On Not Being Ok

So I wasn't lying that other time when I said I was ok.  I was.  Truly.  But now I'm not.  That's the fun thing about mental illness.  It's all swings and roundabouts and it never, ever stops.

The awesome thing about having been through this all before though is that I am slowly learning to recognise when I'm not ok a little earlier.  So what that means is that while I'm not ok at the moment, I'm not terrible.  I'm not dangerous.  I'm not crazy - I just know that if I don't do anything I will no doubt become so in time.  And because of my history, and because I am already on medication for anxiety (sertraline - only relatively 'safe' one for pregnancy/breastfeeding) shortly after telling my Dr I was not ok BAM!  There are phone calls from three different places all at once.

Because while the government is crappy and has removed much funding and resources for mental health (and health in general) it appears they are still a bit freaked out about Mums killing their babies.  So while I'm not at MDK* level as yet, it's nice to know that they will still step in to check and ensure my family is safe.**

And they are.  I don't want to even be seen as someone's 'mad Mum' so I managed to access help BEFORE it got to totally that crazy person point.

*                            *                            *                            *                               *                            *       

As things stand now, I'm actually really good.  I started writing this post a few weeks ago, but haven't had time or brain to continue it until now.  One of the things with my particular type of crazy and having had it for a while is that as soon as I ask for help, I immediately feel better.  Consequently, asking for help starts me on the road to getting better immediately.

The first thing that happened after talking to my Dr is I received a phone call from an agency to have an interview with a Dr, a maternity mental health worker and a psychologist at my home.  The second thing that happened is I had a phone call from the counselor who works in conjunction with my Drs to arrange for a counseling session (I can get four for free through my Drs). 

And while the counseling has not been especially helpful*** that meeting at home with the three professionals was brilliant.  For starters I discovered I'm on a very low dose of my medication so have a lot of wriggle room there if I feel like it's not quite enough.  While I haven't as yet changed my medication, that was extremely helpful to know.  It made me feel like things were not that bad at all as I was actually almost coping with very little back up - which is almost as good as coping!

It also helped me realise the main reason I was so unwell was because I was not sleeping.  Duh?  Of course people who don't sleep start to go a bit nuts!  But pinning down that simple thing when you are sleep deprived is not so simple.  This also made me feel again like given the circumstances I was not such a crap loser Mum after all.

And the lovely maternity mental health lady has been brilliant.  She has visited me once a week every week since this first meeting just to check in on how I'm doing.  Because she is just a nice person this doesn't feel threatening, just actually helpful ie: I don't freak out and clean my house before she's due.  She also hooked me up with an anxiety group for Mums which is brilliant.  It's nice revisiting CBT and also just talking about normal stressful Mum crap with other Mums in the same boat as me.  And there are nannies there who mind our littlies so we can attend!  This week I also discovered a shower nearby so am seriously considering dropping Abby off with the nannies and showering before the group.  Double bonus!

And while the external help has been amazing, the thing that has got me most on track to being ok is that Abby has changed.  With age and osteo I no longer have a baby that screams whenever awake, and especially from 4 - 10pm.  I now have a very happy, very fat, very tall baby who is a total sweetheart.  Sure, she doesn't sleep properly and cat naps just like Etta did and still has to co-sleep at night (hence my being so tired) but she is hitting milestones and smiling and not screaming at me all day. 

You cannot overestimate the impact being screamed at constantly has on a person.  Seriously.  Especially when it's from someone you are supposed to care about.  It's awful.  It's nerve-wracking.  I am sure it must have been used as a method of torture at some point in history.  And if you've also had no sleep it's completely insanity-driving.  All Mummies of refluxy/colicy/sick/sad/scream-all-the-timey babies are fucking champions just to survive each hour of screaming.  I am glad that I no longer have to be one of these champion Mummies because it's been one of the hardest things I've had to do in all my life.

 My happy 15 week old Abby not screaming

Now that the screamening is over there is room in my brain for actual thoughts.  I can remember what it is to be someone other than a slave to the scream.  And I can spend time with Etta and feel like I'm being a proper Mum again.  And even play board games with Murray occasionally and feel like some kind of a partner.  And now Abby is (cat) napping during the day in her bassinet I even get a little time to myself sometimes.  Quiet time.  Time to just sit and focus on myself as an entity for a bit.  And just being able to do that, to quietly sit, is what is really helping me to be ok.

*Murder Death Kill.  Get some Robocop in you ya'll!
** It would be even nicer if the government cared about me before I had kids but it seems like maybe that's asking for too much

*** Counseling has never been my bag.  Given how long I've been in and out of therapy (almost 20 years) I feel like I know more than she does and everything she says is just boring old lady advice.  But I'm going.  I don't want to get in trouble or feel like I'm not doing 'all I should' to be 'well'.  Sigh.  Only two sessions to go.