Hello! It’s been a good couple of days since my last post and Saturday was a bad day! I’ve found that the most difficult aspect of post natal depression is that you can have a run of really good days and then it just sneaks up on you and you feel like you’re back down in that big pit again. Bleugh, which is what happened on Saturday morning.
Thursday morning I was very brave and went to meet my friend at the local mother and baby/toddler coffee morning- first time ever. Sebby absolutely loved it, shouting and laughing at all the other children and getting over excited and squealing at the sea of new toys! We left a little early, feeling very chuffed with myself, and met my best friend who had come to stay with us. We had a lovely afternoon at Cardinham woods and munched our way through a delicious homemade picnic (trying to save a bit of money!) followed by a relaxing walk. The evening was ok, except my other half made us watch the football, with the promise that we’d have the flat for a girly film the next evening! Friday we went to Eden Project covered from head to toe in factor 50, sunhat and UV sunshade. Boom, that’s proper sun safety for you! And then ended the day with a ridiculously stomach churning, vomit inducing girly flick.
I woke up on Saturday morning feeling like an elephant had sat on my chest all night, usually the tell tale sign that I’m going to be a bit ‘wobbly’. My head felt as though it was full of cotton wool and I was exhausted. Quite simply, I felt like s**t. Having to explain to people how I’m feeling on a bad day is something I find very difficult. I feel very embarrassed and guilty. My partner is very used to it now and knows that I’ll feel better when I’ve had my medication and with a lot of emotional support will feel much better by the end of the day. My friend who was staying was wonderful about it and I got a big hug (I cannot tell you how much good can come from a proper hug) I didn’t need to explain anything to them and I had a good cry afterwards.
I struggled to remember things throughout the day, my friend kept hold of all the keys as I most definitely would have lost them. I perked up a bit after we had been around the Vintage Craft Fair at Wadebridge, devoured a cheeky cream tea at the Glass House and had a wander along the Camel Trail.
Fast forward a couple of hours and I was sitting in my little car (Clive) in Asda car park with Sebby fast asleep in the back, struggling to catch my breath and quietly but violently sobbing. At the time I thought it was just because my friend had gone home and I would miss her terribly (and I do) but looking back I realise it was actually because I don’t know how long my recovery will take. I know it’s going to take a long time and I’m fully prepared to put in the effort needed to get there but it’s the good (slightly manic) days that lull me into a false sense of security. It’s when I start to toy with the idea that I don’t really need the medication and I don’t need to go to the counsellor or continue my fortnightly appointments with my HV that the alarm bells in my friends and family’s heads start to ring and they all rally round trying to pull me back in. Haha makes me sound like a right loony right?!…………………… A very lucky loony!
But, it is what it is and I just remind myself that I WILL be better soon and it’s going to take some time and I shouldn’t feel guilty. But it’s really bloody hard work 🙂
Untangled 