A Monster Ate My Mum – Book Review

I’ve suffered from low self esteem all my life. After a period of illness this year that low self esteem turned into depression. There have been times this year I’ve been sad, dead eyed, weeping, cold in front of my son. He’s two and doesn’t really understand. He asks “what’s wrong Mamma?” as he did this evening when I cried, and he cuddles me and kisses away my tears. It’s heartbreaking and lovely. Ultimately it’s really unfair on him.

I feel such guilt at these times, he doesn’t understand. I hope he’s too young to remember the dark days. The dark days are fewer than they used to be. I’m working on my recovery for him and for me.

I was mooching around Twitter when I came across mention of a book called A Monster Ate My Mum. It’s a new book aimed at the children of mothers who have post natal depression. To be honest, having read it I think it works for depression generally.

I loved the title. It does seem like a monster has eaten me. Snatched me away from my family. Eaten my smile, suppressed my giggles. Made me less human. I had a copy of the ebook to look at and read to my boy. I was immediately struck by the gorgeous illustrations. I fell quite in love with the illustrations by Helen Braid and when I read the book to Splodge and Hodge they loved them too.

Author, Jen Faulkner suffered from PND with her third child, she wanted to find a way of explaining her feelings to her older children, so she wrote a poem which this book is now based on. It is beautifully and heartbreakingly written.

From my perspective as a parent with mental health issues, this hits all the right notes. It explains things perfectly in an accessible way. Husband Hodge said it made him feel sad because it made him reflect on the impact of my depression on the family. But he agreed that the book is a valuable tool in explaining why Mummy is sad to her little ones.

We sat down and read it to Splodge who is just short of his 3rd birthday. He was excited by and engaged by the illustrations and wanted to look at them over and over. We read the story to him a few times. I’m not sure how much he understood, he is still very young, but he did say “Mamma sad” and pointed to the Mummy in the book. I think if this was read to him regularly then he’d understand more. So that’s what we’ll do.

It is a beautiful book about a sad subject. I’d definitely recommend this for children who have Mums like me. I feel really strongly about mental health issues. I speak and write frankly about my problems because I’m not ashamed, I have no reason to be ashamed and by speaking out it makes it less of a taboo.

Children aren’t stupid, they’re often more astute than adults, by teaching them about the reasons why Mummy is sad can only be a good thing. By not demonising mental health and depression it might make them ask for help if they need it later in life, it might make them more equipped to cope with the problems others face later on, and if it helps them understand there and then that Mummy isn’t like that because of anything they’ve done, then that can only be a good and incredibly positive thing.

I really hope this book is picked up and used as a tool for helping families in this situation. I’m quite in love with it and I know it will help us and Splodge. My recovery continues. The dark days are less frequent but they are still there, at least now I can explain that the monster ate my smile.

Read Jen Faulkner’s Blog about A Monster Ate My Mum
Buy a print copy of this beautiful book
Buy the Ebook (only 99p, a real bargain)

Face Your Fears

Tomorrow (8th October) is National Face Your Fears Day. Go figure. It got me thinking about what I fear and how I’d face it. Eek!

Since young Master Splodge arrived, like any parent my fear is that he’ll come to harm in one sinister way or another. In the early days I clearly remember fretting about everything. But by and large kids are pretty resilient things and they tend to bounce when they fall off the bed, knees are scraped and heads bumped. They’ll get every bug going, so I’ve just learned to embrace that and carry tissues and calpol with me everywhere.

It’s the really evil stuff in the world that lurks in the back of my mind. And traffic, bloody traffic. Toddlers have this uncontrollable urge to run into the path of oncoming vehicles. At least tearing it down the road after him keeps me fit.

So pre-baby, in those heady days where lie-ins were mandatory, dancing into the early hours standard and the ability to just pick up your bag and run out of the house unfettered by changing bag checks and wrestling shoes onto a reluctant child easy. What were my fears?

