When we lived in New Zealand, I went through a small version of Sadness. One thing A decided would help was to sort me out was setting me little challenges, learning to draw (ha! This is me! Never going to be successful!), learning to juggle, making something with sprouts that was actually nice...
Slightly by accident, this has happened again. In January, I decided we would have a month off from buying any meat or fish. We had lots in the freezer we could use if needed and also it would be good for our waistlines after Christmas to just eat more veg. At the end of January we had both enjoyed having a theme to the month and so A set a theme for February (fish) and March (Africa). It wasn't rigorous. We didn't eat fish or african cuisine for every meal but we ate more fish than usual and dabbled with dishes from Africa whenever there was a chance.
And, in terms of Sadness and in general, it has been a success. I have thoroughly enjoyed both fish month (the stand out dish was a mustard and oat topped trout dish) and Africa month (some good tagines but the winners were definitely Tunisian briks and bruinpoeding from South Africa). Having something unstressful, interesting and slightly challenging to focus on is definitely a good thing.
April's theme I fear may not be so successful. No supermarkets. While I like the idea, I fear it doesn't fall into the unstressful category and I'm also not sure it will actually be interesting enough to do good there either. But I may be wrong...or I may yet persuade A to change the theme!
Saturday 30 March 2013
Thursday 28 March 2013
Disclaimer
I've been trying to say the following in every post so far but it hasn't happened. And so a whole post of its own is required.
I don't have depression. A and I are both quite agreed on this. I do have big anxiety problems and I do, on some days, have overwhelming, crippling, prompted by nothing, out of control sadness. But it isn't depression and I don't want to minimise what other people go through with depression by claiming that it is. As already said, I get a break, a really big break often, from the sadness. And that amongst other things makes us quite sure that this is not depression. Just depression is an easy shorthand within our context to say "today was one of the sad days. I couldn't do anything much other than cry a lot. It was horrible". So to be clear from here on, if I want to talk about this side of things on here, I will call it Sadness. Then you'll know what I mean. Or at least what I don't mean.
I don't have depression. A and I are both quite agreed on this. I do have big anxiety problems and I do, on some days, have overwhelming, crippling, prompted by nothing, out of control sadness. But it isn't depression and I don't want to minimise what other people go through with depression by claiming that it is. As already said, I get a break, a really big break often, from the sadness. And that amongst other things makes us quite sure that this is not depression. Just depression is an easy shorthand within our context to say "today was one of the sad days. I couldn't do anything much other than cry a lot. It was horrible". So to be clear from here on, if I want to talk about this side of things on here, I will call it Sadness. Then you'll know what I mean. Or at least what I don't mean.
Tuesday 26 March 2013
What is normal, anyway?
Some days, I'm tickety-boo, happy as Larry, getting on with life just fine, thanks.
Yesterday was one such day. It wasn't a perfect day, all sunshine and roses, but I was fine. I reacted to the good things and bad things as I thought I should. Kids misbehaving? They get told off. Kids being fun? I enjoy them. All was level, all was even.
Friday night was another such time. As previously mentioned, A was on nights. G was really poorly during the night. Mostly awake most of the night and when asleep, crying and thrashing about (in my bed by this time). Turned out to be an ear infection and antibiotics are a marvellous thing. The reason for mentioning this episode is that it should not have been ok. You see, around midnight, G puked In My Bed. A lot of the anxiety issues I face come back to my vomit phobia. Yes, I know, no one likes being sick. But most people don't actually have panic attacks when someone is sick near them or they think they might be sick. So G pukes all over my dressing gown (there was enough warning to protect the bedding, phew) and I sit there, rubbing his back, cuddling him, wiping his mouth, telling him it will be ok. In fact, we sit there under the sick covered dressing gown until he falls asleep. Then I creep out and clear up. And it is ok. I texted A to keep him posted but not because I desperately needed his reassurance to be able to cope.
I tell you this for two reasons. One, I think while this blog is in its infancy, getting various facts out there like the vomit phobia is a useful thing to do so that as I move on, you know where I'm coming from a bit more. Success can be celebrated more easily when you know the problem overcome. Failure can be commiserated and moved on from. Two, for those of you who see me regularly, I don't want you to think I'm faking if I seem ok. Chances are, you've got a good day. I might be pretending sometimes too, though I don't think that is always bad either.
