my friends. There’s a myriad of such innocuous aspects to my life that are missing. To live freely and without the emotional and mental drain seems alien to me. 

If I were to die

If I were to die today,

I wouldn’t miss the sun, the stars or the sky.

I wouldn’t miss the changes of the season or the cool breeze in my hair.

If I were to die today, I wouldn’t miss the pretty flowers, the smell of a distant log burner, or a cooked meal.

I wouldn’t miss the feeling of freedom of driving, the smile of strangers, the taste of an ice cold drink.

If I were to die today, I could be at peace with the earth. 

I wouldn’t have to maintain a facade, the pain would end, the dull grey would fade.

If I were to die today, I couldn’t miss the things I no longer enjoy.

If only, I were to die today.

Bad

Thursday. I’m drained and I recognise my mood has dipped. It’s been on a plateau, but I recognise that for some reason, either the medication isn’t working or it’s some sort of breakthrough depression.

I emailed my case manager yesterday and explained how I felt. Also that during the long Easter weekend S would be home and thought I should use that time to rest at mine, but I was actually scared. Scared to be alone with my crushing thoughts.

I’m seeing him tomorrow, I’ve also readily agreed to the new anti psychotic, having read about it, I think it’s the right decision.

S’s house is a mess. Not good for him to return too. I’ve tried staying on top of it. Forcing myself bouts of tidying/laundry. But with three kids off today, I can’t keep up. I’m tired in every fibre of my being and I’m so very miserable. 

I had begged S to come back earlier but he’s literally not been able too. Wellington airport was at a standstill because of the fog.

Again, I can’t imagine feeling ‘normal’ anymore. I’m riddled with depression. My perception of everything is grey, colourless. I hate my reflection with vigorous intensity. My body is over weight, ugly, fat oozes out of my clothes. My face is puffy, my eyes dark, my skin tone is uneven.

I hate myself and what I’ve become. A useless mother, a failure, pathetic, rambling old and weak.

I would like to thank ‘Manyofus’ and ‘AlicewithPTSD’ immensely for the never ending support. I use my blog as an outlet as I don’t feel able to talk to anyone and they have continually tried to bring me up and for that I’m eternally grateful. Particularly as they face their own battles.

I read other blogs but I’ve stopped commenting. I feel like I have nothing of worth to contribute. I just sit here silently holding out for the other members of the WordPress community to seek wellness. Have everything they deserve to have, to be happy.

UK and me

I had one night last week at my house and I had a migraine the entire time so I didn’t get the rest that I really wanted. I’m back at S’s house now and the kids are in bed. Egg has been really sick for the last couple of days with a tummy bug, I had to pick H up from school because apparently he was acting unwell and he’s been super tired since he’s been back and has been sleeping on and off. And my eldest is suffering with really bad period pain which is unfortunately something she’s inherited from her mother. Let’s hope that’s the only thing she inherits.

It’s only Monday and I’m already feeling frazzled. My body continues to ache in a way that slows me down and makes me feel cumbersome and old. The weather has been predictably miserable, although we are nearly in autumn now, and that’s usually my favourite season. To be honest with the mood I am in, wrapping up or curling up with a hot water bottle sounds idyllic and suits how I feel.

Luckily this week is quiet for me with only a therapy session planned. That’s if I get to go, if the kids are well enough. 

I only watched English programs today, I was so keen to get out of the UK when we were last there, it seems ridiculous to think I miss it. But last time I was forced to relocate, S worked long hours, and I was going through the police investigation. Now the idea of being there as a tourist is so appealing. There is something to be said for being around your own people. Conversation flows much easier, and I miss the English humour.  I miss my home comforts, my favourite foods, my favourite places, and a well-made cup of tea. I wonder if this is part of my current need to feel nurtured. As its the familiar things I miss, the things that make me feel comfortable and cared for, safe and homely.
I’m starting to think I will remain at this lower level of functioning. Although I did swell with pride at the parent teacher interviews, and I still get that warm rush when I pick my children up from school, I can’t remember feeling joy or happiness. My mind is a mess of a worst case scenarios, relief when the worst case scenario doesn’t happen and preparation for the worst case scenarios. It’s not a mentally healthy place to be at and it’s very tiring.

I have no idea what happened to that police officer in the UK. As usual I wasn’t updated. I noticed in some news articles there is a reference to a police officer that was fired for gross misconduct but it’s  anyone’s guess if it was him or not. I don’t try to look up the rapist, I don’t want his face in my head, and it would drive me insane thinking about his movements.

