I have thought far too much.
I have wasted tears on people and things that did not deserve them.
I have concerned myself more than I ought with my perception of how other people perceive me.
I have given people the power to hurt me and allowed too much of my present to be governed by my past.
I have struggled with emotional challenges and faced demons that would see me crumble.
I have allowed the voice that tells me that I will never be good enough too much freedom.

This year, a metamorphosis began.
I learned to close the book of the past and look forward to a brighter future.
I accepted that I will never be everybody’s everything, but that I am something to a great deal of people.
I accepted that I cannot control what everyone thinks or what truth they choose to believe and that all I can do is my best to be kind and loving to those around me.
I realised that the only one who thinks I am not good enough is the lone voice inside my head, and I silenced her.

My children believe that I am the best mother in the world. My husband loves me more than any man ever has. My true friends know every shade of me from dark to light, and love me anyway.
I have decided to believe that I am good enough. And it doesn’t matter how many other people believe it, as long as I do.

2015 is a year of new beginnings for me in more ways than one. It is the year my family will be complete, and the year that I will allow myself to feel truly complete. No longer half a person living half a life, missing perfect moments whilst over-analysing the past. These past few months have shown me a glimpse of the joy that can be felt through living this precious life in the present. Thank you to all of those who have helped me get there.

In case you hadn’t noticed, I have turned a massive corner from when I started on this blogging journey. My transformation from blooming miserable to blooming marvellous happened much more quickly than I ever imagined. I’ve started buying pretty pink things, planning the nursery and generally feeling excited about the arrival of our little girl ☺️.

That said, I still can’t shake the feeling that I dare not dream. With every little item I buy, the moment of joy is quickly dampened by that voice. “Well that’s tempting fate isn’t it?”, “What are you going to do with that when you don’t have a baby to bring home?” I guess those feelings are natural. I expect most, if not all, expectant mothers share that anxiety. A few weeks ago the voice would have shouted loud enough to make sure I listened. She’d have repeated the words over and over until I put the thing back on the shelf. Christ, weeks ago that voice wouldn’t even allow me to enter a baby shop without overwhelming me with a sickness that left me dizzy. Today I hear her, but I tell her to bugger off! Yes, I know there are no guarantees that everything will be ok. I know that the risks associated with a low lying placenta and Group B Strep mean that I face potential complications. But is the health of my baby seriously going to be impacted by a pink bunny? Is my labour more likely to end in tears because of that cute floral dress? No. Que será será. What will be will be.

You see, I don’t think it matters that the voice is always there. I have to get used to that. What matters is how loud I let that voice be. She used to scream at me, over and over, until my ears rang. Now it’s just a whisper; just loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to disregard. I accept she will always have something to say – she is opinionated to say the least. But I am no longer giving her comments undeserved credence.

She can challenge me if she wishes, but she’d better be ready for a fight!

Well, today was a funny kind of day! Waved my mum off after a weekend visit and I headed off down South for a work meeting.  Arrived at my destination, and I had not been sat in the car 5 minutes when I received one of the rudest messages I have ever received via FB messenger, from someone I do not know and am not FB friends with!  After the 4th abusive message that made absolutely no sense to me at all, given that the actual issue is nothing to do with me, I was in tears (hormones, I know!!)  I’m not sure whether it was the injustice of said messages, the inflammatory language used, the threats against my family, or the completely shocking spelling and grammar that appalled me the most.  I think if I’m honest I’d have to say that the latter had the most impact on my wellbeing 😉

I am more than big enough to deal with abuse a) where it is deserved, and b) when the argument is articulated in an intelligent manner.  If you choose to abuse me and fail to follow these two simple rules, I am afraid you have lost.

One positive I took from the experience (which I must say is, in my 39 years, the first time I have ever had to deal with anything like this) is that for a few weeks now I have thought I was going nuts.  After today, I was shown what nuts actually looks like!  Psychotic harasser (I don’t think that is a word, but it’ll do for now) has been reported and blocked, and the Police Incident Number will help should the individual feel the need to bless me with more of their inane drivel.  I hope whoever the lady is (term used as loosely as you can imagine) sleeps well tonight, and seeks some help with those anger issues in the morning.

Sorry to use my blog as a rant today, but I felt the need to get this off my chest and see the funny side of this awful situation.  Another positive?  2 weeks ago this would have ruined my day – today, stronger and happier, this was a momentary glitch that I can now put behind me.  It’ll take more than that to knock this girl off track 🙂

When I started this blog, it was my intention to end each day by sharing my thoughts and feelings of the day. I assumed, given the personal mental state I was in when I started, that my daily posts would generally be on the miserable side, but at least it would be out of my head and it may help others to realise they are not alone.

If I am to remain true to myself, I have to write down my feelings no matter what they are. Today I was a bit nervous about blogging, because I am afraid today’s post might come across a bit smug. I hope you will trust me that it is not my intention.

