Mummy & Mental Health :)

The Silence Explained.

I haven’t been around much on Instagram lately due to my mental health plummeting. Constant thoughts of being worthless, my boys & hubby needed more than I could give – failing them or so my head tricked me into believing. This hasn’t been the first that those thoughts have occurred in fact they reoccur far to often. I open up & asked for help but due to the NHS service being stretched my screams for help where ignored. I couldn’t take the pain any longer, suicide the only solution a brain in self destruct could muster.

Dark places breed dark thoughts & dark thoughts manifest into depraved actions.

Last week I ended up swallowing the contets of my weekly dosette. Cap or pill I gulped them down like it was a pick & mix of my favourite sweets, not once was I scared nor did I even think to myself to stop. Desperation meant all I really wanted to do was end the pain & suffering, for good.

Luckily I was discovered early enough & was rushed to A&E in the back of an ambulance sirens screeching & blue lights flashed on my way. That’s the last thing I remember my hubby has had to fill in the gaps for me. I arrived in hospital where they advised I was stable after a few hours things changed due to some of the medication being slow release. My Hubby was told to go home but 2 hours later he got that dreaded call from a doctor for him to return to the hospital immediately, things had took a real turn for the worst! My body started shutting down & I had flat lined. I was put on a ventilator relying on life support to keep me alive, My husband was being prepared for his wife & his boys mummy to die. Dialysis was also provided to clear the toxins, My body failing the fight of my life was being fought for me by NHS Staff & Equipment.

My Hubby broken at my bedside held my hand & prayed to God that I was going to be okay he said it is an image that he will never ever forget, it would be given he cant watch Casualty never mind me with tubes, wires & a more electrics than R2D2.

I wouldn’t be hear today without the care of CCU4 Staff, The NHS & the thoughts & prayers of everyone who reached out.

Why did I even begin to think it was okay for me to leave my wee team?
Who would moan at them to put away there shoes & jackets?

As soon as I came round I felt utter guilt & shame, I’m lucky to be sitting here today I’ve been given a second chance at life & I’m grabbing it with both hands. Please if you ever feel the way I felt seek help reach out even go to A&E & beg them, refuse to leave if need be.

Life is precious, negative thoughts couldn’t be further from the truth. I know that bad times will always surface along with intrusive thoughts but it’s something I will be prepared for I’ll arm myself in every way possible because I made a promise on both my Boys life’s that I will never act on my thoughts again because next time i might not be so lucky, I also possibly couldn’t put my hubby through that again.

Hospital staff worked round the clock to save my life & I’ll be forever grateful they are the reason my boys still have a mummy. Super hero’s who deserve more recognition.

Thankyou

♡

Remember, Remember the ̶5̶t̶h̶ 4th of November….

Before I start this is most definitely not going to be an easy read*
Rockets SOAR – My Anxiety does to.Catherine Wheels SPIN – My Stomach does to.Bangers EXPLODE – My Head does to.
The Bonfire that is Borderline Personality Disorder kept getting bigger & bigger, before long it was out of control. Suicidal thoughts flirted dangerously with the flames, Voices like fuel just adding & adding to the toxic fire burning inside me.
BANG.
I have done dangerous things in the past, daring & depraved acts that were aimed at hurting myself as opposed to any parliamentary house. My illness is unpredictably dangerous, unstable & out of control at times. Thursday was the single scariest moment of my life. I felt I had no option but to give up and end my life. I consumed a week’s worth of medication (roughly 200 tablets) – Sadly I knew what I was doing. Carefully, sneakily & desperately popping every last slot of my dosette box. Please do not ever get to this stage, seek help. I know more than anyone how absolutely f*cking shit our Mental Health Services can be but absolutely nothing prepares you for the flashbacks of monumental moments in your life as your life flashes by your half shut eyes. Priadel is a Lithium based medication that I was on & the main instigator in shutting down my body, extinguishing the flames of my life & ultimately killing me. I won’t hesitate to explain to anyone that is feeling similar just how f*cking terrifying this was. I am still dealing with the physical and mental effects of my own actions. I owe my life to a Ventilator in Critical Care 4 in the QEUH.
Ventilated & Dialysed with 2:1 care from Critical Care, Renal Specialists with my Hubby holding my hand believing I was gone for good. Gravely ill with my 2 beautiful kids unaware that Mummy was being dragged from the fingertips of Hell whilst they set about their daily lives dangerously ignorant to what the loss of a parent may do to them. HOW/WHY? What the F*ck made me think that this was in anyway my escape?
I’m 35 in a matter of weeks. My fire should burn for years to come. Yes some days will threaten to suffocate me but better days will come again.
I have a second chance at life now thanks to the NHS Staff who saved my life. I gave up on me but they didn’t. I have a long way to go but I will never, ever consider Suicide as a meaningful end to my standing as Mummy to my 2 beautiful kids & Wife to a supporting Hubby who’s prayed more in the last week than ever in his life.
I’m Sorry. Today things change for good, I’m going to make a change in Scotlands Mental Health game.
Thankyou as always

