Bed

I’ve spent the day in bed. I’m in this horrible fog of missing my children terribly, grieving my marriage and feeling uncertain about my future. It’s all so over whelming so staying in bed seems like the easiest option. But I feel guilty because I know I should be doing more. It’s a cycle where I feel constantly miserable and can’t seem to find any solace.

I think my parents are struggling to understand this part of me. They’ve never seen how bad depression is and they probably think I’m being lazy and not even trying. I feel that way!

I’m not sure what the answers are. I’m not sure how to find any sort of peace. I should really catch up with some old friends, but I’m ashamed of what I’ve become.

My children miss me (although S has told me that they enjoy having his mother there) and I resent her for being in my place. Her place is unquestionably part of the family. Unlike me.

I just continue to feel really alone and I’m not sure anyone gets it. I keep remembering when S and I were here last time, so much pressure was on us. In retrospect I should have embraced my time in the UK, rather than seeing it as a punishment. I’ve made so many mistakes. Too many to begin to unravel.

Strangely the bad memories from my past aren’t playing a part. I’m still stuck in the recent past and present. Perhaps my brain has triggered a defence mechanism. Either way I’m grateful. I don’t need any of my past haunting me now.

So I’ve come all this way and inevitably depression has caught up with me and daily life is a struggle.

I don’t know what to do anymore.

In transit

I’m in Dubai now. It’s hot, and I’m sweaty and miserable. I couldn’t get comfy on the flight (I’ve not flown since I got so fat) and the service was pretty abysmal. I’ve flown Emirates back in the 90s and didn’t like it then. But it was part of a special deal. 

Surprisingly I don’t have flu symptoms yet, long haul and flu go together for me.

I’ve just had feelings of dread and regret in the air. I had a long wait in Auckland, and just watched the new series of House of Cards, but I was still in New Zealand so the gravity didn’t really dawn on me. On the flight I knew by each minute I was going further and further from my children. The regret was just as oppressive and added to my claustrophobia. Especially as everyone else had kids on board. The reality also that there will be no more family vacations struck me pretty hard.

So perhaps my intentions were right, reality is already kicking my arse. My marriage is over and there will be no more family holidays. No more S and I managing the kids. I kept having the urge to cry but fought it off. There will be lots of tears when I land. If I ever land. 

I used to love flying. It’s just watching movies and having a waitress! But now it feels painfully long and uncomfortable. My weight is probably a big contributor to that.

You’d think in times of stress I’d lose weight, but instead I get fatter, and I’m not moving much either. The last few weeks have been spent mostly in bed, so the airport transfers alone are making me walk more than I do in a week. 

My anxiety has been really bad. I’ve been shaking and bordering panic attacks. I was a seasoned traveller. I’ve been all over the globe and I used to storm through airports. Now I’m shaking, sweating, my chest is tight from panic. I feel more alone than I ever have. Everything has fallen apart. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m ashamed of what I’ve become. I see more clearly what S sees when he looks at me and I can understand his disgust. I’m nothing like the girl he married. I’m pretty revolting as it goes, and my passion for life is dead.

I owe my children more than this. When did I become so selfish? When did I let myself go so much? When did I stop living? 

I hate myself, I hate what I’ve become. My children deserve so much more.

I hope that I can find my way back to myself. If nothing changes after this UK trip, after all of this discomfort and hellish travel, I don’t know what I’ll do.

I miss my children and the unconditional love they give me. But I need to be better for them.

Packing

The day before I fly out. It seems unreal that this time next week I’ll have been in the UK for a week. It’s a beautiful sunny, warm autumnal day here in NZ and I keep wondering if I’m doing the right thing. But the feeling of ‘starting over’ AGAIN, house hunting and moving seems impossible. So it’s not that I’m happy and settled here. I’m just enjoying being around the children. But living in this house isn’t a possibility. 

Last night was lovely. S was away, the kids tidied their rooms and we all sat and watched a couple of movies. It was really amazing and evenings like that make me wonder why the days are so painfully hard. 