My circle is becoming increasingly smaller. I find it too hard to maintain relationships with people. I’m just very unsocial and I hate to say it again but I am also just too tired.

Dating isn’t an option for me. The ironic thing is that the only person I can trust is actually S. He knows me intimately and I don’t just mean sexually, I know that if I got ill he would still have my back. I know that for all our arguments, all the bad things we’ve said to each other and all the horrible things we’ve thought about each other surmount to nothing if either of us need one another. I know that if I dated someone I would never give them all of me, because I have already given it to S. And I can honestly say, that if he needed me I would drop everything and anyone and be there for him. I know that S has moved on and sees me as somewhat of a burden perhaps he mostly tolerates me because he needs me to look after his children, and because I am his children’s mother, but I do believe that in my darkest hour he would help me. Despite all the bitterness we still have a bond, and I don’t think I could have that with anybody else.

That’s the only time I’ll say that. I wouldn’t say it to him! I’ll stick with bitching about him!

I’ve noticed my insomnia is getting worse, even though my meds haven’t changed. It’s like I’m tired but my brain keeps thinking about all these different things at night usually not good things. I’ve been lectured enough by various doctors about ‘sleep hygiene.’ And I follow their advice. There is no TV in the room, I turn my phone off at night, I try to eat at the same time as the kids around 5.30/ 6 o’clock. And I don’t drink coffee in the evenings. But still my brain keeps whirring and in the end I give up and start reading a book.

I’m not sure if I’ll just carry on like this, if I break, or better yet I’ll start to feel better. It’s anyone’s guess.

I am my depressionĀ 

When I move my arms and legs it feels like I have sand bags tied to me. My movements feel uncoordinated, heavy, cumbersome and achy. My eyes feel grainy, I rub them but they are still heavy and tired. 

I feel like I am about to have flu, but it’s a  general feeling of malaise, but I know it’s not a virus and deep within me.

I go to do something and then I forget what I was doing and I feel frustrated because I am so forgetful, and then I felt tired and sad and useless.

When I smile it feels strange and unreal. Really my face is screwed up into a ball because I’m often concentrating or rather trying to concentrate because my brain won’t stay on the right track.

Noise, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard board, intermittent noise is make me jump and put me on edge.

People, I can’t do people, I can’t do the crowns I can’t do the stimulation, it’s both drowning and Over whelming.

Nothing makes me feel better, I can rest with a book, but I’m not happy I’m just being, I’m aware of the aches and my body I feel like I’m  100 years old and my bones will snap at the slightest movement.

I sigh a lot, but I’m not relaxed. I often feel out of breath even when I haven’t moved much because my anxiety is so powerful.

Often it feels like everything is going against me, like some force but I can’t control. That is totally irrational and yet a part of me feels and must have some reality.

I don’t know who I am some of the time. I know I am a mother, I am a friend, I am a daughter, I am a sister, I am an ex wife , but I don’t feel like a woman, I just feel like a thing.

Sometimes I can cry over nothing for ages. Sometimes i feel no emotion at all.

Sometimes I feel angry and ashamed

Sometimes I feel confused and scared.

Now it is night time and I’m so tired I want to sleep but I can’t. My brain is going over the bad things I can’t shut down.

I wish I could be nurtured and cared for and loved.

And yet I don’t always like affection it triggers me.

I feel like my one understands me I am a misnomer, and exception, and odd one, and a big contradiction

I am in a major depressive episode. Or is this just me?

I take the pills, I follow my doctors advice, I do everything I can be for the people that need me in the capacity that I am.

And yet I feel like a failure.

How can my life be so full of complications and how come my brain so defunct and useless?

Resting in peaceĀ 

I’m alone for the first time in a long time in my own home. I had the kids overnight and I had to basically beg S to pick them up in the morning. As much as I miss them terribly I know that for the sake of my mental health I really needed a period of time to have some good sleep and rest and not worry about anybody else.

Mostly I have read today which has been really nice, I watched Terminator which was really good as usual, and I retreated back to my bed for an early night with my book.