♡

Better Days Are Coming.

Well I don’t really know where to actually begin! The past few weeks my life has had highs, lows & plenty of I can’t do this anymores, nearly 3 weeks out of hospital and my emotions are still changing on a Glasgow weather system basis. My mood kind of represents the weather coming to think of it one minute im in a world of Sunshine-like happyness, the next it’s raining tears of sadness, then the next it’s gusty winds of anxiety followed by finally the thundering storms of anger.

Ashamedly I’ve lost count in the past weeks how many times I’ve told
My Hubby it’s over & I’m leaving, I really don’t mean it as I love him more than anything & he is my rock but sometimes I just feel if you distance yourself from the people you love that it somehow prepares the perfect guilt free path for self sabotage without anyone being hurt apart from me. This is exactly how I feel when I’m thinking irrationally but once I calm down & able to look from a wise mind state I’m able to think logically & emotionally about my thoughts, feelings & erratic behaviours.

My physical health has again been predictably f*ckin unpredictable, my diabetes has evolved to the extent I’m Insulin dependant. For the past 10 or so I’ve felt really unwell, tired, weak & lethargic. Just walking to the toilet felt like I was running in the Olympics! Legs shaking like jelly everytime I stood up, the stairs to my bedroom felt like an unscalable podium. A&E visit after A&E visit followed, I think even the cleaners know me on first name terms by now.

Times have been shitty recently & I feel guilty for being in Hospital for large parts of the school holidays but better days are coming. My oldest son starts the big, bad world of secondary school where he’ll no doubt still think he’s Jack The Lad & My Hubby is starting a new job after a long spell at home caring for me & Covid rendering his last role redundant – I’m anxious about being left alone to safeguard myself but I know that this is a positive step for us as a family & sometimes you have to jump in the deep-end to learn to swim.

Again, “Better Days are coming”

♡

Freedom.

Remember my Dooms Day Post about discharge? Remember the trembling fear? Remember the almost hallucinational like premonation of failure? Well today is the day…. D DAY – I’m being discharged from the lovely boutique Casa Le Dale, Leverndale Hospital.

Am I anxious? Yep.
Am I scared? Yep.
Is thisnormal ? I think so, infact I know so, absof*ckinloutely normal. When my psychiatrist gave me this date for discharge I freaked out completely, I thought “your f*cking at it I’m not ready” I was still struggling with intrusive thoughts & was so low I could feel the flames of Hell burning my Bum. The immediate thoughts inside my Head resembeled a field full of stolen cars , cars thats horns were actually a voice yelling ‘I can’t do it’.

As times moved on & I’ve tip-toed closer to D-Day my mindset has changed, my mood has lifted a bit, not much but there’s bright colours, sunlight not only outside but inside my body, my blood is warm the thought of being home is exciting, Holiday-esque exciting. I’ve managed to keep resonating the fact that I’ve been here before & have survived so I can and will be okay. I’m looking forward to being home with my little team & enjoying the summer holidays making more precious memories to treasure, thats the thing about an abscence you chase the memories you may have missed out on harder, I can’t wait to make more.