There’s a long gap between my arrival to Auckland and my departing flight. Im really anxious about it. I have hardly spent much time out of bed, so being in the loud and busy airport for hours it’s really anxiety provoking. Plus I’ll be devastated from leaving my children, so lots of time for regrets to settle in.

The only aspect of the flight I’m looking forward to is that at least in the air, nothing can be done. That is, no phone calls, no depressing mail, nothing I have to face and handle like I do on a daily basis here.

S has already arranged for his Mother to come here while I’m away. I feel like he blames me for the rift between them (she never approved of me), and he’s forgotten how difficult she was. It’s like every negative thing in his life, every bad thing was because of me. He blames me for the separation, even though he told me he didn’t love me and told me repeatedly that our marriage was over. I just don’t understand him at all. But as I’ve said before, he is happy, so I guess in some way I was making him miserable. It’s just amazing how he was able to stop loving me so quickly and start resenting me so passionately.

I know I drone on about it and I shouldn’t. It’s one of the reasons, well, the main reason I need to get away. I need to clear my head of this stuff. It’s so confronting dealing with it every day. 

I don’t know how compassionate my family are going to be. Considering they think ‘mental illness’ is really something easily controlled and more a state of mind. Their response to my feeling anxious (about other stuff) already has been ‘well don’t be’ as if anxiety can be stopped. And I know they’ll struggle to understand my unwillingness to get up and function. I’ll be considered ‘lazy.’ But it’s a risk I have to take, because I’m not getting anywhere alone. And I’m hoping in amongst all the negative stuff, they’ll show some caring.

I’m looking forward to seeing my best friend. She’s heavily pregnant, so I’ll be excited to be there for her. She swore she’d never have children, so this was quite a shock! And she gets me, so at least I won’t feel totally isolated. 

I’ll just be glad to be on that departing flight so I can close my eyes and take my head off. Although I know it’ll start a fresh lot of tears.

Same old

Maybe day 4 or 5, no showering, same clothes. I’ve given up on life. I’ve certainly given up on myself. No one would believe I used to get my hair done regularly, get my nails done, care about my presentation. I’ve got long dark roots, perpetually greasy, lank hair, crooked nails, and I don’t even know where my make up is. 

I look old, ragged, tired, and I’ve lost my sense of worth. I don’t care how I look and I don’t care how others see me. I have nothing and I am nothing.

S only cares about getting me to sign the house over. So his parents can hold it and then hand it back. He’s sorted for life. And I’m pretty sure he’s seeing someone, he’s on his phone all the time, sneaking out to take calls. It’s like him and I never existed. He doesn’t show any signs of compassion or even regard me as familiar. I’m just an over stayer. I never imagined how much that would hurt. I never thought he could be so cold and callous. I don’t know him at all anymore. And I guess that’s part of the reason I don’t know myself anymore. I used to be life and soul of the party, now I’m pretty much in bed all the time. Forget friends, I haven’t made an effort at all. 

I’d say I’m dead inside but I still have deep feelings of hurt and sadness. 

I don’t know if I’ll get through this. I hope every day that a truck will hit me, or I’ll have a brain aneurysm, just something that will stop this constant misery. I don’t want to hurt my children and I know they’d be devastated, so that’s why I’m not actually doing anything myself. It would be easier if it were out of my control. Every day. I hope something will happen. My funeral would be empty, it’d be process. Because I’m a nothing. A no one. I’ve not made any differences, I’ve not left any marks.

Well, maybe the plane will go down! Not that I wish death on anyone else.

I’m really anxious about my upcoming trip. I’ll miss my children so much. To be so far from them is a scary thought. There’s no ‘jumping on a flight’ in an emergency. It takes 30 odd hours of travel. I’ve never been very far from them before.

I wouldn’t be surprised if S left me there. He can do whatever he likes while I’m out of the picture. And I don’t know him anymore. It’s like he’d slay me with a sword with a smile on his face. I know he’s always thinking and planning, but in his mind, I’m the enemy. Sometimes he’s nice to me, and it’s almost scary. I wonder where the ‘metaphorical’ punch will come. I’m not sure he’s capable of being nice to me out of any sense of residual care for me, the anger, disgust, and disdain boils over too much sometimes for me to know where his true feelings lie.