Today, for no real reason, I feel incredibly lucky and blessed. It’s been a normal kind of day – family trip to stock up on much needed storage to help in the household de-clutter. Lost the kids on numerous occasions, rowed with the husband about whose responsibility it was to handle the tape measure and nearly lost the will to live in the queue to pay for said storage along with all manner of things you never know you want or need until you are in the world of Ikea! As I write, I wonder if the thing that made today feel so special is the fact that it was a normal kind of day.  I’m not sure anything has felt normal for a while.

While I sit here typing, I look around my cosy living room having just sent the kids off to bed after a cheeky late night up watching XFactor and realise that really I am an incredibly lucky lady.  Don’t get the wrong idea about me.  Yes, I have a nice home and a good job (not exciting, but good), and a fantastic and loving little family, but I can’t say I have achieved anything particularly noteworthy yet in my life.  There are people in this world that are doing a much better job at this thing called life than I am. But maybe it is the feeling that I really am lucky to have what I do have (love, family, not the material crap) that has made me so anxious about recent developments.  I mean, something has got to go wrong soon hasn’t it?  When I look at my 2 beautiful, witty and kind children, I can’t help but think that my luck must be running out. I guess all expectant mums feel a bit like that don’t they? I realise, however, that I cannot change that, and whilst the lack of control over my destiny has contributed to much angst in recent weeks, today I am celebrating what I do have. It’s a hell of a feeling.

I have woken up smiling for 2 days now. That might not sound like a big deal, but it seems such a long time since that happened, and I can recognise myself in the mirror again. For weeks I’ve not quite known who that person staring back at me was, or what she was thinking. She always stared back so expressionless that I couldn’t read her. This morning it was my reflection I saw. I looked long and hard for her but she was nowhere to be seen. I’ve known her far too long to kid myself that she isn’t lurking back there somewhere, but for now she is gone, and with her went the emptiness.

And do you know what is amazing? The day she left was the day my baby properly said hello. Last night it felt like there was a party going on in there! It was like she left, and my baby was free to make ‘himself’ known. Boy, was I pleased to feel him.

I still have a long way to go. I’ve been on this journey for many years, and no matter how many times I find myself, she is always there hiding in the shadows. And I am not going to kid myself or any of you that I am suddenly blooming in this pregnancy. It is still like an alien invasion, and I still feel like I have lost all control over my future path. No matter how much I will myself to feel some level of excitement for our future arrival, I still feel nothing. I still feel physically sick when I step inside Mothercare, panic attacks brewing at the mere sight of a babygro.

But perhaps today I feel a little less nothing than I did yesterday…

Sometimes I wonder if life is that hard, or whether life really is just what you make it.  I am beginning to think that I am creating my own miserable destiny by over-thinking and setting such ridiculously high expectations upon every moment.  The counsellor said as much last week; she said that I am spending so much effort being anxious, sad, disappointed, that I am missing out on a perfectly good life.  I’m literally worrying my life away.  While I am analysing every second, my life is actually slipping away from me.  It’s madness really, isn’t it!

Somewhere along the line I learned to gain satisfaction from drama and misery.  It’s like I wasn’t really living unless there was some sadness to remind me of how painful life can be.  Automatic negative thoughts. Where did they come from? When did I learn to expect the worst in every situation? Did I learn it, or is it simply my nature? And more importantly, how do I unlearn it? Perhaps I never will (yeah, yeah, I know, automatic negative thoughts…)

The irony of it is that I am sat here blogging about over-thinking, whilst over-thinking! I am trying to teach myself to go with the flow.  Stop trying to work everything out! Because maybe there isn’t always a reason for why things happen – maybe sometimes things just…happen.  I need to stop looking for reasons, because whether there is a reason I am in this situation or not, I am in it, and no amount of reasoning is going to change that.

“Sometimes we need to stop analysing the past, stop planning the future, stop trying to figure out precisely how we feel, stop deciding with our mind what we want our heart to feel, and sometimes we just have to go with ‘whatever happens, happens’…”

I can’t tell you how much I wish I could do that! I wish I knew how to just live in the moment, to enjoy what is right here, right now.  It must be a much happier life to live.  It’s no surprise I’m exhausted all the time. Mind works on overtime constantly working out what will happen, how I’ll feel, what others might think…Perhaps that is a good reason why I should pursue the CBT.

I need to have a good strong word with myself! Spent all weekend on the sofa resembling Waynetta Slob, and I tell you now, that is no good for the soul! Time to make some changes, if only I could find the energy and the inclination 😦

Feeling very confused today.  I can’t stop thinking about the meeting with the counsellor earlier this week.  I was so convinced that there was chemically something wrong with me, that I was actually losing my mind.  But today I’m wondering if really this is just another case of me setting ridiculously high expectations on myself that the reason I came crashing down is because I could never meet them.  Perhaps they are one and the same thing.  I think about times when I have suffered in the past, when my GP explained that I have what they call ‘automatic negative thoughts’.  I’ve done that to myself all my life I think – always thought the worst will happen, that I’ll never be good enough.  So maybe, like the counsellor said, that is exactly what I am doing now?

