I have had a very bad few weeks, and I am in a very bad place at the moment. Sometimes I find writing quite cathartic and helpful in trying to resolve my worries and concerns, but this week I haven’t had the energy, motivation, will power, mind set or anything else to get typing. This is just a mass of jumbled thoughts coming out as I write them, I might not even edit this – how daring of me!
I was in a good place. I had a good support team behind me and I felt like my new medication might actually be working. I was having weekly visits with my attachment psychologist, monthly visits with my Health Visitor and six weekly visits with my GP. Then everything seemed to go a bit pear shaped.
My attachment psychologist couldn’t see me for a few weeks due to holiday and training. During this time I had a visit from my Health Visitor, where she decided I was stable enough to go to bi-monthly meetings. I wasn’t entirely convinced but agreed we’d give it a try, knowing I could call her if things changed. And they did.
I was starting to drop, I could physically feel it.
I was exhausted. Drained. Getting constant head aches.
I didn’t really know what to do with myself. And I still don’t.
When my attachment psychologist told me she wouldn’t be able to see me for a few weeks. We booked in an appointment for as soon as she was able. I was waiting for that appointment. As cliche as it sounds, it was the light at the end of my tunnel. I was sure as soon as we had a chat again, I would understand what was going on and start to go forward again, instead of backwards.
I waited in all day, and she didn’t turn up.
I called the office and they didn’t know why, they eventually got hold of her and it turned out she had forgotten the appointment whilst on a different training program. Now I am one that truly believes in the NHS and am so grateful for all they have done for me, but I was devastated. She could tell, and agreed to call me in the morning to try and squeeze me in somewhere. But she forgot to call.
I went to my six weekly GP appointment and expressed my concerns about my health. She agreed to chase up with my attachment psychologist, see what was happening with my next phase of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), which I am still on a 3-4 month waiting list for, and decided to double my dosage to see if that would help me in the meantime.
It didn’t help. I know it takes time to kick in, but in the meantime, it has made everything worse.
I don’t want to sound all doom and gloom, I have had a few good days, mainly on the weekends when my husband is home to support me. We even went to the Zoo and actually had an amazing day. The kids were good, there weren’t any arguments. It was a good day.
However the following day was back to normality – I wake already exhausted. My husband takes my daughter upstairs for breakfast and pops something on the telly whilst I get a lie in and the baby sleeps, then goes off to work. My daughter wakes me every now and then for snacks, which I oblige despite barely being able to move. My whole body aches. My son wakes, I give him a bottle and put him back down, I’m lucky that he goes back to sleep quite easily. Eventually my daughter will come back to bed with me, and we’ll snuggle, watch YouTube videos on my phone and wait for the baby to wake and start the day. This usually happens around midday.
I want to get out of bed, but have no motivation to do so.
The rest of the week continues in a similar pattern. I don’t get out of bed unless I have to. My body is starting to feel the effects of this in the form of bed sores. Everything aches. My shoulders, my joints, my head, my jaw from constant clenching and grinding.
Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I just hide under the covers, hold myself in a ball and wish it could all be over. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m not in a good place and I don’t know how to fix anything. My medication doesn’t seem to be working, maybe medication just isn’t for me? It certainly doesn’t work on everyone. Maybe I just need a new one, or a combination of different ones, but the thought of weaning off to move onto another also terrifies me. But then can things get even worse? I’d hope not, but then I’m sure it can.
I called my Health Visitor and she made an emergency appointment with me. ‘We’ have decided that I need more than they can offer me anymore. I have been referred for Adult Mental Health Services. It has been confirmed that attachment psychology isn’t needed anymore, as I am on the way to building a meaningful, loving relationship with my son, which is one positive.
Turns out I’m just completely mental on my own now. Apparently it still is ‘post natal depression’ due to my sons age and the fact it has been ongoing throughout his life so far, but it’s also a bit more than PND, I am showing some manic tendencies, which is interesting I guess?
I’m seeing things, I’m not feeling like I want to kill myself. But I definitely would rather be anywhere but here, maybe a holiday, or some kinda funky rehab centre where I can learn yoga and find myself and inner peace? Ha.
I feel like I am not being the parent that I want to be, and that my children deserve. I am letting them down. And I am letting my husband down. And I am letting my Mom down. And I need help.
But for now I’m on a bunch of waiting lists.
I’m ready for help.
And I’ll just keep plodding along until the help is ready for me.