Thanks for the advice!

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About 6 years ago I was given the worst advice I’ve ever had from my ever poisonous father. He told me

There is no fairy tale. There is no happy ending. You will eventually just settle for good enough.

I remember when he said it to me. I was trying to leave a relationship I was desperately unhappy in, and it had taken me years to grow the balls to actually take action. For a long time I had treated this person terribly in the hope that he would make the decision for me and do the hard part so I didn’t have to. Then these pearls of wisdom came crashing in from the person I needed to steer me.

I was devastated by the notion that I had no hope of ever being happy. It was like the final nail in the coffin.

Thankfully, shortly after this amazing bit of parenting, I decided that father dearest was an influence in my life that I didn’t need. I cut him off (and in the process also cut off his faithful follower, my sister) and moved away. I met up with a guy I had liked for years.

2 years ago today I married that boy.

So today’s thought are these –
not all advice is good
blood is not thicker than water

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Everyone’s business

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I’m in a rage today

And it’s not even 10am. I am absolutely positive that others have experienced this, but I just need to vent.

Why WHY is everyone so interested in what time I have woken up?!

I’ve lost count of the amount of snide comments from acquaintances, neighbours, even bloody courier drivers:-

having a lazy morning are we?

have you just got up?! Wakey wakey

I thought you would still be in bed, it’s before 10am isn’t it?!

I was just feeling good about the fact that I had got up, showered and fed at what is deemed a “reasonable time”.

Thanks for pissing on my parade.

If only these people showed half as much interest in the reasons why I struggle to get up in the morning, maybe they wouldn’t be so fucking ignorant.

Over and out.

A different perspective

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It’s been a funny old day. I started the day fairly well, got up early which automatically means I have a bit of energy, made pancakes for the wee fella and my mum came round. I nipped out on my own to get something and that time alone was all it took – the old familiar feeling started lurking.

Later on this afternoon while the tiny man napped, me and mum started talking about depression. We haven’t spoken about it much before, as she finds it hard to understand and I find that frustrating. But I tried to explain why the tiredness isn’t like just being tired, and the overwhelmed feeling is difficult to deal with logically, when you are far from logical. She seemed to get it.
I explained about my memory of the school bus and she was baffled, she couldn’t understand why I would feel like that at such a young age. She started to question if this was something she had caused, and then we got to my dad. She was kicking herself and apologising, saying she couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. She genuinely had no idea that he was just as nasty to us as he was to her.
We talked about memories of the way he treated us, something we never talk about, and for the first time I think she was ready to hear it. Hell, for the first time I was ready to admit it.

For the first time in a very long time I told my mum exactly how I felt and cried openly.

And I think that now I feel understood.

First time blogging

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I’ve never blogged before. I’m not even sure I fully understand the concept really, but it occurred to me yesterday that it may be cathartic in a way to write down some of my internal chatter, so here I am.
First and foremost, I am a mum. In fact, at the moment, it’s the only identity I have. I’m not sure if that fact in itself is what bothers me, or if this is a by-product of post natal depression.
Being honest, there has been a lingering depression with me for almost 20 years. I have a wonderful husband now, a beautiful son, a good relationship with my mum and in laws, but I don’t know if I’ll ever feel “balanced”.

Will there always be a cloud hanging over me?

I had a good day yesterday. Nothing ground breaking, I just felt like the day went well and I was content for a moment. Then today, that nagging feeling has somehow crept back. What the hell happened overnight?! It’s a bit like hangover doom, a constant feeling of dread. I remember being sat on the bus to primary school with this feeling. The thought of my own little boy feeling like that at such a young age is makes me feel uneasy.
At the end of the day, I suppose that is what post natal depression is all about. The pressure to make sure your child never has to feel the way you did when you were sad, scared, worried, lonely etc.