Monday, 26 January 2015

Measuring Up

Yesterday, another breakdown. This despite the Australia Day decorations the night shift put up... I think that one was triggered by having a husband who is so incredible with BabyF; I just can't measure up.

So that's where I started and in no time I had zero self confidence and was going a bit mad. I couldn't stop crying, didn't want anyone to look at me or see me in all my hideousness. Same old. Ugly, useless, can't cope, worthless, F & K would be better off without me. Guilt for what I'm putting them through, pity for them and for me, wishing I could be a better mother and wife, wishing I could feel like a mother and wife, wishing I wasn't a burden. 

I hate myself. Inside and out. I can't look in the mirror. I wonder what of this I'll pass onto my perfect baby. I want to teach her to love herself - do I need to learn this before I can teach it? Fuck. 

I feel desperate and on edge and so very sad. I have no idea how I'll cope in the real world, I also have no idea when I'll rejoin the real world. Cath is leaving the unit today even though she's still having panic attacks. What if I'm not ready to leave when they think I am?

They're reviewing my medication today and maybe they'll let me know when BabyF can start rooming in with me. Not sure how I'll cope with the night feeds being so doped up, but I guess we'll find out. Milk everywhere except inside the baby I imagine.

Mel and I just went for a walk to the supermarket - no incidents despite the potential for comedy (two mental patients walk into a shop...). It's hot out, 40 degrees, hotter still with BabyF wrapped to my chest. That's the first time I've been out unsupervised and it was anticlimactic. I thought I might have a bit of a wobble because of the wobble I had in group therapy earlier, but no. 

Lots of wobbles. You're probably sick of hearing about them - I know I'm sick of experiencing them. 

Right now I'm trying to get my party-all-day-party-all-night baby to go down for a nap. The constant battle is exhausting and I'm drained. She's getting easier, slowly, slowly. Some naps she goes straight to sleep, some nights it takes less than 20 minutes to get her to sleep. Other naps are a 45 minute battle (at which point you have to ask yourself why the fuck you're bothering), and other nights it can take upwards of 2 hours to settle her. 

And BREATHE. At some stage she will sleep and I will sleep and we will be in sync and we will have wonderful days during which I will not cry or wobble and she will not resist sleep or comfort.

At least she finds comfort in my arms. I should hold on to that.

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