It simply isn't predictable when I will be ok and when I won't and that is, I think, my first hurdle to attack. Accepting that one day at a time means just that. Enjoy the good days, really enjoy them. And when the bad days come, remember the good days and have hope that there will be a good one again very soon. God knows my limits. He gives me days off and I must remember to be grateful.
Yesterday was one such day. It wasn't a perfect day, all sunshine and roses, but I was fine. I reacted to the good things and bad things as I thought I should. Kids misbehaving? They get told off. Kids being fun? I enjoy them. All was level, all was even.
Friday night was another such time. As previously mentioned, A was on nights. G was really poorly during the night. Mostly awake most of the night and when asleep, crying and thrashing about (in my bed by this time). Turned out to be an ear infection and antibiotics are a marvellous thing. The reason for mentioning this episode is that it should not have been ok. You see, around midnight, G puked In My Bed. A lot of the anxiety issues I face come back to my vomit phobia. Yes, I know, no one likes being sick. But most people don't actually have panic attacks when someone is sick near them or they think they might be sick. So G pukes all over my dressing gown (there was enough warning to protect the bedding, phew) and I sit there, rubbing his back, cuddling him, wiping his mouth, telling him it will be ok. In fact, we sit there under the sick covered dressing gown until he falls asleep. Then I creep out and clear up. And it is ok. I texted A to keep him posted but not because I desperately needed his reassurance to be able to cope.
I tell you this for two reasons. One, I think while this blog is in its infancy, getting various facts out there like the vomit phobia is a useful thing to do so that as I move on, you know where I'm coming from a bit more. Success can be celebrated more easily when you know the problem overcome. Failure can be commiserated and moved on from. Two, for those of you who see me regularly, I don't want you to think I'm faking if I seem ok. Chances are, you've got a good day. I might be pretending sometimes too, though I don't think that is always bad either.
It simply isn't predictable when I will be ok and when I won't and that is, I think, my first hurdle to attack. Accepting that one day at a time means just that. Enjoy the good days, really enjoy them. And when the bad days come, remember the good days and have hope that there will be a good one again very soon. God knows my limits. He gives me days off and I must remember to be grateful.
Sunday 24 March 2013
Freakout Friday
I thought I'd tell you a little about the events that preceded the birth of this blog yesterday morning.
I don't think the events are in themselves very interesting or significant, but they are the kind of thing that it is preferable to sweep under the carpet. If I am going to be honest here, I think one of the best ways of starting is to embarrass myself straight off so being honest is a little easier from then on.
A was starting night shifts yesterday and so was around in the morning. Food is always a little complicated when shifting to nocturnal for a few days so we decided for various reasons that we'd have a big breakfast. I was planning to cook but one thing and another meant that A ended up doing most of it. Towards the end of process I came into the kitchen and saw where he had put the spoon he was using to make the scrambled eggs. Propped up against what, to me, is the filthiest part of the cooker, an area we have, sadly, argued over before.
"Why would you do that?" I screech.
And then we are off. When I say we, I really mean me. A shouted back just because being shouted at isn't very fun but I'm really going for it. Higher and higher pitch, louder and louder, more and more panicked. If he can do that with the spoon, what other horrors has he committed? Do I need to tear the kitchen apart and bin all offending items?
By this time, G is howling. I should stop but I can't. A asks me to stop.
"I'm going to bed," I yell and run upstairs.
G follows, very determinedly. When he reaches my bed, we have a cuddle. Then we chat about nothing for a while before he says
"Mummy, I have an idea."
"Oh?"
"Yes, next time Daddy does something you don't like, why don't you just ask him to do something different?"
Yes, darling, why don't I just do that?
I don't think the events are in themselves very interesting or significant, but they are the kind of thing that it is preferable to sweep under the carpet. If I am going to be honest here, I think one of the best ways of starting is to embarrass myself straight off so being honest is a little easier from then on.
