37. Female. Married, happily (mostly, who we kidding) 3 perfect children. Owns a house. 2 cars. Job I love. Bathroom cupboard with a light up door. On paper all is good.
In my head, it’s foggy. Confused. Erratic. Busy.
Some days I feel productive, I own this. Let’s start a business! That thing I made last Wednesday I could sell them on Etsy and become a crafting genius. Then some days, I can’t move. I stare at things for a long time. I try and write or tidy or frame photos and I’m really going to but then I don’t. I stare at the laundry on the bedroom floor and will myself to carve out some time to make my bedroom nice so I could relax in it. But then I need a coffee and that carved time just dissolves. And then I’m disappointed. Mostly in myself.
Some days I write meal plans. I get out recipe books and vow to make dinner most nights rather than defrost it. I get on a roll, order the ingredients, excited to have superfoods in my shopping basket again and they sit in the cupboard and the fridge. Dinner time comes and I want to cry.
The worst days are the ones when all the emotions in me all collide for top spot. Happiness, frustration, perfection, anger, patience, sadness, guilt. Fast, fast emotions. They explode off each other. I hear all the noises, all the time. Everything’s out of place. Everyone’s annoying me. I feel awkward and cross. It all fizz’s up and then goes off like a firework in my brain. Not the pretty kind of firework you get at Disneyland, no, the really shit ones that make a massive noise that makes all the children cry and then has 3 spots of blurred, disappointing colour. Then come the tears. Lots and lots of tears.
The fun fact on all these days is that there is no pattern. I don’t have one then the other then the other so I can plan what might help. I have a few a days of blankness. I remember nothing. I retract from all things social. I’m paranoid I’ve upset someone. I look like someone whose had a really good night out but a terrible morning. My make up seems to absorb into my skin and I’m all weird looking.
Then I have a great day. I look pretty and can make conversation with anyone. I make a Superzing house with working lift for my son and create a colour coded sensory learning game for him and my baby girl. Yes I did that.
Life feels good and I think I’ve turned the corner but my head is still whirring and I can’t turn it off. My heart races and I sit on an evening, finding myself on the edge of the chair.
It’s exhausting. For the first time in my life my mental health is not good. It’s scary. It’s to be expected really. My mum died in front of me, unexpectedly and like a wounded trauma victim I’m still staggering around only just now noticing that the back of my head got blown off and I’m bleeding out. However, I was trained by the best. My mum was a nurse. She taught me not to panic. Control the bleeding and get help. So I am and I will. My head will never be the same again but I’ll buy a nice hat. Back to the paper.
37. Female. Parent of 3 young children. Wrung out. Grieving. Knackered. Lost who I am. Elated if I have clean underwear. Angry. Grateful for what I do have. Sad. And the bathroom cupboard with the light up door…it’s broken. The fucker.