Through the eyes of my child

I'm sitting there, watching my children play, in the front yard. I must of told them both a hundred times "put your hats on guys", "be careful with what you're doing", "slow down". Neither of them with a care in the world.  I sit there watching my 5 year old use a swing set, not the way in which it was intended.  "just swinging is for babies mum!" she proclaims to me as she climbs up the top of the A frame and hangs upside down, before finally finishes doing a back flip off the thing. Every dam time, my heart skips a beat. She's a wild child. Always has been. I constantly say to her father "how we have not ended up in the Emergency room with her and some broken bone, is totally beyond me!". I mean sure we've had scrapes and bruises etc but nothing too serious *touch wood*.  As I watch her doing her backwards mickey flips, and running down the slide - as opposed to just sliding down on her bum! I get to thinking. Wouldn't it be so awesome to live a day without fear. To be a total free spirit like a child. Not constantly thinking of the consequences. "what if" this or "what if" that. Just living in the now, doing flips off an A frame. She doesn't sit there analysing every little thing that could go wrong with what she's doing. She doesn't think to the future. She just *does* it.  Last week whilst performing one of her swing stunts, she fell face first into the dirt. Landed pretty awkwardly on her neck and grazed her nose. I was absolutely mortified. She of course was beside herself crying hysterically (more because I think she gave herself a bit of a fright). But after cuddles from mum and reassurance that she was fine, she dusted herself off and went straight back to those swings, doing her crazy acrobatics that she does.  For most people, they would find nothing interesting about this. But for someone who suffers from an Anxiety Disorder ... It's something to envy!  Anxiety feeds off instances like that. Someone suffering with anxiety would of fallen off that swing, and then for the foreseeable future avoided anywhere with swings and the possibility that the same thing could happen again!

Even though my Anxiety is the best it's been in a while - I still have the over thinking part that comes with it. Over analysing every situation. Trying to predict what *could* happen. It's a bloody hard habit to break! As any sufferer knows. But wouldn't it be fabulous just for one day to just get on that swing and hang up side down without even thinking twice?

Verbal Vomit

This is one of those times where I definitely need to blog to stop the noise in my head! Might even get some sleep rather than being awake all night pissed off about it!

So, past few weeks, mum has been getting a shit load of tests done.  We're now waiting for confirmation of whether or not she has Leukemia. It's shitty as hell.    While I love my mother, we have a long long history and at many times it has been very unpleasant between us.  We've put alot of that aside, in the past couple of years but she still really really bloody gets to me. And I let her just walk over me and annoy the hell out of me because frankly, I can't be bothered with the drama of confronting her AND she doesn't own her behaviour. So in the end I end up getting more upset because of it.  So why has it come to a head, now?

I've started my Diploma of Early Education and Care. I am sooo excited about it. Have been for weeks and was counting down the hours to when I could actually start on Monday! My sister was so supportive and just as excited I was. Which was just how she is! .... My mother on the other hand? Not.one.word.  She can't say she didn't know, because the woman is on facebook all the time, I can't even fart without her knowing and then ringing me straight away to ask me about something she's seen on facebook.  So I knew that she knew, but she didn't say a word! When she would call up, nothing.  But yet, my brother (the apple of mummy and daddy's eye. The baby. The angel) goes to college, and I hear ALLLL about how proud of him she is and how fucking fabulous he is. Blergh.     After about a week, she finally brings it up on the phone and this is how the conversation goes (I shit you not):

Her: So. You're studying
Me: Yes, I'm so excited about it. I started this week
Her: So it's childcare then?
Me: Um yeah it's a Diploma of Early Education and care
Her: Oh. So it's childcare. And you're doing it to be a better mother?
Me: Um.... no? I'm doing it so I can work. It's not just childcare- I can work in child services, be a director of a child care centre.
Her: Oh, I figured you were just doing it to be a better mother, cause you're always complaining about what a hard time the girls give you. The course will help you with that, yeah?
Me: Uh, yeah I guess so? (meanwhile I'm thinking, who the fuck are you to talk about being a better mother when your track record is very long and very sordid)
Her: Oh no not a director.. that's alot of study
Me: Um, no mum that's the course I am doing. It's 3 years.
Her: Oh yeah but being a director is hard. You should just do the childcare bit.