Nervous but excited. My own bed. My hubby. My boys & My Frenchies, One day at a time & small steps all the way. My little team are absolutely buzzing for me to get home to them, it’s a mutual “Buzz” I cant wait to put this behind me & restart my recovery, I have goals that I wont share for now. I just need to keep reminding myself that I need to take things slow, not to jump straight into things because I know it will only make me struggle again. I can honestly say that my time on the ward has been very positive, some negatives & the recent discovery that one horrible patient is a paedophile did loads to help accelerate my exit. Thats my one take from this admission, my advice to anyone who finds themself in a similar hospital stay be wary of what & who is in with you.

Today I’m Free.

♡

Walking Towards The Light.

Will I ever be ready? Will I ever be in a frame of mind that I feel comfortable out of hospital? Of course I will but I feel like setting a date is a bit too optimistic for now although my Doctor doesn’t, my wonderful Dr who I can rarely be critical about but the same medical professional who failed to listen to me before & prematurely sent me on my way despite my concerns about preserving my own safety.

Safety works two ways I get that. Yes I must take some ownership & be accountable for the moments where I do feel so defeated that I deem playing tig with oncoming traffic a perfectly ok thing to do. I mean what 12 year old kid wants to take on a Mummy role within the house helping his Daddy because I’ve maybe been defeated by my illness. Safety also works in the sense or risk. Risk management or Risk assessing – Do I want to be in hospital for 8 months like 2019? No chance. Do I want 6 months like 2018? No F*cking way. Do I feel like in the 4 weeks I’ve been in hospital I’ve recovered progressively to a point of control? Nope. 4 weeks is nothing in the grand scheme of things, listen for those who possibly judge me. I miss my kids. I miss my Hubby & I miss the beautiful family we form. My free time is taken up & utilised by being with my little team. Every night tears stroll my cheeks at the thought of kissing my youngest good night via Facetime (My oldest is too cool for kissing his wee ma now sadly). I dont want to be away from ‘Real Life’ long term but I am terrified sending me home to soon might be enough to take me away forever. It’s tough living with this illness but I can see light st the end of the tunnell I just don’t need to be stuck on a rocket & shot through the tunnell faster than I can cope with.

Things need to slow down, I’m moving forward slowly but if they push me to fast I’ll fall & I want to be heard on that. Recovery should not be time scaled, I might be charging slowly but that suits me a lot better than plugging me into a fast charger & burning a fuse.

The unknown is scary. Am I ready? No. Will they listen? F*ck knows.

♡

X

Holding on.

Describing the last few days as Horrendous would be Horrendously untrue. It’s been torture both mentally & physically, the voices only interupted by the thumping torment of an abcess in my mouth. Sometimes it feels like the world is conspiring against you.

The Ward has been off the scale mental the last few days – if it’s not been patients threatening me it’s been staff ignorant to the fact that my sensitivity is dangerously unbalanced & the comments some can brush off, disregard & ignore simply aren’t that easy for me to process. I’ve absconded twice this week my head in such a dark place that I thought it would be a good idea to play Chicken with oncoming traffic. Thankfully my Hubby’s a big bit more switched on than the staff & my phone location showed I had left the hospital, the sight of his picture & Caller ID appearing on my phone was enough to give me a big dose of “why let them win”.

I’m struggling to keep myself safe at the minute I jist wish something would change, something would click & drag me through this storm. Better days are coming they say but when? When will this constant onslaught get to f*ck.

Even in the midst of the chaos I’ve managed to get out for some time with my Hubby & the boys. Last night it was dinner & a wee walk hand in hand a family chain I held a little tighter than normal they dont know it but they help me exist, the belly deep laughter of my youngest boy provoked a smile & some momentary warmth. A leg & a wing to see the King’ the innocence of my unaware prince giggling as me & my Hubby hurled him through the air was so cute – It’s these little things I cling onto, cling so hard that they’ll swing my mindset. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to die. I adore my family. We have dreams to chase but just let this nightmare end soon.