Snow – yes I acknowledge this is a weird one. I always fall over when it snows and the streets are slippy. I fall, I pretty much always break something and then someone has to spend the next 6 weeks helping me put a bra on. I hate opening the curtains to find the streets are thickly lined with snow, it brings on a huge amount of anxiety. To combat this I never used to leave the house, but now I’ve got a few pairs of those ice grippers which make life so much easier. I think we can consider that a fear faced.

Singing in Public – I’m no Adele, I’m not even a Cheryl Baker. I know I can’t sing so I rarely do it (sober) in company. I do however love singing, belting out songs when I’m alone in the house. In my head I’m ace. In reality, awful. Then you have a baby and every bloody baby group has an obligatory sing along. Nightmare. I went with it on the grounds that it’s what you do; I sung quietly and hoped no one would hear. Cue my son’s 2nd birthday party. Let’s have a sing song at the end I say. Guess who ends up leading it? Only Tone-Deaf Tina here (my name isn’t Tina, but it doesn’t alliterate quite as well)! Stood in a silent room with the expectant faces of children and their parents turned towards me I’m forced into centre stage. Sleeping Bunnies (natch), Dingle Dangle Scarecrow, Baa Baa Black Sheep etc. I was rubbish, but I pulled it off. Won’t be doing it again though. Ever. Fear faced!

Wifi – I’m guessing you’re reading this online or on your phone. Most of you will be using your wifi. Now imagine a world with NO WIFI. The horror. The horror! This is a fear I will probably never conquer. Being unable to check Twitter fills me with terror; lack of email access brings on a panic attack and if I can’t blog then I might as well throw in the towel and give up on life. It’s a modern curse and my biggest fear. I know you feel it too. I know it.

Thanks for reading.

Stupid

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I’ve been stupid. This is nothing new for me I admit, but this time I’ve really messed up. I’ve got issues like anyone and sometimes, just sometimes I lean on friends too hard. They’re not trained professionals. They don’t know how to cope with me, my moods, my anxieties, my weirdness. I say and do things that are sometimes just wrong or hurtful or inappropriate. I don’t mean to.

photo (20) (600x450) — *Some* of my meds

I seem to have got myself into fortnightly cycles of downers, I’m fine for 13 days and then, boom, my mood goes through the floor and I act up, act down, act weird, do stupid things, say stupid things. This is really not cool. This is really not me. This is really not how I want to be.

As I write this I’m crying. On the verge of losing another friend over this. I’ve got to take ownership and control of my moods, my life. This just cannot continue.

I need a strategy. Previously my strategy was to drink massively and to excess, it was my first thought this morning but I’ve not touched a drop. That’s progress. My second thought was self harm, I’ve not cut or burnt today. Progress. I am getting somewhere. I need a non-destructive way to deal with stuff. Until I find that I’m stuck with dark, harmful thoughts in my head but not wanting to fall back on my old ways of dealing with them.

So, to friends old and new, friends I’ve lost and are losing. I’m sorry. I won’t use my mental health as an excuse for poor behaviour. Pull me up on it, challenge me, don’t let it float by. But love me and hold me when I need to be loved and held. It’s a scary old rollercoaster in my head right now. I know I am getting better but it won’t happen overnight. Bear with me, please, and I’m sorry. I really am.

I’m a Mental Patient too Asda!

In response to Asda and their incredibly tasteless “Mental Patient” fancy dress costume there has been a massive tidal wave of supportive tweets and the hashtag #MentalPatient has started trending.

The hashtag is being used by people like me who have mental health issues. Here is my mental patient costume. Is it scary? Or is it a picture of a “normal” looking woman? Mental health wears many costumes and disguises. We’re not all deranged, unhinged maniacs on the rampage.

I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend. I am many things to many people. I’m also a mental patient. I have depression, anxiety, PTSD and an eating disorder. I self harm, I’m suicidal, I’m happy, I’m sad. I’m terrible, I’m amazing. I’m not a mad axe murderer. Please do not stigmatise me.

