Anyway, that aside, it's nice to be back writing here again. I have written some stuff while I've been off Blogger so it's not like I haven't been writing at all, it just hasn't been quite the same.
The last month or so has been really hard. I've felt very down and things have been struggling along. I went through a period of not being able to get out of bed in the morning which is unusual for me. When I say not being able to get out of bed I mean consistantly running half an hour or more late for work. I set at least 3 alarms and I was turning off one or two of them in my sleep without even registering that they had gone off. Some mornings I'd only manage to wake up 20 minutes before I needed to be out of the house and I was not showering for several days in a row because I didn't have time or the energy.
Little G was quite difficult to deal with towards the end of the school term. Her anxiety levels were high and I was having trouble responding to her from a calm, empathetic place. She can read me like a book and her anxiety often feeds off mine so that wasn't helping, plus she also had some pretty big stuff she was dealing with emotionally. Her Dad was getting remarried and she was scared and unsure about what that was going to mean for her. When her anxiety levels run high she attempts to control all the other things in her life to make her feel safe and secure. I've been there, I get that, but as a parent it's incredibly frustrating to have an 8 year old try to run your life and your household. This leads to a battle of wills over almost everything, including school refusal which she has a long history of doing.
When I'm unwell and I have this child refusing point blank to go to school or do anything she's told, and throwing fits and stomping off every fifteen seconds, I struggle. My emotions are already hightened and so it doesn't take much to throw my system into high alert and it takes a long time to calm down again. I have constant thoughts about how I have ruined her, how it's my fault she struggles with anxiety in the first place, my fault she has the issues she does.I think I should be doing more for her. I worry that she'll turn out like me and have to deal with mental illness throughout her life. My brain tells me I am a terrible parent and a pathetic person and that she would be better off without me.
With these emotions running around in my head constantly, they play havoc with the rest of my system too. My stomach oftent feels like it's cramping or has butterflies, my heart palpitates, I get headaches and pain in my face from clenching my teeth and a stiff back and neck from hunching up, almost as if I am physically trying to protect myself. And let's not even mention the effect of all this stress on my bowels!!
Through all of this, plus work stress (major deadlines to meet for various clients at this time of year) and extended family issues, I've had individual events that each have momentarily pushed me off balance. One of those was an appointment I had with my psychiatrist at the end of June. Historically I don't have a good track record with psychiatrists. I've been under the care of Community Mental Health (CMH)/psychiatric outpatients for about 3.5 years and in that time I've seen something like 8 different psychiatrists. Unfortunately that's the way the system works - you see a registrar and so every 6 months the registrar assigned to that consultant moves on and you get a new one. Sometimes you get that registrar back again after 18 months or so when they have had a number of rotations. I've been under the care of the consultant for 'red zone' the whole time, but I've only actually been seeing the consultant himself instead of the registrar for about a year. In that time there's been two or three different ones because they change jobs or leave.
(*registrar = trainee psychiatrist with degree and 1-4 years experience, consultant = fully qualified and 'boss' in charge of registrars for a certain area. The region I live in is divided into zones by CMH and I live in red zone).
So the consultant I saw at the end of June I've seen twice before (roughly every 3 months), but neither time went particularly well. I tend to be difficult to deal with as I don't understand what they are asking for or how to answer their questions, and I take offence to some of the things they have to say. For some reason the whole situation upsets me and the appointment often ends with me having said something I shouldn't have or refusing to speak to them at all. When this happens I know I am not behaving well but once I have been triggered I find it incredibly difficult to act rationally as my emotions are fully in the driving seat.
In the middle of all this Little G has been sick, we've had school holidays, we are supposed to be following a plan from the continence nurse for her to try and sort out her bed wetting (not happening - she refuses to follow it), I've had family issues and financial pressure, Little G's Dad got married, two of my colleague resigned - one I worked with particularly closely, and my back problem has flared up again. Not to mention that Little G was away in the school holidays so I was on my own for a week. And then the appointment with the communication and behaviour team that I've been waiting for since Little G was diagnosed with ASD two years ago finally happened, and it wasn't quite what I'd pictured.
Suddenly I again felt all this guilt and doubt about my child and shame about my own mental health affecting her, and scared of what they might suggest. I've hung so many hopes on this appointment and to finally get it and find that I was going to be expected to carry out their plan to change Little G's behaviour was very daunting. I don't know what I thought they would do but I hadn't imagined that I would be such a key part of it. For some reason I had thought it would be more about them working with her directly. And that really threw me. Because what if I wasn't good enough? It would be my fault again if the plan didn't work. I doubted my ability to carry anything out and suport her.
I freaked out. I think I subconsiously equated her communication and behaviour problems to my own as a child and I don't want her to go through what I have. The pressure of having to be the person to help her when I am so fully aware of the possible consquences of getting it wrong tore me apart. Then I started blaming myself for my poor mental health and the damage I'd already done to her. I know attachment is really important and forming a secure bond with your child sets them up for the best possible outcomes in life. I also know that I have been inconsistent and at times very unwell and that Little G's and my bond is not as secure as I'd like. I'm working on it but I'm always scared I'll screw up.
I'd already been having suicidal thoughts for weeks. I live with them. Sometimes those thoughts are louder and sometimes quieter but they are almost always there. These are the ones that tell me I want to die, that no one would miss me, that there is no point to life, that people would be better off without me being a burden on them. When I really freak out I start also hallucinating suicide scenarios, which tend to scare me even further. I get in the car in my garage and I can see myself closing the doors, putting the windows down and killing myself with carbon monoxide from the exhaust fumes. I see myself in the bath with blood running down my arms, or head in a noose hanging from a tree. I frequently picture myself walking into the sea with all my clothes on and drowning. When I'm driving I can see myself plowing into power poles or into something solid.
Living with these thoughts and hallucinations is really scary sometimes, particularly when I tend to be impulsive and I'm aware I can't always trust myself when I feel like this. Telling anyone you have this mess in your head is impossible. I still can't quite believe I've written it down because it almost looks worse on the page than it did in my head. How do you tell someone who cares about you that you want to die so much that you vividly picture multiple suicide scenarios daily, sometimes hourly.
And yet, and yet.... if there is one tiny kernel of hope in all of this, it is that I am still here. I am still taking things moment by moment. I mostly remember and follow my crisis survival and distress tolerance strategies. I mostly take care of myself. Any one of these stressful situations would have triggered a full meltdown with alcohol and a lengthy cutting session only a few months ago. Not to say I haven't cut because unfortunately I have. But just a bit and it was the first time in four months which is something I feel proud of. I am ashamed that I have self harmed again, but I do acknowledge the progress I am making. Small steps. Progress is a series of steps, and even if they are tiny I am making them.
One song I am listening to a lot is Let It Be (The Beatles). It fits nicely with the mindset I'm trying to cultivate.
Kia Kaha
