I’m a Pout Pout Fish

‘I’m a Pout Pout fish, with a pout-pout face

and I spread the dreary wearies all over the place…

Blub, Bluuub, Bluuuuuuuubbbb!’

Possum is 6 years

Bandicoot is 3 years and 10 months

Little Princess is 1 year and 2 months (16 months)

I love this book.  I thought it looked cute when I saw it in the Aquarium bookshop, but it took me a few visits before I handed over the money for it.  (DH seems to think I have a bit of a book problem.  I don’t know… just because I would love to have a library in our home with wall to ceiling compacter shelves for storing my favourites…)

Anyway, eventually I did.  And I am glad I did.  It is really a wonderful book for me just now.

In this story, the poor Pout-Pout fish is a bit of a misery-guts.  All his friends offer the kind of trite advice that people give you when you are depressed, but just makes you feel worse.  Until…

Along comes a special fish that gives him a kiss and no advice.

And he feels so much better.

It is all done with beautiful pictures and with gorgeous rhymes and in such a warm manner.  I love it.  And the boys love it when I do my special Pout-Pout Fish voice when I am reading it, too.

It is nice to remind myself when I am having a really bad day (too many of those just now!) that I am not really a Pout Pout Fish, I am a Kiss-Kiss Fish in need of a bit of gentleness.

Thanks, Mr Fish!

Acceptance

 

I have been working on acceptance this last three days.  Acceptance of me.  I am trying to avoid judging myself, because I hadn’t realised how much I did that.

I also had not realised how much I was effected by anxiety.  I am starting to recognise it’s symptoms in me everywhere.  It is amazing!  So many situations have come up already, especially with the kids, where I had thought that I was a failure or a bad person for the kind of reactions that I had, but now I am noticing that just prior to that reaction I am overloaded with anxiety symptoms.

It has been a real eye-opener.  Instead of judging myself as bad, I am gentle with myself and acknowledge GAD.  This is not to say that I am allowed to do whatever happens, it just means that I can see what is causing it.  I can say to myself, “Ah, there is that anxiety again.  It isn’t me; it isn’t the kids; it is anxiety.  I’m going to learn how to deal with that.”  And that in itself can help limit the snowballing.

Not that it always works.  Sometimes things can be a little tough.

For example:  we are hosting my Mother’s 85th birthday party here next Saturday.  I am dreading it.  I really wanted it to happen for my Mum, and this seemed the only way to do it, but the pressure is killing me.  The apparent expectation of failure that is coming from some of my siblings is not helping any.

Today I received some emails that had been copied to the whole family, that were really insulting to me and my abilities to organise the event.  They may not have been meant like that, but they hurt like crazy.  I cried and cried.  And then I replied.  Vitriolicly.  I was hurt and I was raging.

I have probably succeeded in alienating a whole bunch of people.  NOT what I hoped to achieve.  Not the way I would normally behave.

Unfortunately, when you are against the wall already, or already down, pushing buttons, even a little bit, really, really hurts.

Now I need to learn to accept this.  Learn to be a little more gracious with myself.  Heal a bit,  rather than make it worse.  Then I will need to clear the air.

Hard work, mental illness.

Piercing the Fog

Isn’t it strange how sometimes it is easier to believe something if someone else tells you?  Even if it is something that you already know?  And sometimes you even need to be told by a professional?

I have been really struggling with the demands of being a Mum to my three Little’s.  It is a struggle keeping up with three little beings and all their needs, let alone the nice to haves.  I am sure you either know that or can understand.  On top of this I battle with depression and generalised anxiety disorder.  The last couple of years has been especially difficult.

There is so much that I want to do for my family, so many ideas that I would like to implement.  Some of these are basic – like getting on top of the household day to day, while others are bigger dreams.  I beat myself up for being too exhausted to do so, for struggling to serve good meals every day, for being unable to fit in all the basics, for being cranky, for not being sparky.  I think it is fair to say that I am not the mother that I would like to be;  not the mother that I would like my children to have.

I am just so jolly tired.  Not just physically tired from bad sleeping habits and from not having had a good night’s sleep in pretty much 4 1/2 years, but emotionally worn down, mentally burnt out.  But surely that is just making excuses?

Today I finally got in to a psychologist appointment – it is amazing how difficult that can be!  It is tough getting the time away from the kids.  I spent an hour and three quarters there today in an introductory session.  I am not in the best state I have ever been in (hence the appointment!), so not surprisingly, I have a bit of work to do.  However I have walked out of this appointment with two very useful pieces of information:

1/   I am a lot more resilient than I realised – some of the times I have thought I was at my weakest, I have actually proved this.  Also, my worst dealings with depression have occurred when I had a number of triggers and situations occurring at the same time that were beyond my control.

And

2/   I am emotionally zapped.   I can’t do all this stuff I want to do because – wait for it – I am too tired!

I talked to My Friend Sam-O.  As she so succinctly put it, “Well, yeah”.

Really, I knew it already, but I felt I was making excuses.  Sure, my friends had told me, but they are supposed to be supportive.  So now I can finally believe it.  Suddenly I am freed from that guilt, the insidious  disempowerment of depression.  Free to look after myself and follow the directions of those professionals on whose care I am currently dependant.  Free to believe what I already know.