Mum life

Confessions of a chronically ill mum #16

June 11, 2022 — Leave a comment

So much can change in a week. Such as estrogen dissolving as fast as an effervescent pill. Or progesterone over egging the pudding and ballsing up those chemical reactions, more catastrophically than Walter White on his first cook. I’m speaking in metaphors because I’m bored of saying the same thing about how I feel being attributed to hormones. My boredom doesn’t make it any less true though.

This week I’ve felt my patience being stretched and my rage reaction time quickening. My body has shown signs of a flare up in similarly dramatic fashion.

Aside from that though, there have been good things happening too, and as is the new and improved version of myself; I want to concentrate on those. Not because I’m feeling overly positive, but because I am trying to extract the positive from days when there feels like there hasn’t been any.

On Saturday I wrote a caption on Instagram that saw me confessing to finding parenting both of my children, whilst alone and with physical limitations, really fucking hard.

The reason for the post wasn’t even so much about the kids, but more in relation to how I feel about myself and my disabilities. I know they are there, I know how much they impact me, and you all know, because I write about it. However, in my everyday life I find myself playing down how bad things get sometimes, because I’m worried about what other people might think. Or even sometimes because I do go as far as gaslighting myself and telling myself that I’m the problem, rather than the fact that my being unwell, is the problem. I compare myself to other mothers, as many of us do, but I compare myself to healthier more able mothers, and that is not a fair comparison. Being kinder to myself and remembering that I have limitations is an important part of healing. Even if that healing must occur every luteal phase, every flare up in chronic pain, with every migraine attack, I must remember it’s not my fault.

After I posted the above to Insta I packed up a picnic for Ciara and I, leaving the boys at home and we went out to meet up with our friends. A girly afternoon in the woods was exactly what was needed to distract myself from overthinking, to calm down and get some reprieve from the noise and the chaos of being home alone with both children earlier that morning. It did wonders for my mood in lots of ways and was great bonding time for Ciara & I. We made a den in the woods and ate chocolate cakes and cold pizza slices from tinfoil. Ciara climbed trees and used her imagination whilst I got to sit and have a moan to a friend. It was therapy, and simultaneously a reminder that these are things I need when I’m not feeling great. When I’m overwhelmed and unable to fight through the mental and emotional fog of everyday life. I need to take a break, get outside, force myself out the door and just enjoy being away from my phone pinging a comparison inducing notification every 75 seconds.

That little outing also reminded me, it’s ok to not love every second of motherhood. Reiterating to me that my not loving every second of motherhood, has no bearing on my love of being a mother. Which is an insurmountable amount of love. I just needed the quiet time to be able to reflect on that.

Outdoorsy but make it chill
Unless you’re six, then make it fun.

This coming week I have a lot going on in general ‘life stuff’ terms, and I need to remind myself of the things that soothe me when my mental health, hormones, or physical ailments are drip feeding their steady dose of hell into my body.

Do you have a go to self soothe aid? During therapy last year, one of the first things the psychologist advised me to do was to create a self soothe kit. I plan to write about this in more detail in a new blog, but until then, do share your personal self soothe favourites – but keep it clean! 😜

Confessions of a chronically ill mum #11

April 12, 2022 — Leave a comment

I started out really unhappy writing this one. I’ll forewarn now that it includes some glumness! (Maybe a lot) As ever though, I keep it honest.

The beginning off the week was tough going because I was exhausted from Ciara’s party and already feeling a little run down. Then Wednesday night about midnight I started, (pretty much out of nowhere) vomiting. It was awful, and it went on for 3 days. When the vomiting finally subsided it started coming out of the other end. Vile. And I cried, a lot. It was my birthday Saturday and I spent it in bed, crying. Monday we were due to go on holiday with the kids to Dorset and Shaun began vomiting for over 24 hours, so we weren’t able to make the trip as planned.

Life: It’s just life. And it is! It’s one of those things that can’t be helped or avoided or unpacked, because it just happens, people get sick. But when you get sick on top of your everyday sick, I’m not gonna lie it kicks you a little harder in the kidneys. Vomiting always makes me feel quite heightened anxiety because it’s a involuntary action. I have no control over it, and no power to stop it. I’ll be honest it’s taken a lot from me this week. I’ve felt pissed off at a ruined birthday and genuine frustration at how long my body takes to recover from ‘everyday illness’ whilst managing its’ several chronic illnesses. Taking a bath at my mum’s yesterday to avoid sharing the only bathroom we have at home with Shaun, I felt sick and faint.

Kaiser gave me zero grace in my recovery. He woke up at midnight for 1.5 hours and then again 2-4am both nights whilst Shaun was ill. Again, just life stuff. I keep repeating the ‘it’s just life’ sentence, not because I’m minimising my experience. I’m not. It’s been awful. But because, I have spent many years battling out of the ordinary things. Things like having a baby and spending nine months in therapy because you believed with every ounce of your being that you were crazy, incapable, and unsafe. Things like getting pregnant and suddenly being unable to walk, driving around in a mobility scooter and eating your way to gestational diabetes. Things like never being able to show up because your illnesses’ block you at every turn. Those things are not just life, they’re my life, sure, but they’re not everybodies. Sickness bugs though – they are a free for all and one of the things I learned during my time in therapy, is that I have to give a certain level of acceptance to this everyday stuff and not let it consume me. 

I confess that I have always been a person that reacts negatively to stress. Where some people might shrug off the everyday stuff, I take it and wrap it around me in layers. I’ll also go as far as confessing to having used it as excuses over the years. Yet, I’ve also felt the weight of it. Learning to accept certain scenarios doesn’t mean I’m ok with them. Nor does it mean I don’t have to work hard to live through them, it just means, simply - that I have to prioritise peace.

Moving on from all the sickness, and bugs and life as a disabled mum, for a second…. If you’ve been following me on socials you’ll know that I’m fundraising for IAPMD by way of a raffle. It was my intention to make a fuss about this via my birthday weekend and really try and get some momentum going. Unfortunately, you know what, put paid to that! However I have managed to raise significant funds in the last few days and we’re now on a grand total of £308 smashing my self set target of £250 out of the park. I’m thrilled. And forever grateful to all the strangers on the internet that want to support a cause close to me. Of course my friends and family too, but strangers on the internet are definitely more frivolous with their cheering, that’s for sure! (Just stating an observation, don’t @ me!)

Today, we made it to Dorset. I am still expecting one of the kids to start vomming any second but I shan’t dwell! We drove down this afternoon, made it to the beach for a chippy tea and then holed up in the caravan and listened to the rain pelt it’s tin roof. I didn’t realise how much I needed this break until I arrived here and my shoulders dropped. Tension leaving my body, anxieties being swept up with the spume of the sea, literally. I don’t even apologise for my over the top description of just how sacred this trip is. I needed it, the kids needed it, Shaun, though still feeling fragile, needed it. I hope the bastard that is norovirus and his mate covid manage to stay the fuck away from us for the rest of the week and beyond.

