The facts and my musings about my life as a mother with mental health problems. How we all cope as a family. Parenting my child through depression and anxiety. Candid, sometimes bleak, sometimes hopeful, but always honest. One post won't tell you my story- follow me to get to know my life.
Wednesday, 27 June 2012
Huge day for my girl and I today. It's the end of the Playcentre term, and our co-ordinator is leaving us. She's been at the centre for 9 years, but felt it was time for her to move on. So we had a going away party, with Playcentre families from years gone by, and other members of the community attending too, to say farewell.
I haven't been regularly attending the centre with my daughter for most of this term. I've gone to a couple of meetings, and done a few other things, but really I've pulled back in a major way since going into hospital. So going this morning felt really scary.
I felt anxious being around so many people, especially because I'm not feeling very sociable, and I feel like I don't have much to add to conversation. And because there are so many questions about how we're doing and what we've been doing. Also, I feel ashamed that I'm not helping out as much as others are, at a time when our centre really needs it. It's hard to look people in the eye and talk to them when you know they're going through hard times too, but they're still managing to work hard to keep the centre going.
So this morning was very overwhelming. In fact, I very nearly didn't go. But I did. My daughter had miles of fun playing with the other children, and I was put on parent help duties as soon as I walked in the door. Still have to get some flecks of paint off my new jeans, lol.
We got home about half an hour ago, both of us exhausted. I put my girl to bed for her nap, and proceeded to start berating myself some more for all of the ways I'm letting down Playcentre and our small community. "Blah-blah is going through this and that and still managing to go to every session. Such and such has this problem, but she still bakes beautiful cakes and brings them in. Etc, etc"
But then it hit me. I went today, dammit! I participated. And although I haven't been going regularly of late, I still see myself as a member of that group. I still have people round for coffees and lend an ear to them when they're under the weather. I still made soup for our Winter Lantern Festival. I still collect collect up jars and share them out amongst our members who bottle preserves. All of those little things mean I still participate, and I'm still a part of the centre.
And that actually means something much bigger. It means I've worked hard to change a pretty deeply engrained negative behaviour of mine. Because not so long ago, if I had missed a few sessions of anything I was involved in, I would have been out that door, and they never would have seen me again. I would have avoided phone calls from people, I would have pretended I wasn't home when people knocked on the door, I would have hid from people in public. All because my social phobia creates elaborate reasoning's in my head as to why I should be so ashamed for "failing" at being a member of something, that I can never forgive myself.
So I haven't been going to sessions because I haven't felt up to it- too bad! I'm not a great conversationalist right now- tough! I need to catch up on paper work and other jobs for the centre- oh well! I'm not going to focus on that, or on punishing myself over it. I'm not going to punch myself in the face. I'm going to be proud, I'm going to pat myself on the back. Because, in my life, in my recovery process, I've achieved a great success!
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- ▼ June (12)
- Hi! I'm Maya and I'm here to blog about my life as a mother with mental health problems. I'm getting a lot out of reading the blogs of others and their experiences, so I'm giving sharing my own a go. I'm pretty approachable, so if you want to talk to me or ask me a question, go ahead :-)