Anyway, there’s no point keep going on about my sunken marriage I suppose. Perhaps this is normal, when couples separate, feelings change 180 degrees. It just becomes a game to some.

Hopefully England will give me the respite i  need. My parents aren’t particularly sympathetic people and usually blame me for my troubles, I only hope I can push that aside and just be grateful I’m out of NZ for a bit.

Leaving NZ

I’ve managed to use the last of my money and scrape enough for a UK flight. One way. I’m going to miss my children desperately. They’re my only reason for living. Without them, I’m nothing. 

But I can’t carry on down this path of destruction. I have lost everything and I have nothing else. I can’t see a way out of the storm and I’m so tired. I hope that being home I can rest, I can grieve and I can find myself again. I’m failing as a mother all the time now. I can’t keep letting my kids down. One day, I want them to be proud of me. At the moment it hurts to breathe. I can’t imagine ever enjoying life again.

So I leave next week. The warewolves in NZ won’t be able to get me there, although I have plenty of demons I need to excorcise in the UK. Strangely that seems easier to comprehend right now.

I will return to my babies when the time is right. I have not given up on NZ. But right now, it’s not my home. I’m miserable and I’m not niave, that will follow me home. In fact for at least the first few weeks I know I’ll be inconsolable. But it’s a tidal wave of grief that needs to be felt and nurtured.  I don’t belong anywhere. But at least I can find solace in where I originate from.

I don’t know if it’s the right or the wrong thing. I can’t trust my judgement, I can’t handle decisions. I’m overwhelmed and over wrought. But I’m doing the only thing that makes sense. I’ve hit so many blocks, there comes a time when picking up and starting over no longer works, even for the strongest. Something needs to give. I only hope with all my heart that a few weeks away will give me some peace and the ability to find my fight again.

Dead end

So S is away again and I’m looking after the children. S has been particularly unkind this weekend and I’m really struggling to deal with the fallout. He needs me as a babysitter but not to discuss anything or else it results in insults towards me. When I tried to express my feelings for him he referred to it as ‘tripe’. I literally can’t win with this guy, I don’t think anyone in my entire life has ever hated me as much as my ex-husband. There is absolutely no breaking through to him. So I’m trying to find A way forward and make some positive changes to my life. While still dealing with the low and the mix of new medications. So far I have concluded that my move to Martinborough was a bad idea, I’m not enjoying living alone, and I can’t really have the kids with me because they go to school over this way. So do I try to find another rental and move back? The current market is pretty bad, I thought about potentially renting a cabin and putting it on the land around the house that I once owned with S, but he put that idea down straightaway. I actually thought it was a good idea, It would save money and I would be around to deal with the children all the time which would be wonderful for them and for me. Essentially he doesn’t one want me round. His idea was for me to move in with a flatmate. Which then creates the same issue that I can’t have the children over because I have a flatmate. Plus I’m too old to be sharing my home with anybody now. But I figured maybe I should give it all up and just go travelling. That was how I found myself before, that was when I truly enjoyed myself. But in Cambodia I missed the children painfully, I don’t think I could be away from them for prolonged period of time.

I had been looking for work for long before I got really unwell, now I’ve started to look again although the job market seems to have plateaued and my confidence is really shaken. But I thought at least if I had a job it would give me some confidence some semblance of a routine, and my children can be proud of me. I feel like I have no purpose, no direction, no real idea of who I am any more. I was a wife and a mother. I had a home, I knew my life I knew know what to expect. But now I don’t have a home, I am no longer part of the unit. My ex-husband  was my best friend in no can’t tolerate any more. My home feels too far away and it’s not a home for the children. I’m too afraid to live alone because the PTSD is gripping me. Perhaps if it wasn’t for the rowdy neighbours in my last house I would’ve discovered my absolute fear of living alone but I thought my fear was just because the neighbours – that’s really screwed things up for me.