Confessions of a chronically ill mum #10

March 31, 2022 — Leave a comment

Can’t believe it’s been ten weeks since I started these musings. It’s amazing for me to look back and see the peaks and troughs, highs and lows. I’m very aware that I started writing #ConfessionsOfAChronicallyIllMum quite soon into starting intense Dialectal Behavioural Therapy

For me, I can really see how therapy has helped me come to terms with a lot, and also manage life with chronic pain, physical illness, flare ups of all conditions, as well as PMDD. I would be lying if I said that my hormones are no longer upturning my life every few weeks, because the shift into luteal is still very prominent, despite being on birth control that claims to reduce the frequency/stop ovulation, I am definitely still ovulating. The good news though, is that knowledge and coping skills really are power when dealing with any kind of life trauma, even if that trauma occurs repeatedly.

But and it’s a big but…. No matter how many tools are in your arsenal for the bad days, no matter if you have lots of support or none, there will be days that completely derail you. I know, because I’ve had several myself this week. A visit to the hospital to talk through the treatment options and risk factors for my cardio vascular health, the penultimate therapy session for said DBT group, meaning discharge from the perinatal service is imminent, and being a few days post ovulation, these factors sent me into a spiral. I was wracked with anxiety, up all night, ruminating, latching onto intrusive thoughts, and getting angry and paranoid. I know one hundred percent that I am due on. I know this is premenstrual, and on its own it’s bad enough. Having these additional life factors occur during the luteal phase has highlighted to me, that my coping skills are not absolute.

Kaiser is still teething, he’s been teething since the day he was born, I swear! And he still never sleeps at night. I thought Ciara was a needy baby, and she was, in lots of ways, but this kid is next level. He’s also (dunno if I’m allowed to say this) a typical boy! He’s into absolutely everything. Spending all day oscillating around the furniture, then throws himself off of it 4 or 5 times for good measure. You cannot take your eyes off him for a second and it’s hard. I’m exhausted. I’m also always keyed up and on edge trying to keep him safe.

Despite knowing these things are par for the course of being a woman with a Premenstrual disorder and many chronic health problems, and despite knowing this with Kaiser is all part of #mumlife it’s still not remotely easy! Because for me, it’s not just #mumlife it’s #Sickmumlife. Every hour of every day is spent chasing this kid around and I don’t have the energy for it. I also suffer dearly for the privilege of being parent to two beautiful kids. I have to pay for my time with them, in energy depletion and excruciating pain. I am robbed of time with them because of PMDD and the crippling anxiety it brings with it. I lose weekends with them to migraine and fatigue, and I struggle to provide for them because I can’t turn up often enough to do my job! Also… getting any government help for people who need it is like pulling fucking teeth.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying for a second that I have it worse than most, I know that’s not true. I’d also never say that I am unlucky, because that’s also not true. I just want to sometimes be able to say it’s hard and for someone not to try and offer me green tea suppositories, or a commentary on why their life is harder.

I’d like for people to stop dropping in those two little words at least. Eg: At least one of them’s at school. At least you’re not really disabled. I am! For fuck’s sake, I am!!

Having to prove or feeling like I have to prove the status of my health & illnesses is draining. When at the hospital Thursday, as I hobbled in to the consulting room the nurse asked me what I’d done to myself?! I was so fed up by her question that I literally just said ‘I’m disabled’ because it wasn’t enough that I was wearing a sunflower lanyard stating that I have hidden disabilities, whilst walking like John Wayne after four days of bareback. She still felt it appropriate to ask the question. It made me uncomfortable and I didn’t feel up to offering an explanation. This proved to me that we’re still a long, long way off from wholly accepting that if you don’t look a type of way, you must not feel as you profess to either.

Confession this week is this: Despite doing a lot of work on myself and learning to let go of lots that isn’t within the realms of my control, I still sometimes feel bitter. Radical acceptance has helped me a lot, but there are days, like those mentioned above that I’m still so angry at how my health seeps into every single aspect of my life. I confess that I am terrified about returning to work because I don’t know if I am going to be reliable enough to hold down a job, even a part time one. I confess that even though I’m getting better at understanding my limitations I am still sometimes furious about them.

Ciara had a birthday party yesterday and it took every ounce of energy I possessed to turn up. To greet the other children and their parents and act like I wanted to be there. She had the best day, and I felt a lot of guilt around how I felt towards the party. But, it worked out in the end and we made it! Sometimes it’s having no choice that actually pulls you from the darkness. Sometimes, choice or not, that isn’t attainable. I’m glad I made it happen yesterday.

Confessions of a chronically ill mum #9

March 27, 2022 — Leave a comment

Still horizontal. My pelvis has not improved. I still can’t drive and I still can’t get up and move around freely. What I have noticed though is how different my mindset has been this time being so disabled. I feel less…. Devastated. As if by some miracle I’m accepting the things that aren’t within my control and I’m just cracking on, regardless. I mean, let’s not pretend I’m not frustrated or upset at what I’m missing, the stress it causes and the worry being immobile brings, because of course, I am. But I’m not obsessing, ruminating, catastrophising or all of that other shit I’m so prone to doing when I can’t live the way I’d like. Maybe it’s therapy that has taught me to be more accepting, or maybe it’s the state of the world and my gratitude at having the life I do, even whilst it’s hard. Maybe it’s the spring weather. Maybe it’s because I’ve been bleeding for weeks and when I’m bleeding I’m at my best mentally. Maybe it’s just because luteal hasn’t punched me in the brain yet! Who knows, who cares, I’ll take this more ‘normal’ reaction to the situation and just be thankful for it.

What else is going on?

BIG NEWS. I’m fundraising for iapmd in April. The International Association for Premenstrual Disorders. I’ll be running a raffle and an auction and you can find details of both by visiting my Instagram page and tapping on PMDD raffle highlights. I’ve been blown away by the generosity from people donating prizes, especially in the current climate. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 

But I’ll confess, I’ve also felt a bit disheartened that the buzz on my social media pages has dropped significantly since I started posting about the charity. I do understand that awareness posts will not land or resonate with everyone but it can be a bit of a kick in the guts when your friends don’t get on board to back you. The thing with socials is they are unfortunately slave to the algorithm and if people aren’t liking your posts, people aren’t seeing them, either. So remember even if you’re unable to donate, buy tickets or relate to the cause, a simple like or a share can make just as much difference and may reach people that are able to help. I also need to confess that whilst I’m coping better being so immobile I haven’t coped well with the atrocity that is our GP system. In fact I’ve coped so badly with it I lost my shit both with a receptionist and a pharmacist recently. And whilst I do believe both of them were antagonistic I still feel like my rage is sometimes something I have less control over. Firstly the physio I was referred to last October called me to say he’d never sent my referral to the hospital… he was apologetic and I thanked him for taking accountability, but I’ve been left without any physiotherapy for six months so some might argue it’s no wonder my mobility is worsening again. Anyway, then I requested medication and was told I’d have to wait 3 weeks to speak to a doctor to okay the meds. 3 weeks. They are psychiatric meds and I could of been on top of Clifton suspension bridge long before I got them. I’m not suicidal, but if I was in crisis this notion that we must just grin and bear it is, in my opinion not acceptable. The mental health crisis has long been a pandemic and with GP’s refusing to see people face to face the consequences are real for many. I feel both situations could have saved me a lot of stress and pain had I just been able to talk to a doctor there and then.

Because of my limited mobility, I have been finding staying on track with the healthy eating harder, but I’m determined in whatever way I can to continue this journey of better nutrition. Though there have been days I’ve succumbed to a few treats, overall I’m still managing to reduce my portion intake and include more fruit and veg.