Wow. Thanks for that vote of fucking confidence. I get it. Aim low.  

What upsets me the most is all I ever want from mum and him (my father, who hasn't spoken to me since Christmas) is their support and love and for them to tell me they're proud of me. How bloody hard is that?! You're my parents FFS!  But I never ever get it. And for the life of me, I can't understand why I still let it affect me. Why do I keep expecting anything different? Like I keep waiting for just once they would say they are proud of me. What more do I need to do? I own my own house, I have two children, I'm in a long term relationship, I'm studying, I'm a good person.  Why do I still let it get to me. I shouldn't care whether or not I get their acceptance.  And if it was anyone else, I wouldn't. But it's my parents. And after ALL the bullshit they have put me through, you would think they might just be parents for once.  And I want to say all this to my mother but now she's going through all this testing and shit. I can't.  And tbh, I have said stuff like this before and she manipulates it to make me feel shit for saying. So there's no point. Maybe it's just going to be something that comes with age? I dunno.

Ramblings ....

Yep, it's been a while between posts. You know the drill, life gets in the way- blogging sometimes takes a back seat. Although, I do like to hope that maybe this year I will try to do it more. Even if no one reads it, I think it will be good for me to get my thoughts out.

I had all these plans today, of what I would write about when I sat down tonight.  My weightloss journey, the fact I start my study this week, moving back to Brisbane. All of which, have of course, been marred by the passing of one of the most well known women in Australia, Miss Charlotte Dawson.  I don't even know where to begin to be perfectly honest. I don't know what is more sad. The fact her depression got to the point where she felt no other option but to take her life, or that she had these disgusting *trolls* online, telling her to do it, who lets face it, probably wouldn't even care that she did actually do it.

It did get me thinking though, about people's views on things like suicide and mental illness.  And how opinions vary and change.  Today while I sipped on my coffee staring blankly out into the backyard, watching the rain, I remembered how there was a time in my life when I was quite young (probably 14 or 15) where I didn't seem to have my own opinion. My opinion was basically anything that my parents said. Their opinion was what I thought. I guess, kids are sponges right?  I had all these views about things I had really no idea about. My father is probably one of the most bigoted human beings around. So alot of his views were drilled into me. He's always been very vocal of his views. And the minute you disagreed with them, you were a stupid c*** (sad to say, things have not changed in this instance - and as a result we have not spoken in months).  So in my young mind I couldn't wrap my head why anyone would ever commit suicide. Why they would be so selfish- and hurt everyone around them.

Turns out, leaving home at 17 would of been the best thing that could ever happen to me. I finally learnt the words empathy and compassion.  Growing up and dealing with my sexual abuse and other delightful facets of my life, I began to self medicate with drugs and alcohol. To me, that was what worked. I was fine! I didn't ever let my problems get to me. Lots of people have bad things happen to them and just move on. Right?  How wrong was I.  The moment I was first diagnosed with Anxiety and Depression- I knew. I knew why people got to the point where they couldn't go on.  I learnt why people cut themselves, not to end it, but just to be able to *feel* something other than the thoughts inside their heads. I was one of the *lucky* ones (and i use that term so very loosely. For lack of a better word) I clawed my way back. I worked dam fucking hard to get my way back from a very dark and scary place.

I know that there, sadly will be people like my father, out there today who don't give a fuck about Charlotte Dawson, her struggles or her decision to end her own life.  There will be those that say she is a coward for what she has done. I don't doubt that.  Although I obviously didn't know her personally, I know that out of her death there will be something positive to come. We hear of children/teenagers all the time ending their lives because of the struggles of life or the horrible trolls that we come across daily but now it's someone out in the public eye. An adult. Who had the world at her feet. I know that out of this, people will stand up and say enough is enough. Enough Stigma about mental illness. Enough calling people horrible names. Enough fucking bullying. And more than just ONE day a year where we say to the people we know and love, R U OK?  People of the world- stop being so god dam rude to one another.

