Christmas is over. Done. I survived it. Didn’t kill anyone. Didn’t loose my mind.
My house is a mess. Toys everywhere. The child is in imagination heaven. It’s fascinating to watch.
We really need a bigger home. And a cleaner.
I need to get organised.
Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas!!!
I don’t remember where I read this, but I know I read it somewhere, or maybe I heard it somewhere. Either way.
Like many others, I struggle to verbalise my thought processes and feelings. I end up with half explained, rambles which mostly make no sense. Which is not only frustrating but also upsets me.
I can write things down no problems, but when it comes to actually verbalising the things I’ve written down, I struggle to explain it in a way others can understand.
Now that I’ve been forced to find another GP, I have to start my entire mental health referral over. I’ve already spoken to the new trust, who are happy to see me for a consult, I just need to get my GP to refer me.
I’m hoping that by writing it all down, perhaps I’ll get better luck. I’ve had CBT which has helped me with my PTSD, but I’m not any closer to an actual diagnosis (previous GP and MH team disagreed on diagnosis and reached a stalemate)
Maybe 2016 will be a better year for me, mentally. We’ll see.
I don’t really know what to say, except that I have something to say, but it’s just there, waiting. I thought that by just opening a new post and writing, well, anything would help bring whatever it is in my head, to the surface.
I’m constantly tired. I often fantasise about booking into a hotel just so I can have a bath and slip in to some clean sheets and relax and sleep, uninterrupted. As if. That idea is laughable.
1 week to Christmas, the presents are sorted, the wrapping is done. I’m just waiting. I don’t feel overly excited. In fact I don’t feel much of anything right now.
I’m always thinking, over-thinking, on top of my physical tiredness, my emotions are tired too.
I desperately need a break. Life is a constant, neverending chore. Parenting, working, housework, laundry. My outlets are no longer outlets, because I haven’t the energy to actually do them. I’m averaging 5 hours of sleep a night. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. It’s often 5 hours interrupted sleep too.
Truth be told I feel unappreciated.
I try so hard, to keep afloat, and to keep the house tidy, the washing washed, going to work and being a mother. I sometimes feel I’m doing it on my own.
A simple thank you wouldn’t go amiss, followed by, why don’t you have a nap.
I can but wish.
It’s 3 weeks until Christmas, or less in fact. So much still to do, although more or less done.
I was watching a home made Christmas documentary, a crafting one with Kirstie Allsop and she said a really interesting thing. I don’t recall it verbatim but basically it was you have a great gift if you find that you don’t want to give it, but want to keep it for yourself. I don’t want to give half of my gifts, so I’m hoping the recipients love them as much as I do.
That’s mostly my reason for neglect. So much that I forgot about me. I pushed it all to the side. Idiot.
Of course it’s come back to bite me on the ass! Of course it has.
I’ve been struggling for a formal diagnosis for a while now. The mental health facilities in the UK are very hit and miss. It’s not really anyone’s fault. It just is.
I go through periods of irrationality whilst being completely rational. Almost like I am sitting watching myself. Like a film. It’s the most surreal thing. It’s also unnervingly frightening. I’m coherent but I think things that are by no means rational.
Imagine doing the most mundane of chores. Hanging up the washing. Standing, draping clean wet underpants and socks on the clothes airer, whilst mentally calculating how much citalopram you’d need to take to die. How much is just enough to obtain help without requiring the need for having your stomach pumped.
I don’t even take citalopram.
I’m safe.
My symptoms alarm me. But I was told by a Mental Health professional, that because I realise that my thoughts are irrational and concerning, I’m not “at risk” because I’m aware and capable. I’m not a priority for assistance.
Which of course doesn’t help break the cycle. I’m clearly unwell. Unbalanced so to speak, but because I can recognise it and I can be rational and force myself to seek help, I’m not in need to assistance immediately.
I always assumed that it would make it easier to diagnose and treat me in this frame of mind. Apparently not.
The sad state of affairs that is the UK mental health service.
I’m not rich enough to seek private treatment. Im not “sick” enough to obtain proper help through the NHS.
Is it any wonder that people take things further? A lot of the time I hear the phrase “cry for help” or “seek attention for immediate treatment”.
I often wonder if it would be easier to take all of my 8 weekly medication at once, strip down to my underwear, put a saucepan on my head and walk down the high street.
I’m rational enough to understand why I’m struggling, but my thought processes are irrational.
It’s frustrating. I KNOW there’s a need for treatment, but the fact of the matter is, it’ll be a long time before I get it.
I’m sick, just not sick enough for anyone to help me when I ask.
It’s been almost 2 years since my last breakdown. I’m not sure how much longer I can last.
Unbalanced Mum 