It’s Ciara’s birthday party next weekend and I’m really hoping I’m able to move better for that. However I know whatever happens she will have the best day. With the help of our families and support of all of her friends we’ll make sure it’s a good one. She’s such a beautiful, kind and sensitive soul, my daughter! She asked for a party this year INSTEAD of presents. What kind of amazing little kid offers to forfeit presents to spend the day with her friends. I mean it’s a good job she did because the party has cost an absolute fortune but we’ve still got her some gifts to open on the big day! She also lost another tooth, her third one, whilst her brother is just cutting his third. Speaking of Kaiser he now knows and responds to his name, nose, and Raa Raa (the noisy little lion) or Thomas (The tank engine) He still never sleeps though.

I guess for now that’s about all that’s new. I’m busy trying to manage my health before I’m due to go back to work in May, and I’m also soon to be discharged from the perinatal service so I just need to get my head around that. Bear with, and watch this space!

Love. Xxx

Confessions of a chronically ill mum #8

March 20, 2022 — Leave a comment

That chronic illness life is the gift that keeps on giving. Lots of things happening over here at DivamumHQ! Big and small changes being made and as ever, 100’s of appointments.

I started this week proud and feeling relatively ‘good’ I’ll tell you about it….

So you know I said last week that the cardiologist explained I’m showing signs of heart disease? Yeah well that’s still a thing, but I’d also had loads of blood tests taken in Jan and many of them came back abnormal. One of them, was my plasma viscosity or ‘inflammation in the blood’ I found this, like all of the others, stressful to take in. I have fibromyalgia as you know, and usually Fibro doesn’t show elevated inflammatory markers and so I couldn’t really understand what had changed. With the blood glucose also being high and everything else with my heart, it was a worry. The GP I spoke to suggested doing a repeat blood test once I’d got going with my healthy lifestyle changes. Now we all know, I don’t walk very good, and I think I’ve also mentioned I’m overweight. Well, since these findings I’ve been trying really hard to be healthier. Not so much even to lose weight, but put a little effort in to eat right (healthy), reduce portions, try and move more. Anyway I’ve managed to lose 9lbs now, and I had the repeat blood test this week and guess what my plasma viscosity is back within normal range! I’m so so so pleased, I honestly can’t even begin to tell you how rewarding it is to see tangible evidence that the work I’m putting in may well really improve my health. Of course there’s lots that can’t be done and in terms of heart disease, if I have that, it can’t be reversed BUT I can still prevent serious complications by sticking with healthy choices.

I’ve also been attending a group focused on diabetes prevention. It’s a national programme run by the NHS that has an 80% success rate. I’d gotten to a point where doing it on my own was only adding to my stress and stress itself is a factor that can increase your likelihood of developing type 2 diabetes. I’ve only had two course meetings so far but already I’m starting to understand my food intake better and the things that are within my control to be able to change. If you are reading this and considering the course, I would highly recommend it.

So that was all great… yeah? Yeah…. Until…. I went to my mum’s Thursday and when I came home and sat down, I couldn’t get back up. My pelvis has gone again. The trouble with this is, I don’t know why or how, so that means I also don’t know when or if my mobility will return to as it was. I can tell you, being immobile with a crawling baby is frightening & quite dangerous to be honest. It’s upset me because during pregnancy I was told often that my mobility would be limited postnatally, but it did improve and that gave me hope.
So now it’s poor again, it’s scary!
My health is forever fluctuating, I am learning to be more accepting and appreciative of my limitations, but it’s far from easy and acceptance isn’t linear. Some days I’m able to find gratitude in the smaller things, able to accept the things I cannot change, and others, I despair. 

Confession: When my pelvis went I questioned if this was it. Is this when my body gives up? Will I walk again. Will I walk with aids again, maybe forever?

But that aside, I have had a few positive take aways from this week, and I’ve included them below in an Instagram post I wrote this weekend.

I’m only four weeks away from the group therapy I’ve been involved in coming to an end. I really can’t describe in words how educational, enlightening and empowering attending the group has been. I want to do a whole blog post on group therapy, so I’ll save the ins and outs. One of the things we have been working on though, is radical acceptance. If you’ve not heard of this check out the link, as someone who lives with both physical and psychological illnesses that are not curable, this has been a really useful tool in my arsenal.

Confessions of a chronically ill mum #7

March 10, 2022 — Leave a comment

We started well. The weekend the kids and I went for a short walk on our own. This was a big deal because I rarely go out alone these days, and it was the first time I’d been out on foot with both children. As my health has worsened so dramatically in recent months, I have developed quite significant, but understandable, health anxiety! I took the win Saturday, rested in the afternoon and woke up Sunday ready to attack the day. But it didn’t quite work out like that. I woke up feeling extremely fatigued to the point where I couldn’t keep my eyes open and had to have a nap mid afternoon. For most of us with fibromyalgia this is normal, particularly following a day in which we’re more active. However, for me, fatigue is also a symptom of the pro-drome phase of migraine.

Being the hormonal mess that I am, I have noticed migraine attacks increasing in frequency again in the last two months. 2am Monday morning I was woken by the head pain, swiftly followed by cold sweats, hectic fever and vomiting. Monday was a write off. I spent all day in bed unable to watch tv or read and silently crying in between naps. I’ve said it before, but migraine is the most debilitating symptom for me, even more so than not being able to walk well, because migraine is a complex neurological disease that affects everything!

Fast forward to today, Thursday and I am feeling better. Not by any means ‘well’ but I was able to get out yesterday and I haven’t needed my husband to stay home from work to care for me. I also managed to get out this afternoon even though I couldn’t think of anything worse at the time I forced myself to do it and I have to say…. I’m converted. All the times people said to me ‘you need to get out’ while I led in my bed riddled with pain and anxiety, I thought those people were prize pricks to be honest, but I can see there’s merit there. I will say it’s not as simple as just getting outside when you live with chronic and or mental illness, and even in motherhood it can be hard to just get up and out. Let’s be real here it takes longer to wrestle a screaming baby into the buggy and pack your nappy bag than it does to do your weekly shop! But if you can get outside, you may benefit to some degree. For me the benefits are:

  • It’s a scenery change from the monotony of mum life.
  • I feel a sense of achievement if I’ve been able to do something, even if it’s as simple as popping to the shops.
  • That sense of achievement rewards me with feel good endorphins.
  • It’s so much easier (for me anyway) to be ‘present’ whilst in nature and not dwell on negative thoughts.
  • It’s free!

During pregnancy when I ate every meal in bed and couldn’t get down the stairs, going out was not only a physical impossibility, but it became mentally terrifying. I avoided leaving the house for so long, doing it now feels alien, but it also feels good. I feel like I’m taking back some control. 

I don’t have any major confessions this week, other than I’ve spent a lot of it feeling sorry for myself and on occasion a little bitter about how shit and unpredictable life can be when you’re unwell. I’m worried about how I’m going to do my job in a few months when I’ve already cancelled a Keeping In Touch Day because I was so unwell. However, those feelings were scuppered by guilt as they always are when I look at the bigger picture and remind myself how lucky I am to have the life I do. I’ve also learnt that life is more fun and fulfilling when you’re grateful for the tiny things. Like a hot cup of tea or getting into bed with a good book.  Kaiser, my youngest, is an absolute rogue. I’ve had to take deep breaths a plenty in the last couple of days whilst trying to stop him climbing the stairs and then throwing himself down them. Dunno if this is a boy thing but fuck, it’s hard work.