Mental Health: Feeling insufferably bleak

Today I’m feeling low, really low. I’m feeling insufferably bleak. I woke up yesterday wanting to die but got on with my day. So I’m doing what I usually do, I’m writing all of the dark feelings out of my head and hoping I feel better on the other side of it.

My struggles with my own mental health are pretty well documented on this blog so feel free to check the mental health category if you want my back story.

Fact is if someone really want to kill themselves telling them how special they are probably wont stop them doing something unspeakable. It may help some, but I think that’s probably a rarity.

My life has been touched my suicide. Several people I know and love have taken their lives or tried to. It’s about the most horrific kind of pain you con inflict on your loved ones. I’ve seen both sides and both are awful places to be.

I’m feeling low right now and my answer is to blog it. A huge number of blog posts I’ve written I’ve never published for fear they were too bleak. They probably were but to write down my feelings got them out of my head and that did help.

I’ve had a good four weeks, I’ve been feeling chipper. I felt my balance of meds was alright and I was exercising and getting stronger. I’d cut my drinking right down and I’d started eating reasonably regularly too. I saw my GP last week and they wanted to increase my meds. I nodded sagely and agreed but I didn’t want to increase my dose. Things were fine, I felt fine, so why mess with the balance.

Yesterday, suicidal, wanting to self harm I realised they were right. But I’m not going to, not for a few days, I want to see if I can work it out myself, dig myself out of my bleak depressive little hole.

My self confidence is so fragile that all it takes is a small knock for me to be bruised inside. I’m working hard to improve me, why can’t others see that and appreciate me. At the same time I feel so immeasurably selfish for thinking that way. Why should anyone notice or pay me a compliment. Why? I’m worth nothing to them so why is my self worth so bound up in what they think? I’ll work it out.

So if you know someone on the brink, someone depressed, do tell them what they mean to you, how irreplaceable they are and what a wonderful, beautiful human being they are. It might help, it might not, but if the worst happens then at least you know that they knew what you meant to them. It could save a life.

Mental Health: Feeling insufferably bleak

No Regrets

I don’t regret my life. The choices I’ve made, the mistakes I’ve made. The people I have known. It bothers me that I care too much, and I feel pain when they feel pain or when they cause me pain.

I don’t regret because that what’s shaped me and made me the person I am today. Flawed, fragile but surprisingly strong. I wish things were different, had panned out in a more positive way but they don’t and never would. Someone always gets hurt.

I don’t regret because whatever I did I loved at that moment and I chose it. Life should be lived in the moment and not cautiously. To live cautiously is a half life. It is a pain free life but what is life without pain, or hurt, or upset? I cannot live a numb life.

I don’t regret because that is facing the past and not the future. What is in the future no one knows but I won’t regret it. How could I? I choose to walk a path boldly and without fear of what might be there, because I can deal with it.

I don’t regret the life I’ve lived. It has given me so much. So much to be grateful for in comparison to the things that pain me. The nature of pain is that it usually diminishes in time. It is a fleeting feeling.

Guilt and regret stay with you. I carry guilt heavily but I am working to free myself from a lifetime of pointless guilt, why feel guilty over imagined crimes and slights long forgotten?

So, no regrets. Never.

Internal Dialogue

What to do? Should I listen to the destructive voice in my head? Just now I had a conversation with myself that went like this.

You’re hungry, eat.

No you’ve not eaten since yesterday and you ate a full meal.

You’re hungry, eat.

No, you’ve lost another pound since yesterday, keep it up.

But you’re really hungry, eat.

Maybe I could have a plum. No if I eat that it’ll make the hunger worse.

It’s just a plum. Eat it.

No.

But you’re going to do some exercise now, you need the energy.

No. I’ll drink some water instead.

Fair enough. You really are ill you know.

I know.

Today (suicide & self harm)

Today by the Smashing Pumpkins is one of my favourite songs (YouTube it, go on) but the song is not about the greatest day ever, it’s about suicide.