One step at a time.

♡

X

D Day.

It’s Judgement Day, Discharge was provisionally set for this Wednesday. Am I ready? Nope. Do I want help? Yes. Will I get more time to recover? I f*cking hope so…

I guess its easier to yell into Blog Form to express how I feel. I am scared, broken & feel like I’m in a new found state where I’m actively agreeing with my inner critic. I try to humour or ignore the crazy thoughts or suggestions normally but right now nothing is normal.

I am volatile, erratic & detached. Detached but needy, erratic but calculated & volatile but powerless. I know the immediate thinking might be that I’m only presenting this way because discharge may be near but please, please listen to me I am scared. I understand hospital is not beneficial long term but suicide isnt either. I am not as far down the road of self confidence in keeping myself safe as I had hoped. Motherhood is my greatest achievement but my biggest regret right now – I go home on my free time & almost constantly have a negative outlook. It’s not a nice thing to admit but I need time to recover, to negate the darkness but most importantly to learn to love & miss my family. I am not a nice person to be around just now, timescale wise I ask not for months & months but purely to put a pin in this for now. I do not feel safe & I do not want to let my boys or Hubby down, I want to live but the voices are dismissing that want & I cannot cope with them.

I am sorry if this is deep & hard hitting but I sometimes dont know how to explain with words how dark the darkness is. My heads spins like the sky considering or calculating how to die but how to live. My mindset is so negatively beaten that I am debating my marriage & role as a Mother, I want to be a Wife, I love being a Mother but I hate the Wife & Mother my illness turns me into. I adore my wee family but my illness selfishly dictates I deserve nobody. I cant go home as this person I need more time, I need to get better, Im not saying 100% better but even an extra 10% or an hour less of toxic thoughts its so fucking hard but its where im at I feel like sometimes I unconciously slip into saying things are better than they are. I’m typing this on the toilet in tears I hate this shit I just want a break from my head.

The hardest thing with having Borderline Personality Disorder is that sometimes I feel the illness guidelines are followed rather than an individual sufferers needs. Hospitilsation & the Hospital Enviroment is said to be counter productive for BPD so I feel this is constantly focused on rather than my actual thoughts. I hope they listen today – I’m scared but engaging. I want the best form of me for my wee family. I don’t want angry, short tempered me. I want the Me that hugs long & tight enjoying the warmth of the 6 hands that make up my family.

Pray they listen.

♡

1 Step Forward. 4 Steps Back.

The saying goes ‘1 step forward, 2 steps back’ try 4 steps back, steps dug defeated & tear soaked into my current abode – The Hospital.

I was admitted back into Hospital just over a week ago due to overwhelming thoughts of Suicide, my inner critics haunting voice barking the darkest of self sabotage suggestions at me 24/7 has taken me to a place that I don’t feel confident about keeping myself safe. Thats the thing right, I have actively chased help to the extent I was begging, a hopeless & defeated Mummy of 2 beautiful boys pining for safety, pining for a relief, a life jacket to keep me above the sea of misery that threatens to swallow me.

Defeated but only temporarily I know I will get better. BPD is a life time diagnosis a tricky f*cker of an Illness but I know better days will come again but for now it’s about recovering slowly & bouncing back as good a Mummy as I can be.

Hospitals a mad, mad place – literally. I hate the way my current stay feels like that im a Burden. Lots of lovely staff have left & been replaced by emotionless robots determined to push me over the edge.

I’m out of my isolation period now so Visits through a window are thankfully a thing of the past, I mean who wants an “Air Hug” with your children through a window caked in the local Pidgeon Platoons finest.

My Discharge Date looms & I worry that I’m not ready to go home, im scared I feel like I’m being forced to say things are better than they are. Yes I want home to my wee family but I don’t want to end up back here. Why don’t people listen?