It’s easy for me to write this today because today has been such a huge improvement opposed to earlier in the week. That’s not to say I won’t feel the sadness and resentment again in the near future, but it means today I choose happy. We don’t always get a choice, and so on the days that we are gifted one, we have a responsibility to ourselves, to make it a good one. 

Included at the bottom of this page is a link to ‘Buy Me A Coffee’ (or book, in my case) please don’t be put off by this!
Currently, Divamum makes no money, and whilst I love writing, in order to keep growing I have decided to accept donations.
Just to clarify you are in no way obligated to make a donation and at no point will this become mandatory, it’s just there as an optional extra for anyone who would like to and all information is available via the link. https://www.buymeacoffee.com/Divamumsteph

Confessions of a chronically ill mum #6

March 1, 2022 — Leave a comment

I cannot write a blog at the moment and not mention the atrocities that are taking place in Ukraine. I feel, as many or all of you do, helpless and extremely overwhelmed. There are things we can do though, many local communities have teamed up to take donations and we can donate financially. We can also all spend a little more time looking after the people that we love.

It’s important to remember when we’re/I’m feeling overwhelmed and powerless, to focus on things within our control. As mentioned with the Ukraine situation, we may not be able to make an immediate impact, but we can make an impact by doing things to help that are within our power. Donate in anyway possible. If you cannot afford to donate financially, donate physical items. You can find more information on how to donate with The Red Cross here

But I’ll confess, that this week I have turned down the news. Not because I don’t care, but because I do. I’ll confess that I am scared. I’ll confess that I feel immense guilt about situations out of my control. I’ll confess that sometimes the world’s problems weigh heavy on my mind, and other times I am consumed by my own. You can be a good person and care and still prioritise your mental health by taking a break from the influx of news occasionally.

The impact of stress on our physical health

When I become overwhelmed my anxiety spikes and if it spikes too high, it topples over into full blown panic. When I am experiencing panic attacks I cannot care for myself or my family. I become plagued by intrusive thoughts and life starts to spiral. I cannot just sit by and allow that to happen again. I have to try and use the skills I’ve learned in recent months to dial down the anxiety. Particularly because I was told this week that I am significantly high risk for heart attack or stroke, not in the future, but now. I’ve mentioned before that these risk factors showed up on recent blood tests. This week I had an appointment with the cardiologist who confirmed said risks. I am very frightened about what this means, of course I am, I am only 33 years old… and I have a family. However I am taking important life changing steps that are within my control, to reduce these risks as much as possible, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less taxing, or terrifying.

Reminders

What I need to remind myself of though, is that risks do not equal certainties. Because again, if I overthink the risks I am likely to spiral and lose my shit entirely. Group therapy is helping me learn lots of coping skills and medication is levelling me out, to a degree. Ultimately though, I have to take back my power and remind myself everyday that my best is good enough. There are many people in the world without my underlying health conditions whose lives still follow a trajectory that ends with ill health. Therefore I have no control over how my body responds to stressors, but I do have some control in eliminating some of those stressors. I am working hard on cutting down on my sugar and lowering my GI intake because of the prediabetes. I have removed fast food from my diet and I am trying to move more.

  • Mentally I am trying to relieve myself of guilt associated with my worsening health.
  • Physically I am trying to move more and be proactive.
  • Emotionally I am setting aside gripes and trying to improve communication with my family. I am trying to be more present, always.
  • Proactively I am following all advice from doctors and taking them up on the offerings of lifestyle support.

Tonight I had my first diabetes group. It’s a nine month program offered to NHS patients to reduce the risk of developing, or experiencing, complications from diabetes. I didn’t want to attend, mainly because I’m hormonal today, experiencing a moderate flare up in fibromyalgia symptoms and profound fatigue. Kaiser turned 8 months old, he still doesn’t sleep, is teething and very, very demanding. You cannot take your eyes off him for a second because he’ll be chewing the dog’s leg or eating the dirt dirt off the bottom of Ciara’s wellies (FML). Ultimately though, I just couldn’t be assed. I debated several times throughout the day not bothering with the course at all, because of course I know how to lose weight and be healthier all on my own. Diabetes isn’t just about being overweight though, in fact it isn’t at all, many slim and even underweight people, have diabetes. It’s about learning what is going to fuel your body and what is likely to hinder it in specific relation to blood glucose.

I’m so glad I attended, because I learned a lot. I’d go as far as to say I’m excited about the course now, because it’s giving me back some of the control I’ve been scrambling around anxiously for.

More than anything I want to make positive but sustainable changes. I know my life will be hindered by illness I’ve lived with chronic symptoms for a long time now and unfortunately there’s no cure for most of them. But there are things I can do to help myself. My whole life I have fallen victim to believing that everything is shit so what is the point, and the point is…. Everything doesn’t have to be shit all of the time.

If you are affected by diabetes you can find support here Diabetes Uk

Finishing quickly on another positive, I lobbed off my hair and went even more Cruella, let me know what you think via my insta. 

Included at the bottom of this page is a link to ‘Buy Me A Coffee’ (or book, in my case) please don’t be put off by this!
Currently, Divamum makes no money, and whilst I love writing, in order to keep growing I have decided to accept donations.
Just to clarify you are in no way obligated to make a donation and at no point will this become mandatory, it’s just there as an optional extra for anyone who would like to and all information is available via the link. https://www.buymeacoffee.com/Divamumsteph

Confessions of a chronically ill mum #5

February 21, 2022 — Leave a comment

The difference two weeks make when you’re living your life around hormones, pain, kids and food…

Ok so some context, last week I was so irrational and some days inconsolable. I cried relentlessly and burst into a tearful rage when my husband told me roofers were coming to do some work on our roof. 

I’ll go as far as confessing my embarrassment when I attended group therapy Friday and had to partake in an exercise. It went like this.. 
Group facilitator: Name a situation this week whereby you haven’t been able to contain your emotions. 
Me: My husband told me the roofers were coming and I don’t want them there, making noise, antagonising the dog, leaving their shit all over my driveway, waking the baby up with their clanking, etc etc etc. 
Group facilitator: Ok now strip away your interpretation and just give us the facts. What was the situation?
Me: My husband told me the roofers were coming.

I can laugh about it now, because I realise how pathetic it is to get so emotional and behave so irrationally over something rather minor. However, to me and my perception, all I could think of was them invading my safe space and my peace, and my feelings felt really valid at the time. I know my hormones and the way I am living my life around them at the moment isn’t sustainable. My daily tracker consists of days feeling angry/anxious/flat/tearful to severe itchy skin/insomnia/nightsweats/cramps/bloating and more. But even with these hellish symptoms, likely as a result of taking progesterone, I’ll still take them over feeling suicidal every month and having migraine attacks that last a week at a time. Weighing it up with pros and cons isn’t the right thing for me to do, because in all honesty I have to accept that I will live with moderate to severe symptoms probably indefinitely, whilst praying that their severity is less.

In the last two weeks Ciara has been poorly, emotional and generally not herself. In the last few days she has perked up again and this brings me joy, I really struggle to regulate my own emotions when the kids are ill and I know they need me to master this better. For some reason I just seem to retain so much anxiety when one of them is not their usual selves. Kaiser has started flying around on his knees faster than our old Seat Leon, and climbing the walls quite literally, but still rarely sleeping. I’ve also spent a night alone in the house with Kaiser that I was petrified of doing, eradicated lots of foods from my diet and lost 6lbs despite the cravings those hazardous hormones bring! So it’s not been all bad.

