Novelty wears thin

Staying with my parents;

Pros – I get treated like a kid

Cons – I get treated like a kid

As the novelty of their distant first born returning wears off and the frustration builds (we’ve had her hair done, bought her clothes and she’s still miserable) things are getting more strained. My dad feels it necessary to comment on anything I eat, and when I eat (which isn’t often but apparently I still get it wrong) and also there’s the whole, ‘get some fresh air, it’ll help you’ as I remain hidden away like a vampire reading my books. Of course, if they’d put me on the bloody insurance I could go out and yes, even walk! But no, they’re playing taxi which makes me feel awkward, and it’s slightly embarrassing ending a day with a friend, ‘I just have to call my mum.’

I did have lunch with my pregnant best mate the other day. It was an anxiety provoking start but I ended up relaxed and really happy to see her. And she’s asked me to be her birth partner – very exciting! Of course if she goes into labour before her induction, I’ll have to get my mum to drive me (insert eye roll here).

So I haven’t been out as much as I’d planned in my mind, but then England was never going to be a cure. 

And now I find my nights lying awake tossing and turning and dreading going back to NZ but not feeling I belong here either.

Of course I miss the kids dreadfully and we Skype a couple of times a day. S hasn’t bothered messaging at all to see how I am. I had to chase him down to discuss the kids and a parents evening, and even then I could tell I was a major inconvenience to him. That my opinions didn’t count and basically- who the hell was I again? And if it’s at all possible, he’s even colder with me than normal.

Mind you, despite my planned trip to Cambodia he later accused me of leaving our marriage, which was completely inaccurate. So I suppose with his family firmly inserted into my family, there’ll be whispers that I deserted them and I’ve no doubt it’ll be held against me for all eternity, like with Cambodia.

So in essence, I need to get myself sorted pronto. But as I can’t see a psychiatrist, I can’t see anyway to lift this perpetual dark fog. I’m chugging on with fluoxetine, but it’s not making a difference. And I can’t find myself facing the imminent task of house hunting and moving again with any energy or determination. To be honest, I’m not even sure how I’ll manage the flight at the moment. I’m conscious that September is divorce month and S will slap me with the paperwork before the ink from the printer is dry. Perhaps there’s some avoidance on my part. Although I don’t why. He’s as cold as the ocean, and has made it abundantly clear that he stopped feeling anything for me years ago. Why I continue to pine something that ultimately makes me feel like pond scum is anyone’s guess.

So here I am in limbo. Not getting the miracle fresh air that will cure me, and feeling completely isolated and deeply uncertain about my future.

Sun after the storm

So I had no luck with the GP. There’s a long wait for a psychiatrist, and strict criteria and as I’m being treated in NZ, I won’t get treated here. I understand the principle but my meds need reviewing and the GP won’t do it and I’m left struggling. I even had to get a nurse in NZ to send a copy of my current prescription to the GP before she wrote any out. As if I’d lie about the meds I’m on! I know my meds better than most GPs thank you very much!

I took the hurdle really badly and ended up brooding in my bed again, feeling dejected.

It was a struggle and Mum has been trying to get me to the hairdresser but frequently cancelling because I can’t face it. It’s her way of trying to make me feel better about myself and getting me out, which is actually really thoughtful. I decided to go against my desire to languish in bed and do it. I felt so anxious I nearly cried in the place! Silly really. I’ve always loved getting my hair done and been confident. But now I don’t go out and I’m so fat, I’ve not bothered. The hairdresser was lovely and really put me at ease. And I’m glad I had it cut. It looks a lot better.

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t want to go out again (mum had said she wanted to take me shopping). My body was like lead. Getting ready was really hard work and I didn’t think I could face it. But I decided to push through hoping I’d feel better for it.

 I got a lot of really nice things – which I didn’t expect! We walked around a bit and then stopped for coffee. For the first time in months I felt less self conscious and a bit more normal.

I also bought my son a really cute ‘Cars’ jacket from the Disney store (which admittedly I did tear up a bit).