When S had arrived earlier, I went to hug him, I’m not sure why I did it, maybe it was a little bit of anxiety about being left alone, maybe it was just instinctive, but mostly I think it was about having some contact with somebody that felt safe and reassuring after a long and emotionally draining week.  Every time I’ve done this S has baulked in response, that’s a mixture of disgust and almost a shock as though I am using hotplates to touch him. I don’t know why I thought the mood would be mutually relaxed because he seems to really hate any way that I touch him. Even if we are sat on the sofa and I move in a way that touches part of him he flinches, and it’s hard not to take it personally. Like I am that repulsive, that dirty, that he just can’t bear to be around me. Which then makes me think the when he is nice he is doing it because he has an ulterior motive. It’s like he’s pretending to be nice but the true feeling is exhibited when I have touched him. I don’t know if that is an irrational fear, but it certainly has made me more aware, and perhaps more on guard.

I do miss the children, but the 1:4 ratio is really difficult. Especially on these medications, especially in this low.

But I’m back on duty Sunday night, and then next week.

Next weekend I’m banking on a long weekend at my place alone. I realise that it might be a little bit more anxiety provoking for me, because on my own the bad thoughts have plenty of opportunity to breed, and suck me dry of any hope, of any positivity. I mostly just want to sleep, I just want to remain in my home, shut away from everyone and not to worry about anything.

But first there’s next week to get through.

Hair

This week is yet again a very long tiring week. I havent managed to sleep well since the accident. I have stayed in touch though, through the husband checking in on the woman.

I was offered an interview for a job that i applied for sometime ago, even though I’ve decided that I don’t want to do full time work; I wasn’t going to turn down an interview . So I went and it was a mediocre interview, I don’t think I’ll get that job. I was then telephoned for an interview which was unexpected but I ended up withdrawing my application for that particular role because frankly I found the manager really rude.

I also had parents interviews at the school, so that was all afternoon as you can imagine with three of the children at that school. The feedback was really good, very positive about all the children, so at least I seem to be doing something right.

Yesterday I took them on for a haircut, they were really well-behaved and it was nice to see them with a new hair afterwards.


Today I saw the physiotherapist for my hand. Although I was really anxious about it I know it was something that had to be done. I have a different kind of splint on that ‘s supposed to help get my ligaments into place, as I’ll never be able to fully rest that hand, hopefully this will take some strain off.

I then went for my therapy session. I arrived early as I often do so I can sit with a coffee  and unwind. I ran into some people I know and it was good to catch up with them. But when my counsellor came out, she immediately told me that she expected me yesterday and she didn’t look very happy at all. In fact she was positively pissed off that I had come today instead of yesterday. I explained that she had made this appointment especially because of my hospital appointment. She insisted that I was wrong, but then she went through and checked her messages on her phone and saw the text messages. She apologised profusely , I have to say I was left with a bad feeling. I have to say I needed that appointment considering what a long and emotionally traumatic week it’s been.

She had another client so she couldn’t  see me, so I went home to try and rest as my head was pounding all day.

It wasn’t long before I had to leave again anyway to pick up the kids.

I started to make spaghetti Bolognese, but then realised there werent the bolognese ingredients , so I just ended up ordering pizza. The kids were happy, but I’m just feeling really fed up now. 

I noticed the steering on S’s car is particularly hard/noisy it’s hard to explain. No doubt he will be really pissed off with me about this. It will be covered under insurance, but that’s not the point I shouldn’t of damaged S’s car and hit a cyclist in the first place.

I’m not looking forward to his response over this. I imagine he’ll be shitty, but rather than shout, he’ll succeed in making me feel like shit with subtle comments and little remarks.

Everything feels so hard. It feels like everything keeps happening against me. But what really bugs me I suppose is that I’m supposed to keep on going. It would have been nice to have taken a reprieve after the accident. I know I was at fault, but as one of my friends kindly pointed out – I was still in the accident. But instead, as usual I’m forced to suppress all of my fears, sadness, guilt, regret because I have the kids. And of course, they didn’t think twice when I had to drive again, they didn’t know my night was bad. And today with therapy, there’s no support, I can only send a brief update to S. Why??? Habit I suppose. Even though I left the place in near tears.

The kids are bothering me constantly as I try and write this entry. There’s always a need, a demand for something, well of course, they’re children and I want to give them whatever they’re asking for. But I’m so very tired.

I keep picturing myself taking off for a few days. Leaving S to handle the kids, just enjoying silence, fresh scenery, freedom, not being bugged every second. But I couldn’t do that to my children, and therein lies the problem. The bonds that tie us.

I feel stuck in a really shitty rut, I see no way out. I see no way to being happy and content. 

I have no confidence, I feel beaten down. I’m desperate to curl up in bed (in MY house) and sleep the days away.