It’s also noteworthy that whilst some symptoms have been tolerable, fibro fatigue and brain fog has been much worse, though physical pain in the more manageable stakes. We’ve gotten out and seen friends we’ve not seen for ages. I’ve all but organised everything for Ciara’s birthday party, and…life goes on. It’s up and down and yoyo’s persistently but some of it, is ‘just life’ I guess, and not everything is a catastrophe, as much as my brain would like to convince me otherwise!

Next week I have my first appointment with the diabetes team postpartum, and also an appointment with cardiology. Alongside these I have to collect my new laptop for my imminent return to work and arrange for Kaiser to meet his childminder. It’s all go for sure, but it’s not all bad. Shaun and I have a night off this weekend, his parents are having both children so we can lie in bed all day and binge watch all the TV we started the last time we didn’t have the kids home which was January!

Life is good and then it isn’t, it’s awful followed by magnificent, excruciating and liberating all at once. So far this week, I’m grateful for small wins, play dates, family and friendship.

Ps. The roofers haven’t even turned up yet!

Confessions of a chronically ill mum. #4

February 10, 2022 — Leave a comment

It’s all been going on! Since last week’s news about my health, I’ve been determined to go full steam ahead with the diet change. For us, living on takeaways we can’t afford and binging on food instead of our pre kid vices like booze and fags, has been the norm for so, so long. Shaun set us a goal of no takeaways in February and I know we’re only 2 weeks in but for a couple who ate pizza and mail order brownies several times a week, we’re smashing it. I’ve signed up to do a diabetes prevention course which I’m keen, but also stressed about getting started on. Keen because I want to make the best changes possible, but stressed because it’s another thing to try and squeeze in to my ever full appointments calendar.

Kids

Kaiser has started crawling! At seven months old, Ciara was crawling at six months plus two weeks, so this didn’t come as a huge surprise. But how annoying are kids that move so soon?

Confession - This week Kaiser had to see a paediatrician. I won’t go into detail here but, we need to get a urine sample from him. Note I say need and not needed because after two hours of trying to catch his piss in a plastic tub, inside a waiting room on the children’s ward, I gave up. I also, and shoot me for being a terrible mother, wished they would just do a bastard heel prick blood test and let him scream! After failing in my attempts and wrestling him into a position that wasn’t comfortable for either of us, I left the appointment sweating profusely in unbearable pain and doing a lot of cussing. Nobody wants to see their baby in pain, but dear god I would of preferred the blood spot over that pantomime. Worse still I am going to have to endure the debacle all over again in my second attempt. Have googled whether it’s ok to wring out a nappy, but have been sadly informed it is not! Fucking Kids!! To top that, Ciara had an appointment at Bristol Eye Hospital and fainted! My second confession is that I was glad it was Shaun that was with her and not me. I know that sounds awful but I also know I would have panicked so badly I wouldn’t of been able to cope. Or maybe I would, maybe I’d have dealt with it on autopilot. Right now though, I’m just glad she’s safe and seems to be otherwise fine. She’s so desperate to go to school tomorrow for her non uniform day in aid of Childrens Mental Health Week that I’m letting her sleep with me tonight so I can monitor how she’s doing.

Hormones

I’ve been struggling immensely with TMD and went to the dentist on Monday only for them to shave off half of one of my wisdom teeth and then tell me that probably won’t work. PSA, it didn’t! Unfortunately, hormones (those bastards) really flare up all of my pain and it’s not unusual for me to experience horrific TMD during ovulation and through luteal.

Speaking of hormones, I’ve been taking progesterone for around 4 months now, and whilst I am seeing some relief from the mental health symptoms, physically things are no better. In fact I may even go as far as to say they are a little worse. It’s hard because I have to weigh up what is worse, and realistically I know it’s the crippling anxiety and thoughts of suicide, along with inexplicable rage. But knowing this still doesn’t make the physical symptoms any easier to manage.

Breakthroughs

What I will say though, is that I am managing the mental symptoms I am experiencing, much, much better. And I think I have therapy to thank for that. It’s a slow burn, therapy! It makes you feel vulnerable with each session, but the more vulnerable you can allow yourself to be, the less that vulnerability is able to take hold. Then suddenly, seven months later, you realise you are doing better! You don’t always feel it, but you know it’s true. The feeling of drowning in quicksand every time you have a bad day gets less, and it starts to feel more as though you’ve just been inconveniently splashed by a car driving through a muddy puddle.

I’m not saying I’m cured, or that I will never have episodes of dread and impending doom again. But I feel right now, that if I do experience that again, I have more tools in my arsenal to help me fight it. I’ve another eight weeks of group therapy to get through before I can be discharged from the perinatal service. Discharge looms, like a black cloud really, because I’ve been helped in so many amazing ways by the team that I’d like to be able to talk to them about my trauma forever. At some point in the not so distant future, I’m going to have to hold my own hand.

Confessions of a chronically ill mum #3

February 1, 2022 — Leave a comment

Where to start. Good news or bad? I think I’ll start with the good. The weekend just passed, my husband and I went away for a cheeky, little, couple’s soirée. We travelled about an hour away from where we live in Bristol, to the Mendip hills and stayed in a holiday cottage. It was divine. The most exquisite bedroom complete with a roll top bath and Netflix, we spent most of our time in there catching up on….. you guessed it, sleep!

It also had a wood fired hot tub, we only successfully heated it up once, so the following day we had to cold dip instead! Suffice to say that ‘dip’ was much shorter in duration!

I’ve mentioned in previous blogs that I don’t really drink alcohol anymore. Only on very rare occasions, not because I’m a martyr or anything like that, just because my health doesn’t really allow for it these days. I was worried about how we would entertain ourselves without booze as this is the first time we’ve been away together since our wedding in Jan 2020! I needn’t of worried though, we had such a lovely relaxing time, chilled, acted stupid and just made the most of not having a child hanging off an arm each for three nights! I also managed to get through the weekend without any real flare issues. I did have hormonal cramps on one of the days but given the pain levels I’m used to, it was manageable and I’m so thankful for that.

Fast forward to Tuesday and I received a letter I wasn’t expecting. I’ve had a lot of tests recently because of a decline in my health and new unexplained symptoms. One of the tests was a standard blood glucose test and one of them was a cholesterol test. My cholesterol has been high for some time and I’m now, at aged just 33 being told I’m at serious risk of developing cardiovascular disease in the next five to ten years and will require lifelong medication to prevent the risk of heart attack and stroke. I had gestational diabetes in pregnancy and was prescribed both oral and injectable insulin. It was hell on earth to be honest, I became obsessed with my sugar levels and racked with anxiety and panic. My blood glucose result is high again and I read it and cried, my father has type two diabetes and because of having gestational diabetes I am high risk already. I believed immediately I had type2 and would need insulin again. It turns out after reading the results properly, I’m in pre-diabetes or borderline diabetic. Which means: I need a lifestyle overhaul immediately.