I’m so glad I came back here. For a while it looked like nothing was going to change and perhaps it had all been for nothing. But gradually I’m getting a bit more positive. And it’s so nice to be cared for. My mum makes lovely home cooked dinners, and has done my laundry for me! I’m an overgrown kid again!

But it’s giving me the respite I need to clear my mind and try to think about my future. I’m still very sad and going back to NZ seems to be an overwhelming task; setting up all over again. But if I can continue to get myself in a better space I might start to focus on the positives. I feel like I have my family behind me, which really helps and I’ve still got friends to catch up with.

Getting there!

Not getting anywhere 

It’s not going well. So far I’ve barely been out of bed. The depression feels two pronged. I’m down anyway, I’m grieving my marriage, and I’m conscious that I have to start from scratch back in NZ. I feel such an aching sadness and an oppressive sense of overwhelming anxiety at my future.

Life just feels impossible at the moment.

My dad has just tried to talk to me about my plans and I know he’s concerned that I’m not going out or doing anything. I do try and make plans in my head, but in reality I can’t face the days, the people, the decisions and the sense of not belonging.

I’m not doing my children any service by being here and being the same as I was in NZ. This trip needs to be worth our separation. I’m scared of going back and being the same. I can’t let them down.

And yet, I just feel no joy. No purpose. No sense of identity.

When I go back to NZ, I’ll be living on welfare until I get a job. The prospect alone is depressing.

How has my life tumbled into such a chaotic mess?

I’m going to see if I can find a GP here to refer me to a psychiatrist. Maybe I need some different medication. Maybe I need some hope that something can change.

Sun, sea

I’m really enjoying my time here. In this unusually hot weather we went to Bournemouth beach yesterday 


I did break down and cry when we arrived because I knew how much my kids would have loved it and I miss them terribly.

S has been scathing in text messages, so I limit my communication with him. I’m still trying to reconcile that he’s not the same person. Of course in this weather there were all couples and families and I’ll never have that again. It’s deeply upsetting, but when I think about how S regards me now, it’s obvious it won’t ever go back. I just need to process that. I need to let go and I need to stop letting S upset me. 

I’ve been talking to the kids everyday and it helps to see them. But I wish they were here. In fact I’d go so far to say that if my children were here, I’m not sure we’d return to NZ. So much has happened and I’m not looking forward to starting over again. But I feel more confident about starting over here in a place I know. Maybe it’s easier saying that because I’m on holiday here. 

I can still feel the depression is around me. But I’m pushing against it. I know my parents will never really understand it. But I’m trying to be more present and more involved. Doesn’t help that Dad makes quite a few inferences to my weight. I knew it’d be an issue, so I’ve faced it by cracking jokes. But really it hurts. I don’t want to be this big.

Otherwise my parents are being great. And I’m enjoying being here in ‘daughter’ capacity.

I do miss my little dudes though, so very much 

Settling in

So of course I’ve found my wedding photos, little momentos from S, old pictures of when we first met. I expected to break down in a heap. I haven’t. Not yet anyway. I guess I knew it was inevitable. I think the thing that stops me from feeling it so strongly is that I know he wouldn’t feel anything. He is so unattached he wouldn’t recognise himself, nor relate any memories. Another timely reminder that this is definitely over and there’s no going back. He isn’t the same person in the pictures. He doesn’t care like he used to. Already he’s blamed me for our son being behind at school over FaceTime, when I was trying to find a solution. He seems to like making me feel useless, digging out my failings and insecurities.

Today is the first day I’ve felt normal since getting back. My headache has slowly retreated, and I feel less foggy and confused. It’s been unbelievably hot here! And the long, light evenings are really strange to me! I’m still sleeping a lot and I think my medication regime is still trying to settle. But at least I feel human. It doesn’t usually take me so long to recover from a flight. I suspect my weight has been quite a contributing factor to that. That and all the stress I was under in NZ. I feel like I can actually breathe properly here. I feel less oppressed, there are less expectations and I’m able to rest, or have the company of my parents as I need. Currently I don’t feel like a burden to them. It is truly nice to feel like I’m home.

