Swapping a punch in the face for a pat on the back

Metaphorically.

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!

Depression and anxiety. A two-headed beast Mamamia

Depression and anxiety. A two-headed beast Mamamia

Just finished reading this post on Mamamia's site. Thought it was so good, I had to share.

The writer talks about realising they were depressed, and the experience of taking medication. 

Gripping onto positvity with all my power

I know my last post got pretty dark at the end there. I'm sorry if it was a bit too heavy for some of you, but I've promised myself to always tell the truth here, and those feelings were truthful.

But I refuse to give in to those dark thoughts without a fight.

My daughter is at preschool again today. She went yesterday too, so today is my last day to myself for the week. I got up with her this morning and gave her breakfast, and we watched kid's educational videos on You Tube together. She was in a mood for giving lots of hugs and kisses, and we giggled and played together.  Then I got her dressed. We picked out an adorable outfit together for her to wear. All purples, set off with a purple My Little Pony skirt. She was really excited because the motif on it had a horsey and a ducky and a star. She was full of sweetness and light this morning, and I almost didn't want her to go out the door for the day.

After she left, the house was silent. I thought about all the things I could do, should do, but by 8.40am I'd crawled back into bed for, "just a little more sleep". I didn't wake up again until 12.40pm.

Pangs of guilt. I've wasted so much of a perfectly good, sunny day. But I can't bully myself about it, because I know if I start beating myself up about that one thing, I will not be able to stop. I am merciless when it comes to finding fault with myself. I do not stop until I've scrutinised and reviled every corner of my very essence. Sometimes my body just can't take the mental beating I've given it, and I'll start vomiting. It's not bulimia, I don't want to make myself throw up. It's that I become so distraught and tense that my stomach reacts.

I need to remember that it's just the depression talking. It's like a demon in my head causing me to over-react to every little mistake. The depression fogs me up so badly, I can't see the bigger picture. It makes my world so small, but everything within it is magnified to the extreme.  

So I know that on days like this when I've made a mistake like wasting time sleeping, I need to be extra alert to those negative messages I send myself. I have to spend the rest of the day absolving myself by being as productive as I can. And every time one of those self hating thoughts come to mind, I have to do some pretty advanced mental gymnastics to jump on it before it takes hold. Because the self hatred over small mistakes is an over-reaction.

I started my day feeling so much love and happiness with my daughter. And it's her that I really need to keep those awful thoughts at bay for. She's going to come home from preschool tonight, all excited and  wanting to tell mummy all about it, and needs to find me ready to be focussed on her. So I must recognise what is the small stuff, and forgive myself for it- not for my sake, but because my daughter doesn't deserve her bubble of happiness to be popped by me and my unbalanced self discipline. 

Feeling flat as a pancake- why, why, why?

Gah! It's happening again today. Nothing terrible has happened - in fact things that could be seen as good have happened- but I feel rotten! I feel on the verge of tears, and I'm so drained.

Had the job interview this morning. I left an hour early to get their on time, but ended up 5 mins late because we got so lost. That set me off kilter a little, but honestly, I didn't get the impression they were overly worried. They had already told me on the phone the place was notoriously hard to find, so I think they were prepared to be slightly lenient.

I think over all I gave a good interview. I think I said all the right things. But now I'm beating myself up. I keep thinking about how much of a loser I am, and how if I get the job I'll just mess it up any way. And about how I won't fit in with all the 'normal' people with 'normal' personalities that work there.

I know- it's a bit self pity trip, right? But that's how I'm feeling. It's the self hating, self- doubting social phobia coming in. Now I've been to the interview the realities of getting out there and being in work environment seem so much more clear and frightening.

If I get this job, I'll be forced out of my safe little cocoon I've made for myself. Don't get me wrong- I hate being at home, alone with my child, with few friends, and too much time to dwell on things. I'm often bored, and feel like a waste of space.

But in saying that, there is a feeling of safety in it. I don't have to challenge myself to be in the company of others, or to be responsible for much other than the needs of my family.

If I go back to the work force, everything about me will be judged. My personality, my skills, my speed and efficiency- everything. What if they don't like me and think I'm weird. What if I'm 'that' person in the workplace, that no-one clicks with? What if I try my hardest, but still can't get the job right? It all seems so real, because I've felt that way in jobs before.

I'm really scared now. What if this job doesn't make things better- what if it makes everything worse? What if I am just a complete failure and waste of air?

Being at home, safe in my cocoon, at least I can deceive myself some of the time that I'm actually a worthwhile person. But paid work shines a light on people and shows them up for what they truly are- valuable, contributing members of society, or valueless scum.

And that brings me to my biggest fear at all. That I don't deserve to be alive. I know that seems like a dramatic leap to make- from not being good in a job to not deserving to live- but that's where my mind goes. Because I feel unemployable and unlike-able and weak, I feel like I don't earn my way in life. I'm lucky enough to live in a country with a welfare system that pays for people like me to have food, clothing and shelter when we are unable to get by on our own. But I feel like such a failure at life that I would never be able to get by on my own without that safety net to catch me each time I fall. I've been on and off government benefits my whole life. So really, if that false safety net wasn't there, I would have not had the money for the essentials of life. And because I feel like I'll never be a capable person, doesn't that mean I'm just draining my community. Wasting money that should go to people who will become productive, contributing members of society. How do I deserve to live?

Wow that got really dark. But that's how I truly feel, and I promised to always be honest on this blog. And I guess writing all this down quickly got me to the source of why I'm feeling so bad today.