It’s safe to say despite not yet being diabetic I am still devastated by these findings. On top of, Fibromyalgia PMDD Migraine SPD and Post Herpetic Neuralgia (reoccurring shingles pain) and catching covid at Christmas and currently being screened for heart and breast problems, I’m already in a pretty bad way. If we add in the mental health stuff too, Panic disorder and Perinatal Anxiety you might be starting to understand, as to why this has devastated me so much. Or you might be thinking I’m a hypochondriac, I wish I was. But sadly, all of this is very real.

At the moment, I feel shrouded in guilt and shame around having so many health problems at 33 years old.

That might sound crazy, because I didn’t ask for any of this, but I haven’t always followed advice either. I haven’t always done the right thing when it comes to self care & I’m struggling with that, because now I’m having to live with real life consequences.

I’m struggling with it because I have two kids & I feel like they deserve better than what I’ve been able to give them. I can’t even get decent life insurance with a premium that I can afford because my health is in such a poor state.

I feel guilty when I can’t get to Kaiser fast enough because my body isn’t playing ball or when I can’t rock him to sleep or carry him upstairs. When Ciara sees me in bed for the 1000th time on a weekend (the only time I can get a break when my husband is home) and asks me when I’m going to feel better, it makes me feel like shit.

I mentioned last week that I’ve let myself go, particularly in reference to my weight and I know some people reading this will think, just lose weight then! But it IS hard when your body punishes you every time you exercise and your mobility is extremely limited.
It IS hard when you’ve given up lots of the things you used to enjoy, and now your main thing to look forward to is what you’re eating.
It’s hard when your hormones upturn your life every two weeks and your hunger is cloaked in rage and desperation. It’s hard when you have no energy to prepare food, and you can’t open the lid on a jar, or lift a pan without help. It’s embarrassing. I am embarrassed. I’m ashamed to admit these things, they are the things I keep hidden or try to do independently and pay for afterwards. I’m telling you now, because it’s the truth. And because I know I have to take some accountability for the state my health is in. 

Confession: These are excuses, but (hear me out) in some cases they’re valid excuses, because they do affect my ability to live a healthy lifestyle. And on top of those excuses I have been making positive changes. I’ve made so many I can’t even tell you, especially in direct relation to my mental health. However, physically it’s not enough, there is no alternative. I have to start somewhere, I have to lose weight, I have to try and build on my fitness somehow, and I have to start now.

I’m not wallowing in this latest health hit. I refuse to do that. I cannot be overcome with additional anxiety about my health. I cannot change these things overnight, but I may be able to limit some of the risks if I start now.
So here I am, baring it all. Starting where I am and working with what I have, now, today. (Well actually I started yesterday, as soon as I read the letter.) It’s not going to be easy, but I can’t waste anymore time on excuses. I can’t just wait and see. I have to take drastic action.

I have to take action, for my family. 

If you or someone you know lives with any of the health conditions mentioned you can access information about where to get support via the hyperlinks.

Confessions Of A Chronically Ill Mum #2

January 20, 2022 — 1 Comment

This week in our house everyone seems to be fully over the ‘Rona, except me, of course not me. My symptoms are lingering and have worsened whilst I’ve been in the luteal phase of my cycle. This isn’t unusual, I often get flare ups in all symptoms around this time of the month, and particularly symptoms stemming from viruses that weaken your immune system. I’ve had recurring shingles for a few years now and every single month without fail, despite being on antivirals indefinitely, I get a flare up in nerve pain at the outbreak site.

Having said that, this past week I’ve been busy! So busy, that I’ve had to be organised. I notice this organisation has had a positive impact on my mood despite being in luteal. It’s classic distraction I guess. Also my husband and I have a weekend away booked as it was our wedding anniversary this week and just knowing that I have three nights of child free sleep to look forward to, is undeniably liberating.

A few more things happened and one of them was, I saw a new GP. A big deal for me. I’ve had the same GP since before my Fibro diagnosis six years ago, and she’s been amazing. The idea of seeing a new one whilst she is on maternity leave has filled me with dread for months. But today I did it. It was ok. I went in with a list and ticked off all of this in 10 minutes….

  • ECG Booked
  • Fasting bloods booked
  • Referral to rapid cardiac clinic
  • Breast clinic follow up appointment booked
  • Chased up Lipid clinic referral
  • Discussed further gynae/endocrinology input re PMDD
  • Post covid obs done
  • Face to face appointment for Kaiser booked for post covid obs.

Why am I telling you all of this in a blog post? 

Well there is a reason, and it’s this weeks confession. I have always been a person that actively advocates for myself and my health. After all if I don’t, who else is going to do it for me? I research everything, I connect dots and I track my symptoms. But for months now, I have been slacking. It took me two months to drum up the courage to get a referral to the breast clinic, even though I had a very visible lump in my left breast. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be bothered to argue the toss with the drs receptionist about why I needed a face to face appointment, and every time I spoke to a healthcare professional that wasn’t part of my mental health team, I cried.

When you have chronic and mental illness you get used to being dismissed by doctors.

Can’t breathe, crushing chest pain? Probably just a Fibro flare up, I’m sure that’s a symptom! Or actually maybe it’s anxiety, have you been stressed lately?

Skull smashed open and brain hanging out? Sounds like a panic attack.

Gone blind? Sounds like a migraine.

And so on. I know I’m being glib, and I’m sorry if this exaggeration offends anyone, but seriously, sometimes visiting the doctor is like pulling fucking teeth. The issue with that is, the doctor’s the only person who can help you get the treatment you need, for the answers you had to figure out yourself.

And when you have kids it’s not even a case of whether or not you can cope with your symptoms. You don’t get a choice. I know it’s easy for me to say, and many people reading this may well think, well if it was that bad you wouldn’t be able to just cope. The truth is though, parents with their own health issues do just cope. Even the ones diagnosed with life threatening cancers still do the school run between scans and treatments. I personally have friends who have had to do this so I know that it’s true for some.

Big thing number 2.

Group therapy. I started it today. I want to write a whole blog post on the pros and cons once I’ve had a few more sessions so for now I’ll keep it brief. The session was two hours long. Two hours spent with a group in person might have felt quite nice, a chance to learn some new mindfulness skills and have a chat with others in a similar boat to myself, but two hours online was painstakingly long. Kaiser napped for just 15 minutes of it and trying to listen to other women speak over the top of crying baby heads felt strained. There were a few rules too, like we had to keep our camera on at all times so I couldn’t roll my eyes or go for a wee without having to let everyone know my reasons. I want to benefit from the group and I’m sure in time I’ll get used to it and maybe even bring some of my own value to it, but today I found it just made a stressful day with a baby, more stressful. The whole idea of this group is to be able to learn to regulate my emotions better, to deal with stress in a more productive way, and to feel more in control. So I’m going to stick it out, even if the first session did feel like it was an intrusion on my time. Therapy, I’ve learned is not supposed to be comfortable and it requires commitment so I feel I owe to myself to see this through.

Full time job

It has felt lately as though looking after my health and trying to juggle appointments and treatment is a full time job. Having a baby is also a full time job, both without annual leave or pay. I’m due back to work soon and no idea what I’m going to do about childcare or how to manage two full time jobs on top of a part time paid job. I want to be well in order to participate in my children’s lives, but I also need to earn money to be able to give them a decent life. The system is still fucked. It still penalises mothers who work or have partners. Childcare is still extortion, and I know I’m not alone in this plight. I just wish it was one of the ones I didn’t have to think about right now, but I know I do, as with the cost of living rising and wages becoming stagnant, it’s a very real threat to our livelihood and I guess lifestyle too.