I’ve had a run of good days, still with raging insomnia, but a few good, calm-ish days. I’d been feeling ok about myself and my life. Starting to think I was maybe getting on an even keel at last. I was very wrong.

I woke up this morning crazy agitated, really twitchy and in a panic. I don’t know why. A few days ago, even though I was in my happy place I felt an uncontrollable urge to walk out in front of a car. I didn’t obviously but the thought was there.

Last night I cut myself again, I’ve not done that for a good month. It felt good, it stopped the noise in my head telling me that I’m a hateful human being. That I’m ugly and worthless. It stopped, briefly. Then I just felt bad for being weak and cutting again.

This morning I’m thinking dark thoughts, shameful thoughts. Thoughts about harming myself. I’ve got enough pills to do it, to end it, to stop the pain, to stop the noise once and for all. I wont do it. I can’t do it. But I want to. I really want to. So I will cut and bleed instead. I will scratch at my hateful skin until it’s raw.

How long can this pain last? How long till I can be happy? How long can I be like this. How long? How long.

Just Ok

I don’t need your validation.

Recently I’ve been meeting a good number of my fabulous Twitter friends who have supported me over the past few months, I’ve got on famously with them all and had some really great times. But…

When you meet someone you admire and respect. Someone worldly and intelligent they can turn your head, make you think differently and view your place in the world from another perspective. That is usually a really good thing.

You admire them greatly, this wonderful charismatic friend who shares so much in common with you but broadens your horizons and helps to underpin some of your flagging self esteem. And then you meet them and they are as great as you think they’ll be.

But they know everything about me. I’ve poured my soul out to a select group of online friends over the past few months and they know my vulnerabilities and the chinks in my armour. They know how to wound, they know how fragile I can be.

I met up with a friend, a wonderfully supportive and open friend. They said I was ok. What the hell is that? Ok? I thought they were amazing and good company and said so. I’m just ok. Well I guess that’s me. Just ok. I’ve brooded on that for a few days. Just ok.

Tonight my husband shot me a look which said that I wasn’t just ok that I was his world. That’s all the validation I need. There is a caveat. That is all the validation I need when I’m calm and happy. But otherwise I’ll probably continue to brood on being just ok.

Selfish

I love my son, he is beautiful. He is excellent company and charming and funny. He is everything I love about me and my husband rolled into one, precious, much lovelier parcel. He is my world.

He is poorly, nothing serious, he’s 2 and there’s a plague of Croup going round nursery, he’s got a nasty, barking cough but he’s fine in himself and bouncing round the place, full of beans and twice as messy.

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem. Normally I’d handle it, distract him, cuddle him, play with him but I’m selfish. I’m going through a period of anxiety and I’m bound up in myself, in my head, I can’t shake the feeling of doom and panic. The loss of control and the fear of spiralling, spiralling like I did a few weeks ago.

So as he bounced off the sofa, tipping toys everywhere, I sat cold, unfeeling, lost in my head and the dark, confidence ripping thoughts negatively running on a loop through my mind. Selfish. Selfish bloody woman.

He turned to me and saw the tears streaming down my numb face. He gazed for a moment and my heart broke as he said “What’s up Mamma?”. He climbed onto my knee and cuddled me, held me tight, my poorly baby comforting me. Selfish. Selfish bloody woman.

“What’s up Mamma?” His face full of concern.

I replied “Mamma doesn’t love herself as much as she loves you.”

There you have it, a lifetime of therapy and an endless prescription couldn’t have fathomed it out any quicker than a toddler with a cough.

I hate myself, my actions, my lack of control, my need for validation from other people. I hate the way I look, the way I sound, how I think, the things that I think. That I’m weak, that others take advantage of that. I hate that I’m like this, I hate that I’m in the grip of it. Because when I’m not I’m a great person, loving, funny, caring, wise. I wish I knew how to stop it, I wish I knew how to love myself. I wish I knew how to stop being a selfish, selfish bloody woman.