A was starting night shifts yesterday and so was around in the morning. Food is always a little complicated when shifting to nocturnal for a few days so we decided for various reasons that we'd have a big breakfast. I was planning to cook but one thing and another meant that A ended up doing most of it. Towards the end of process I came into the kitchen and saw where he had put the spoon he was using to make the scrambled eggs. Propped up against what, to me, is the filthiest part of the cooker, an area we have, sadly, argued over before.
"Why would you do that?" I screech.
And then we are off. When I say we, I really mean me. A shouted back just because being shouted at isn't very fun but I'm really going for it. Higher and higher pitch, louder and louder, more and more panicked. If he can do that with the spoon, what other horrors has he committed? Do I need to tear the kitchen apart and bin all offending items?
By this time, G is howling. I should stop but I can't. A asks me to stop.
"I'm going to bed," I yell and run upstairs.
G follows, very determinedly. When he reaches my bed, we have a cuddle. Then we chat about nothing for a while before he says
"Mummy, I have an idea."
"Oh?"
"Yes, next time Daddy does something you don't like, why don't you just ask him to do something different?"
Yes, darling, why don't I just do that?
Friday 22 March 2013
An Introduction
Hi, I'm Jen.
I've blogged in the past at different stages of life and I've been resisting rejoining the blogosphere for a little while now. However, I've found I need a little bit of space to get things out of me. I thought long and hard about why I might want to blog rather than just write a diary and I came down to two things that made me decide to go bloggy.
First, I might keep it up a bit better than a diary. I have never been good at keeping up a diary, I have in the past been quite good at keeping up blogging.
Second, some of the stuff, some of the time, I might like second opinions on. I know I might not get them, and I might not like the opinions if I do get them but we shall see! I'm at a time in life where, with two small children, I basically don't get to finish a conversation ever. And I've realised that, among other things, this is starting to cause me some problems.
So that is why a blog.
And now, why anything at all? Well. Since my daughter was born in September 2011, I have struggled with mood swings and generally not being the person I'd like to be that often. It was never quite post natal depression and so it was never quite dealt with. In late December 2012, side effects from some medication pushed me fully into an anxiety and depression cycle. I stopped the medication. After about six weeks, I could tell the side effects were clear but I had not returned to myself. It felt as if a switch had been flipped. I ignored it for a month or so, after all, I was so much better, it would probably go away if swept under the carpet. Not so. Over the past three or four weeks, I have realised I am going to have to Do Something About It. This blog is the start of that something. Somewhere I am going to try to be spectacularly honest about what is going on in my head. Somewhere that perhaps others will want to help me challenge myself and see if I can break this cycle. Somewhere that might give me the courage to do some of the things that might help.
So there you have it. That is what this blog is all about. For now.
I've blogged in the past at different stages of life and I've been resisting rejoining the blogosphere for a little while now. However, I've found I need a little bit of space to get things out of me. I thought long and hard about why I might want to blog rather than just write a diary and I came down to two things that made me decide to go bloggy.
First, I might keep it up a bit better than a diary. I have never been good at keeping up a diary, I have in the past been quite good at keeping up blogging.
Second, some of the stuff, some of the time, I might like second opinions on. I know I might not get them, and I might not like the opinions if I do get them but we shall see! I'm at a time in life where, with two small children, I basically don't get to finish a conversation ever. And I've realised that, among other things, this is starting to cause me some problems.
So that is why a blog.
And now, why anything at all? Well. Since my daughter was born in September 2011, I have struggled with mood swings and generally not being the person I'd like to be that often. It was never quite post natal depression and so it was never quite dealt with. In late December 2012, side effects from some medication pushed me fully into an anxiety and depression cycle. I stopped the medication. After about six weeks, I could tell the side effects were clear but I had not returned to myself. It felt as if a switch had been flipped. I ignored it for a month or so, after all, I was so much better, it would probably go away if swept under the carpet. Not so. Over the past three or four weeks, I have realised I am going to have to Do Something About It. This blog is the start of that something. Somewhere I am going to try to be spectacularly honest about what is going on in my head. Somewhere that perhaps others will want to help me challenge myself and see if I can break this cycle. Somewhere that might give me the courage to do some of the things that might help.
So there you have it. That is what this blog is all about. For now.
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