Finally

Finally I’ve become more aware this week just how much I’ve let myself go, and I’ve set myself tiny goals of putting my makeup on more often and making sure I’m grooming myself! So far it’s going ok, but they do say it takes at least 3 weeks to form a habit so I’ll catch you up then.

Confessions of a chronically ill mum.

January 14, 2022 — Leave a comment

I stood on my mum’s drive yesterday morning, trying to make plans to go for a walk together like we had earlier in the week. As I walked away from her with a ‘provisional’ plan for the following week, I felt sadness, embarrassment and shame. My mum is my best friend. I needn’t feel any of these things in her presence, but the truth is, I feel it in everyone’s presence. Since the beginning of December my physical health has been increasingly hard to manage. I have spent days in bed. My husband has had to take days off from work, and my daughter has said the words ‘when you feel better, mummy’ on repeat. I missed a visit to Santa with her, and I didn’t get to spend Boxing Day with family as was planned. Then on top of that, we all, everyone in our house, caught covid.

I’ve cried in pain holding my son and I’ve listened to his cries when I’ve been physically unable to hold him any longer.

I’ve also had good days. I had friends round and we toasted marshmallows in the garden. I sat through a pantomime with my son on my lap and my daughter by my side. I spent a night in a hotel with my husband. Following those days though, I suffered immensely for the privilege. That’s when life can be really sucky, when your body (and mind) punishes you, just for living. In the last two years I’ve abstained from alcohol. I’ve had one night out since August 2020. I’ve tried to eat better and I’ve tried to get enough sleep (not an easy feat with a baby.)

And I can say with honesty and confidence that I have done my best to partake in activities with my family. I have done my best to limit my symptoms. I’ve done an incredible amount of work on my mental health and I’ve worked through a lot of what was previously, unresolved trauma. I’ve fucking tried. But the thing with your health is, you can do everything right and still be unwell. You can do everything in your power to manage your illnesses and still suffer flare ups. You can get eight hours sleep and still be bone weary fatigued as though someone has poured cement into your bones.

I’m writing this because it’s true. Not for sympathy, though I’ll be honest, more empathy is always welcome. I don’t gain anything from sharing my illness and it’s trials. It doesn’t serve me personally, but occasionally I’m told it helps other people. I’ve said before, but sympathy is in short supply when people realise your condition is long term but not life threatening. Not life threatening no, but it IS life limiting in some way, every single day.

I feel often as if managing my health is a full time job. Being a parent is a full time job. I have no time for my actual job, and no energy left for anything fun. For six months I have had medical appointments every week, often twice a week. I’ve been unable to walk, and then I’ve been able to walk, followed by days unable again.

I often write about holding onto the good days and I stand by that, but it does get tiresome when you feel like you’re always being punished for them. I’m not even talking always good days, sometimes it’s good hours followed by a migraine, or a surge of otherworldly fatigue so achingly exhausting that there’s nothing left to do but take to your bed. The trouble with taking to your bed when you have kids is, you rarely get the opportunity to do such a thing, and secondly, but probably more notably, you miss things. 

My confession is, sometimes I find the responsibility of my illness on top of the responsibility of my kids so overwhelming I pray for oblivion. Sometimes I find time with my kids assaulting to my senses. And sometimes I feel so guilty for their plight having me as their mother that I wonder if they are better off without me.

Thankfully, and going back to all of the ‘work’ I’ve done on my mental health this past year, I know this isn’t true. I know they love me including my flaws, health problems and weaknesses, not in spite of.

I guess the narrative for this blog was to get these feelings off my chest, and also remind myself that (and I’m sure I’ve used this quote before) but….

Bad days do not equal a bad life

It’s hard being a mum regardless of health, wealth or any of the other things that make life easier. Perinatal depression and anxiety do not discriminate, chronic illness, illnesses of any kind actually, do not discriminate. The world is a tough place to parent, and knowing this doesn’t make it easier, but it does remind me I’m not alone.

Sending love to anyone else feeling like they’re on their knees. Know this, better days are always coming.

Another new year

December 31, 2021 — Leave a comment

Last year I wrote a post titled Unhappy New Year and in short it was about what a shit show 2020 had been for us all. At the end of the blog I gave myself some small resolutions, to be less judgemental and apply less blame, find the positives etc. It wasn’t until I read back over the post that I realised I have achieved most of them. I think my mindset is definitely different these days. Whilst I won’t pretend I’m Lady Optimistic I am more optimistic than the me of previous years. I’m also, so much more self aware. Aware in general. I have therapy to thank for most of these changes.

The first half of 2021 was awful for us. Worse than 2020, tenfold. With me being in a wheelchair, trying to homeschool and work from home, a baby on the way that I wasn’t managing to care for as I’d hoped, gestational diabetes along with other complications made me so unwell. It all felt as though I was on a rapid decline. As Kaiser’s due date neared, my mental health worsened. Most of you know what happened next, but in case you don’t, I was hospitalised and my labour induced after psychiatric evaluation. It was decided that for the sake of my mental health and the health of our baby, he needed to be born.

I’m six months postpartum now and on my road to recovery of perinatal mental illness. I’m working hard to regain my mobility, manage my chronic illnesses, care for a newborn, and five year old, keep house and balance my hormones, oh and avoid covid, there have been many, many, bumps.

However, I believe despite the awful ordeals we have faced, the fact everyone in the house contracted covid over Christmas resulting in a real scare with Kaiser (currently all still positive and feeling really quite bad) as well as living with perpetual lack of sleep, we’ve smashed 2021. As a family we have worked harder than ever, there are broken pieces where we were once whole, and there have been rivers cried too. Our marriage has taken a hit, and parenting two children instead of one has been a huge change for us. But, having weekly therapy, finding a decent medication combination, owning my shit, being brave, digging deep, along with all that mindful bollocks previously discarded as useless information I’ll never need has been put to great, life changing use.

I don’t believe I made it through 2021 on luck or a wing and a prayer. No, I made it through this year with sheer determination, love, and hard mental graft.

Two days ago I was back in the hospital I birthed Kaiser in. I’ve been there only once since I had him, and that was recently to find out I had a tumour (benign) in my left breast. During that appointment I had my mum holding my hand. The second time was two nights ago, alone, with a baby who’d just tested positive for covid along with a husband at home who’d also tested positive so couldn’t be there to support me and our son.

I sat in the hospital room and cried alone, whilst the nurse told me my baby would need oxygen. I cried again when his levels were back up and we were told we could go home.

I’m still suffering anxiety six months postnatal, but most of the time it’s in response to ‘normal’ anxiety provoking situations, like hospitals and poor health. The rest of the time I’m using the tools it’s taken me six months to master, to manage it. I’m trying to show myself compassion and I’m working really fucking hard on gratitude too.

As I write this late at night after finally getting my kids to sleep, oscillating between shivering and sweating buckets with a fever. I decided to think about whether I have any resolutions for 2022, and the truth is I do, but my main and most important one is, I plan to continue to heal. For myself, and for my family. My kids deserve a mum who isn’t falling apart at the seams, and I deserve the love and care I so readily give to others.

If I could give my readers any advice for the new year, it would be that you treat yourself with more kindness.

