The happy hormone

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So it’s been a while since my last blog post. I started this blog for a few reasons, but mainly to document my experiences throughout pregnancy and being a mum. While I was never stupid enough to think being a parent would be easy, I always thought I’d be able to find the funny, light-hearted side to things, which is something I have always tried to bring to my writing. Losing my way a bit has meant I’ve lost that a bit recently and so I’ve not felt like writing much – I bore myself by feeling down in the dumps so I think you guys sure as shit don’t want to hear it. However, as I try to work my way through this particular stage of motherhood, I realised that while the shits and giggles are all well and good, talking about how I feel right now is actually more important than ever. So here I am. And here’s hoping that soon I’ll find that funny again, for all our sakes 😉

I’m now half way through my therapy sessions and they’re going really well. I always leave feeling much better about things and like I’m slowly starting to piece together why I’ve felt and often still feel the way I do. This has definitely left me feeling more confident and able to cope with the things Rex throws at me. However, while my relationship with my son is gradually building, last weekend Eamo and I almost reached breaking point. We argued over the smallest thing and it escalated into a full-blown row with us both acknowledging that we are struggling.

We talked for a long time. The same issues came up, he’s fed up of feeling like he’s constantly upsetting me and walking on eggshells around me. I’m fed up with feeling like his life hasn’t changed. At. All. I explained how, right now, every ounce of energy I have goes into making sure Rex is happy, and that I feel like I don’t have anything left to give to anything else, including me, him and our relationship. As we talked things through, I could tell how sad we both felt that things had seemingly deteriorated between us so much. But there was also feelings of hope, love and determination that we will get through it together. That moment was a turning point for me. I realised there and then that none of this was fair on any of us and the next morning I would make an appointment at the doctors to discuss the possibility of medication to help me start to get a grip again. I made a silent promise to myself, Eamo and Rex that I would do whatever it took to get better. And I will absolutely keep that promise.

Today I went to that appointment and I was absolutely dreading it. As much as I knew I needed to go, I didn’t want to. No part of me wants to start taking antidepressants, but my well-being and the well-being of my family made me walk in to that surgery, sit down in front of my doctor and pour my heart out through streams of tears.

It’s in these situations that the person you speak to can make all the difference. I was terrified that she wouldn’t understand how I felt or just not be interested. But I needn’t have worried because I genuinely could not have a better doctor. I explained that I had started therapy as I really wanted to work things out on my own but felt I was running out of options, even though this past week I have started to feel a bit better. After listening, reassuring and comforting me, my doctor explained that while she would be happy to put me on medication if that was what I wanted, she completely respected the fact that I wanted to try and work things out on my own. And to that effect, I should keep going to therapy but also see her weekly for the forseeable too. While she acknowledged how I felt, she also explained that Rex is still very young and my hormones are still playing silly buggers.

Her advice in the meantime was to try and make a few changes at home, for example, make sure I do two things each week completely on my own, and one thing where just Eamo and I are together. I also clung on to her comment that I have massively high expectations of myself as a mum and the fact that Rex is a well cared for, healthy happy baby is testament to the job I’m doing with him. Despite balling my eyes out the entire time, it took everything in me not to hug her as I left her room. My doctor doesn’t have children so she couldn’t directly relate to what I was saying, which makes her all the more remarkable, in my opinion. She couldn’t have been more understanding and empathetic, and it genuinely meant the world to me. So, that’s the plan. I go to therapy on a Tuesday and doctors on a Thursday. And there was me thinking I’d be bored on maternity leave 😉

For a long time I felt like going to the doctors or asking for help was a sign of weakness and that I’d failed. Since Rex was born, I’ve felt like I’ve failed at a lot of things along the way, much of which is why I’ve struggled so much. But now I look at seeking help, whether that be in the form of therapy or a little pill that manages the balance a bit, as a show of strength. And anyone out there who can identify with anything I’ve written should too. I’ve realised that feeling overwhelmed and unable to cope, in any stage of life, is way more common than I thought, but it’s only when you start a conversation on the subject that people start to open up, talk and feel better in the thought that they are not alone. So I for one will be doing my best to keep this conversation going (and hope that I don’t bore the tits off you in the process) ❤  xxx

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