Maybe I am not depressed about having a baby, per se, but perhaps my familiar old ‘friend’ that likes to tell me I can’t do it, that I can’t be happy, is sticking her oar in again?  The pressure of my new job along with the unexpected pregnancy came just at the right moment for her to reappear?  I don’t know.  All I know is that I haven’t taken the pills for 2 days, and I have not returned the call to the counsellor to set up my next CBT appointment.   Something is telling me I can do this on my own.

I wonder what came first – the depression or the tiredness?  Am I tired because I am mentally worn down?  Is that why I spend most of my free time lying in a ball on the sofa, and there is no energy left to find any enjoyment in normal things? Is the depression using so much of my mental resources that I just don’t have the energy for day to day life? I am so tired.

Or am I feeling depressed because I am so tired that all I want to do is lie in a ball on the sofa and I’ve got no energy left to find any enjoyment in normal things? Maybe I can’t function mentally because I am just so damned tired?

God knows. What I do know is that I need to figure out which came first for me to really know how to help myself. For the depression I will need help. But maybe I just need to sleep…?

Mental illness is such a taboo subject, it is no wonder that so many suffer in silence.  Too many people misunderstand depression, thinking it is just about feeling a bit down and you can snap yourself out of it.  Or worse, people ask what you have to be depressed about when you have a good life, good job, good anything.  Didn’t the recent loss of Robin Williams teach people anything?

Depression is not a choice.  In my case it is a chemically triggered imbalance.  It’s like I tried so hard to juggle so many balls of glass that the fear of dropping one resulted in a short circuit of kinds.  And that was that; my brain said “enough is enough” and is now closed for normal service.

This week, however, I learned a valuable lesson.  I decided to be open and honest about my feelings, to take a chance on people who I felt might be good enough people to just get it.  With a massive project to deliver at work (in record time now that I have an unexpected bundle of, erm, joy to contend with) it was like I was standing at the foot of Everest with a broken leg.  I talked to one of my work colleagues about the panic I was feeling and the fear that I wouldn’t be able deliver; that I’d end up being one great big disappointment.  I explained that everytime I tried to concentrate on what I had to do I was plagued by anxiety that stepped in my path. Sounds of the workplace that I’ve been familiar with for 15 years were driving me crazy. Even in the refuge of a meeting room the air conditioning system mocked me from above. The music I put on to drown out the mocking just annoyed me and I wanted to scream! I told her I’ve been referred for cognitive behavioural therapy and I am taking anti-depressants.  She asked me what plans I had for tomorrow (which was today) and I said I had a free day but was going to be busy trying to work through my plan of attack. Within minutes she had sent me an invitation for the whole day to help me get back on track. She said “you CAN do this, and I’m going to help you” and today she did just that. I achieved more today than I have in a while, and I am so grateful to her for her understanding, help and support. And I’m glad I took the risk – because it turns out I had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I don’t underestimate how hard it can be to talk about your deepest, darkest thoughts. Christ, sometimes I play back the thoughts I’ve had in a day and wonder how I managed to escape being committed. I”ll share some of those thoughts with you over the coming weeks – I am not afraid of being judged anymore. I am a bit of a talker (I expect you’ve worked that out already), so I do benefit from talking things through with someone. When I suffered with post-natal depression a number of years ago, I couldn’t speak to anyone. That illness stole 3 years from my life, and 3 years of love from my daughter. I will not let this illness take any more of me.

I have my first CBT session tomorrow morning – wish me luck! Will tell you all about it tomorrow.

So, today was a strange day.  First Monday morning in a long time that I didn’t hit the snooze button.  First morning in fact.  I slept through my husband’s 5:45am alarm for the first time in weeks, and when my alarm went off I accepted my fate and got straight up and showered.  It can’t be the medication yet – it’s a low dose of Citalopram and it is only Day 5.  Perhaps my acceptance of the issue, coupled with the thought that there may now be light at the end of what seemed like a never-ending tunnel just a week ago, has in itself kickstarted my recovery?  At any rate, it felt good to want to get up.

One thing I have noticed is that today is also the first day that has gone by without any tears.  In some way though, I had begun to find comfort in my tears.  It felt good to feel something.  If there’s one thing I have noticed about today, it is that I feel nothing.  No fear, no dread, no sadness, no anxiety, no loneliness, no despair; nothing.  That makes me nervous, because it is unlike me not to feel.  It’s like a kind of numbness enveloping me, body and soul.  My facial muscles don’t appear to want to work themselves into any kind of expression.  I am an empty shell.  I find it hard to believe that the medication could be responsible, but it does seem like a strange development from where I’ve been.  Only yesterday, a notification e-mail from Mothercare reminding me of how many days into this pregnancy I am was enough to induce a fit of sobs…

I have a hunch I felt the baby move this evening. But it may as well have been wind for all the emotion it evoked. I hope some day soon this will start to feel real.