Ok so I’ll throw in a few more for good measure… here goes

  • Love the people who treat you well
  • Have empathy for the ones that don’t (unless they’re just c*nts, then fuck them) but try the empathy first. It might surprise you.
  • Stay in your own lane. Comparison is the thief of joy.
  • Tell people you love them, tell them often.
  • Stay in the present, if it’s not happening right now, it’s not happening.
  • Get more fresh air.
  • You don’t need permission to rest.
  • Don’t look back, unless it’s to see how far you’ve come. 
HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM ME AND MINE TO YOU AND YOURS XOXO

Is Elf On The Shelf making you feel like a crap mother?

December 23, 2021 — Leave a comment

Apparently, according to the world of social media, the answer for some is yes. But I’m gonna call bullshit on this one and say it’s likely not the elf but the comparison to other mums that’s making you feel inadequate.

Let me explain…. As someone who uses Instagram to share family life, and who chooses to celebrate and share both successes and failures, I am very aware of how seeing things online can impact your mental health.

There are a whole host of topics that could or should be banned from social media. Topics that in my opinion elicit trauma, and if it was up to me I would choose not to read or see the things that trigger me.

Oh wait, for the most part is IS up to me.

I am able to mute, unfollow, ask not to see this again, in order to clean up my news feed.

Hence why I find it just a little bit unnecessary when someone has a rant about how Elf on the Shelf is making mothers (them) feel inadequate.

People who have tidy houses, are hugely successful and look like supermodels make me feel inadequate, but it would take me one hundred years, most likely bitter years, to successfully call out all of these people on their pretentiousness, but why would I want to?

Don’t get me wrong, as a disabled mother on a low income, I know what it’s like to be hard up. I’ve experienced trauma and I know what it’s like to struggle with your mental health. We all have triggers. All of us. But we also need to take stock and stop blaming others for triggering us.

The mum posting her child’s toy elf prancing around on a plastic dinosaur is not doing so to make you feel inadequate.

Realistically, she is probably doing it to make herself feel better, a silent high five to having remembered that Fergus-Frosty-Pants the elf needed to move his matchstick body, to another part of the house after her kids were tucked up in bed.

Similarly, the mum who takes pride in her home and posts pictures of it, is not doing so to make you feel inadequate. She’s sharing something she’s proud of.

I’m not a big fan of sharing hauls, or how many presents my kids get, mainly because I’ve always been brought up not to place too much value on material things, but you know what? If I could afford to do all the things with my kids that I’d like, if I could afford to shower them with gifts that fill rooms, I probably would. Of course we need to educate our children not to place value on how much they receive, I had a conversation just yesterday with my daughter about being grateful for all that she has as opposed to being sad about the things she doesn’t. It started when she sulked walking back from the shop because they didn’t have the Christmas tree biscuits we usually buy to decorate this time of year. We had a good chat about all the lovely things we’ve done and the crafts we’ve made in the run up to Christmas and that sulking about not being able to decorate some chewy gingerbread, kind of pales into insignificance if we compare. We talked about how there will inevitably always be things we want that we can’t have. Things others have that may make us jealous or resentful, but this is part of life. It’s literally something we all, even us as adults (clearly) will experience often. Comparison is the thief of joy and if we focus on what everyone else is doing and allow it to make us feel shit about ourselves, we lose sight of all the great things we have and if I’ve learned anything in the last year (and I like to think I’ve learned a whole lot) it’s that gratitude is not only a healthier way to eradicate the feelings of inadequacy that comes with comparison, it also helps us to feel better about what we have.

I see posts all the time saying ‘it’s ok if you don’t have XYZ this Christmas’ and of course it is, but I’m nonplussed as to when anybody suggested it wasn’t.

I myself am guilty of previously following trends, especially with the kids. Always wanting to make sure my daughter has a birthday party as great those of her peers. Don’t forget the photo ops, balloon arches and all that. However, I’ve learned that actually she’s happy if there is food and dancing, and she doesn’t really give a shit if she has 100 balloons positioned into a giant rainbow at five years old. I’ll add as well that all of these things are available in DIY and don’t cost the earth if you’re prepared to graft yourself.

We’re all human, trying our best, wanting the best for our kids, and it’s hard enough to avoid the never ending guilt that is placed on us as mothers, without turning on each other for moving around a felt elf, two weeks a year.

Just do you. XOXO

All I want for Christmas, is you.

December 21, 2021 — 2 Comments

What a year. I can’t believe that just six months ago I felt as though my world had imploded without any real warning. I woke up one day and didn’t feel like me anymore. I was afraid for my sanity, for my mobility, for my family and our future.
I couldn’t see past six hours without having a panic attack let alone six months.
I led in my bed, day in day out for 7 months, unable to walk.
As my son’s due date approached my mental health declined.
I felt consumed by all consuming, claustrophobic, fear. Wracked with perinatal anxiety.
I was broken.
I guess that’s why they call it a breakdown.
But here we are now, a family of four, surviving interminable routine and carnage, poor health and therapy, work and parenthood simultaneously.
Loving each other through it all.
It’s not been easy, it’s been hard getting here, ridiculously fucking hard in fact, but it has paid dividends to keep going.

I’ve got everything I need this Christmas. Genuinely. I feel so content with my family. When I say this I mean content as in they are enough, not content as in getting loads of sleep or life being perfect, unfortunately! Ha! I know how blessed I am, I’ve always known it, but I really feel it this year. After everything we’ve been through I have a desire to keep them close and let them know how much I love them. The only thing I want for the big day is more of that contentment (as well as good health & freedom for all, world peace too, but I’ll refrain from getting too ambitious.)

I am not the same old me I was last Christmas. Granted, I’m still a stressy, messy, bitch with a foul mouth who is always exhausted…. but I am also different. I’m softer round the edges. More vulnerable I guess, if that’s possible, but stronger too. I believe that what doesn’t kill us can leave us with a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms, and I by no means, have ditched all mine. I haven’t turned into a preacher or someone who promotes their new lifestyle as some big epiphany, desperate for people to follow. But I am interested in change, in finding fun and contentment in new places. That makes me further away from those unhealthy coping mechanisms than I once was and I’m proud of that. I suppose what I’m trying to say is, I’m more open to learning better ways to survive and enjoy the mundane in the everyday.

I’m less inclined to sweat the small stuff whilst simultaneously being more interested in the big stuff.
My tolerance for a lot of things is greater, but less for small talk. I’ve always struggled with chatting aimlessly about the weather and the like, I’m too nosy, too inquisitive, I want to meet people and know them, not skirt around edges with hollow pleasantries. Similarly I’d rather be quizzed on my life than have it glossed over, skipped or ignored. I’m over hanging on to dead end relationships and chasing things that don’t bring me joy. Whether that be friendships that are more effort than fulfilment, or doing things I don’t enjoy anymore, for example forcing myself to be somewhere I don’t want to be. This year I have no desire for big boozy nights feigning Christmas cheer. I mean obviously the pandemic has some impact on those kinda outings, but I honestly think even without the plague, I’d still just want to be snuggled up close with my nearest and dearest.

Transitioning from one child to two has been a lot. I’m already anxious about how I’m going to cope with a baby that hates sleep whilst I’m trying to eat my turkey dinner. However, I’m ok with those kind of anxieties, they’re normal, they make me feel normal, whatever ‘normal’ is.
The biggest change of all for us this year is of course the fact we have an extra person round the tree to love. And love him we do. ❤️🎄