I’m even showering regularly! 

Tomorrow Dad wants to drive to Reading to visit the cemetery where his parents are buried – its Father’s Day here tomorrow. I was very close to my Nan, so I’m glad to go. I have no anxiety about going out, in fact I think I’ll enjoy the road trip. It’s supposed to be another sunny day. 

I’m not sure what I’ll be doing for the rest of the week, or if I’ll continue to feel relaxed (I really hope so) so I’m just taking each day as it comes. I know I had some major concerns and regrets on the way, but now I know this is the best thing I could have done.

Arrived!

I’m absolutely shattered, so I’ll keep this brief. I felt like the day would never end, I’ve been in a sitting position for almost 50 hours. I ache, I feel sick and I’m finally horizontal!

I really regretted the flight and thought I’d made a terrible mistake but my parents have greeted me with open arms. My old room has been set up beautifully and Mum had a huge basket of a variety of hair products, body stuff and bath treats. I have felt truly cared about for the first time in ages.

It’s also been really warm here and the long, light evening seems weird! I have no idea on times and days, I think it’ll take me a while to get adjusted and get my medication regime back on track.

I have amazed myself today. Well, the last few days! I didn’t move from my comfort spot, but I have sought care from familiarity and faced the anxiety provoking travel, far away from my days in bed. I survived it and I did it alone.

I miss my babies painfully, but hopefully this will all be worth it 

Court

I had an interview yesterday afternoon, the company works around mental illness so it would be something I’d be passionate about. But there were 5 candidates and frankly I just think I wasn’t experienced enough. I struggled to come up with examples of historical work place incidents again and the air got thicker and I shrank more and more. The interviewers pens scribbled less, and I knew at times I’d lost members of the panel. Again, it’s hard not to feel bad about it. I haven’t got what it takes – I can’t fake it. That’s just the truth of the matter. I am starting to feel the crushing realisation that I might never work again, and am finally making steps to apply for disability. Something I’ve avoided for so long because I didn’t want to admit my position. I’ll still send my CV out but I’m not positive at all. I’m not even sure what I want to be doing anymore.

S is making it so blatant that he doesn’t want me around. I can’t even begin to express the toxic environment at home. I feel like such an unwelcome houseguest. I’m trying my best to avoid him. I had hoped to move into a flat on the weekend so I could be out of his way but he needs me Tues-Fri next week. What’s the point in paying rent if I’m going to be here?? He hasn’t even asked, just assumed I’d be ok looking after the kids.

This morning I had to leave early for court and I was using his car, he went nuts saying it sounded really bad ‘since I’d been driving it.’ Actually I’ve told him before it sounds bad, but he told me he had it serviced (even though the check engine light is continually on). He was so shitty with me and then told me it was a mess inside. His car is usually full of litter which I tidy out because it bugs me, there’s no litter in it, so I’m not sure why he made that comment. I felt attacked and useless again. On a morning where I definitely didn’t need it. He demanded I ‘drive straight back.’

The guy hates me like an enemy. An enemy he’s being forced to endure. It’s a difficult thing for me to process. But I refuse to break down and cry.

Court was its own nightmare. People were there with really serious charges, I was told by a duty solicitor that mine was ‘minor’ I’ve still ended up with a traffic conviction and $100 fine. Lucky the fine wasn’t too much, but a conviction is surely a conviction?? Traffic or otherwise. I have no idea how this is going to impact me. I’ll need to speak to my lawyer.

Afterwards I’d hope to secure my flat, I was shown three. One with windows almost against a wall so it was pretty dark, and the others so grotty and smelly. I’m waiting until Monday to view another one that’s come up, but this one is a studio. What does it matter? Without my kids I’m only going to lie on the bed all the time any way.

At least this week is over and I’ve survived it. I’ve certainly seen more action then I have in ages, which is kind of good considering how much I slept before.