I have also heard from the police in the UK that the current case is with the criminal prosecution service. And they are waiting to know if the case Will go through the courts, I have at this time informed them that I intend to testify if it goes that far. You know what I’m just sick of being silenced. I’m sick of pretending that I’m okay, I’m sick of pretending that it’s okay for people to treat me like shit. So if it goes to court I will testify. If it doesn’t go to court it goes through a gross misconduct trial, I have also advise I would be willing to testify on that. So things could get more stressful here in New Zealand while  I deal with the fallout in the UK.

So I feel I’m at a crossroads, that’s a positive spin actually feel like I’m at a dead end. I’m not progressing nothing is changing, and I’m certainly not feeling any better about myself. My relationship with my ex is declining so rapidly, soon will be on lawyer only terms. Which is what I never wanted because he was always my best friend and I miss him terribly. I genuinely believed that we’d find our way back together -how much of an idiot am I? And he’s made it abundantly clear that it’s not a loss if I’m not available to babysit because his mother is on call. How useless do I feel about now?

I wish there was some way I could fast forward to a years time and see what I’m doing. And I just hope to God that I am happy and that I’m doing something I want to be doing. Because another year like this will certainly send me over the edge.

Therapy, issues, interview

Today was very long and called for all of my strength and ability to compartmentalize.

After S dropped off the kids last night (at 10.30pm with McDonald’s?!!), and getting them settled, the neighbours kicked off with their all too frequent noise.  Despite reporting them to the council, they persist in music going from 8am- 3/4am (yep, all day and night!).  Its loud and really inconsiderate.  Especially when they have friends over all night.  The morning came all too quickly and after school drop off, I had some time to get ready and then head to my first therapy session in months.

I decided to tell my therapist about the case in the UK and let her read all of the emails and my statement.  She had a very strong take on the situation, referring to the cop as being a predator and pointing out my vulnerability state at the time.  I don’t feel that way, but I am conflicted about the whole thing and I feel a lot of shame.  My mind likes to remind me of certain conversations or things, that feels wrong and did do at the time, but I am also keen to believe that we had a connection and I wasn’t one of his many ‘types,’ that he pursued for his own desires or need for control.

Knowing I was driving on to a job interview, it was really important that I didn’t give in to my feelings.  Only last night I was liaising with the police in the UK AGAIN because they keep asking the SAME things and it’s really traumatic.  Last night is the first time in a long time that I felt like self harming.  The urge to cut was overwhelming, I thought about the knife I would use, I pictured myself doing it, not only the release, but the punishment for myself.  To take away some of the shame and feeling of being dirty.  I struggled with the desperate urge, but focussed on my sleeping son and how special he is and how much I love my children and need to be strong for them.  It was the perfect distraction I needed.

Therapy was much-needed, to discuss to my thoughts, to confide in someone, to go over the communications – because I don’t feel safe talking to anyone else.  It would have been good to cry, to shout, to express the deep-rooted shame, confusion and fear.  But as I say, I was keen to focus on the long drive ahead on roads affected by earthquakes, floods and even a tornado!

Amazingly I kept my calm, and the drive was uneventful.

The interview was good, but I’m not overly confident.

Its surreal.  In the morning I’m talking about the rape, I’m being told the cop I thought liked me was nothing but a predator and it was abuse, and then in the afternoon I am chatting in an office about my professional experience, without any indication that the night before I was struggling with issues of self harm.

Am I even normal??

This evening I am absolutely exhausted, I’m short of breath, I have this terrible feeling of doom and I’m uncomfortably restless.  I recognise that I am in the grips of anxiety.  I don’t have any diazepam, I don’t really want to drink, and I feel more lonely than normal.

Its evenings like this where I would truly love to feel cherished, to be cuddled, and to be reminded that I am not alone, that its OK to be damaged, and I am not some sort of heinous slut.  I guess I need to remind myself of that.

I’m feeling pretty confused about everything.  I would like to enjoy a good night’s sleep, but I suspect the neighbours won’t grant me that.  I feel the urge to go away for a few nights.  I really need to process things.