What does it take?

Who knows me best? Me, the victim of years of horrific mental torture from an illness I can’t control or f*cking “Nancy” from the Crisis Team who suggests a cup of Tea will wipe all my misery away. Who knew Tetleys was such a powerful preventative from the most depraved thoughts of destruction. I do not want to die. I want help like I have done for the last 6 weeks, 42 days of an internal dictator bawling at me to end it all.

Do not judge me please, I am back to the ‘Ninja Mode’ I spoke of in Blogs in the past, Ninja Mode is my most dangerous & deceptive behaviour, my desperation means self harm ain’t “cutting it” anymore – pardon the pun… The lust for another Statistic is fuelling the fire inside me that my inner critic burns. Medication doesn’t distinguish flames when they engulf 80% of your body, I need help. I needed it when I was hospitalised, I got that help for a total period of 7 days. My pleas, My Hubbys pleas that I wasn’t safe were disregarded.

I hate that some will read this & think how could anyone possibly leave 2 little boys without a mummy through choice. Actually I don’t hate it, I’d be the same. I am just so, so miserable & tired of this daily battle. I can’t trust myself to continue ignoring the horrible voices & my Hubby simply shouldn’t have to shadow my every move because the system think they know better.

I seem to be punishable by my Label. My label reads “Borderline Personality Disorder”. Apparently research shows that “We” the lucky owners of this label don’t react well to sustained periods in a Hospital enviroment. The researchers are probably correct but how will my family react to my death if I don’t get the help I so desperately need. It is not normal to research the easiest ways to kill yourself nor is it acceptable to deem me in a position to keep myself safe.

I do not want to die, I want help. It’s my little boys prom tonight I should be on top of the world, the only tears trickling down my face should be from pride from the sight of his beautiful wee face on a monumental night in his life – the tears shouldn’t be tinged with thoughts of will I even see it. I will be there, I have too.

I am a Mother of 2 & a Wife, a wife to a supportive husband who moonlights as a Mental Health Nurse, the hospital he currently works at is our home, his rate of pay is fear of loss. I adore him, I hate that he needs to do this but only he listens.

For now I am here & I’m praying things get better fast, I’m sorry if this hits hard but I think this will help highlight what many will go through.

♡

Tic-Toc

____

Tic-Tock….

So I’ve been home for 3 days now after a week of hospitalisation was deemed reasonable enough down time for an overly Suicidal ME. 3 days back into the real world & I’m struggling, struggling bad I’m trying my best to try & please everyone whilst failing miserably. I seem to find the littlest things so enormously stressful. I feel like all I ever do is washings , housework, school runs, football etc the list goes on I know that’s what being a mum is all about but Mentally & Physically I struggle with it, physically im exhausted, toxic thoughts & a craving for self hate weighs me down.

I’m feeling like a run-away winner for the Worst Mother & Wife of the year award. I am a failure. I constantly ask myself why can’t I be like all those other women who can keep there shite together & are able to run a house the way it should be run instead of relying on my Hubby to do the things I should be doing but in a Mans fashion, I sit here thrashing the keypad my fingers fueled with anger & rage as I look at the massive piles of washing I have to put away. Anyone else wish clothes were f*cking disposable? Honestly one wear & bin would suit me to a tee, How easy would life be?

On a side note does anyone elses kids fight constantly? Like 56 seconds of every minute seem to be spent listening to bickering & bitch fights interupting my mindfulness. I can’t even find energy to shout at them because it doesn’t change a thing. F*ck me how did life come to this? I have those constant venomous voices in my head telling me just to end it, put me out my misery it would be a lot easier than trying to continue living life. The blood is rushing through my body, my heart is racing feels like it’s about to burst through my chest, my jaws are clenched & my teeth are gritted I’m tired but can’t sleep. I am a time bomb waiting to explode. I cant explode & I won’t but hopefully my mindset changes. Todays another conflict in my own head. I’m better & safer out of hospital apparently, I hope they are right.

♡