Standing on the outside

Knees shaking, Legs weak, stomach churning. Mind racing. Thoughts, so many thoughts throwing themselves at me. “Turn back now. Stop. Just stop. You can't do this. Something bad is going to happen”. My inner demon, telling me, shouting at me. You can't do this. Welcome to the world of Anxiety. The devil on my back. The black dog that sits firmly on my chest. For so many years, this has been my life. My reality. But now here I am. Fighting back and standing up. Saying NO! To the voice, no to the knees that shake, the legs that go weak and no to the stomach that churns. Have I fully silenced it? No. But it is a hell of a lot quieter, getting quieter everyday. And even when it becomes a distant whisper, I will continue to fight.

I think back to when my Anxiety first started. Or try to pinpoint its birth in my life. There are so many different times in my life where it could of started. Maybe it started before I recognised the signs. Like a tiny scab that I had ignored for so long just festering away. Getting bigger and bigger until I could ignore it no longer. Was it the negativity that I was surrounded by at home? Was it the sexual abuse that I suffered at the hands of a family friend, as a child? Was it the feeling of having to be strong for so long that there just came a day where my soul said enough is enough- stop pretending? One of the traits of my personality is that I constantly want to know why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this? But after a lot of soul searching and hard work I have changed it from why me? To what lesson can I learn from this experience. What did I need to learn. I held in so much anger and hate and hurt, for so long. I spent my teenage years so angry at the world. Angry at my parents. Angry at well, everything. I spent my time telling people I didn't care what other people thought of me. I didn't care about other people. I just went on with my life, doing what I wanted, when I wanted and if people didn't like it, then stiff, pretty much. I was, during that time, the example of everything I loathe in a person. But then I guess it was easier than having to deal with my emotions, wasn't it.

Even before I started my counselling I spent my time helping other people solve their problems to avoid having to really take a hard look at my own. I would become so invested in my friends problems that I would almost take it personally. I wouldn't sleep, I wouldn't eat, I would constantly worry. It took a rather large breakdown for me to realise that once again, I was avoiding what needed to be done. So here I am. 3 months into my therapy. Never in a million years would I have imagined I would be where I am now in a matter of 3 months. I've gone from literally not being able to leave my home to do something simple like get milk, Not be able to interact happily with my children, because I was so caught up in my own thinking to just pushing through, every day. Taking my daughter to and from school everyday (and even more recently, walking her) , going shopping, making new friends and spending time with them. The things I have done recently are endless. I saw my therapist today and my words to her were “I am a fucking rockstar”. And I am. I haven't really sat back and felt good about the things I have done. The work that I have done. There have been so many times where I have wanted to just crawl back under my rock. Avoid it a little longer. Someone else will do it, right?

When in 27 years has 'someone else' done it? I have always done it on my own. I suffered through my own turmoil without anyone else being there to help me. I hated the world in silence. No one else knew. Do I regret this? NO. Because it has made me who I am and given me the tools and taught me the lessons that I needed to know. So yes, I can bury my head under the rock and ignore it all and go back to not leaving the house. Not going anywhere. Being miserable. Or I can keep pushing through and getting better and stronger everyday. I am a good person. I know that. I am not the angry world hating teenager I once was. I have grown and evolved. I am loving, I am passionate, I have compassion, I have empathy. I love fiercely and deeply. Can I have a short fuse? Yes, that is something that takes some practice. But everyday I practice my mindfulness and strive to feel positive and happy. As I drop the negativity from my life, I notice so many changes. Spiritually and mentally. I feel such a huge change in my life and how I look at the world. And all I know is I can't surround myself around constantly negative people. I have worked too hard. I have to let the guilt of leaving people behind, go. This is my journey and I deserve to feel proud of myself and deserve appreciate the hard work that I have achieved. With no one elses help. I've done this. And i'll keep doing it. Nothing will stop me now. 

Parent trap

So the second blog post for the day is about yep, you guessed it. Parenting! Sort of.

At my last therapy session with 'R' we spoke about me needing to stop judging myself based on other people and what they do.  So judging my parenting because the lady down the road does it better (for whatever reason be it she has more kids than me, or studies or just looks like she 'has it all together' - whatever 'having it all together' looks like).

I spend my time wishing I was the "perfect" housewife and mother.  After talking to 'R' about this she made me see that I continue to wish these things because I compare them to someone else. I flutter between wanting to be a better mother than my mother and trying to "beat" her and wanting to be just as good as all these other mothers that I know/see.  So my job, from 'R', was to come home and write a list. Of what I think the perfect  mother and housewife is.  So at the end of the day the only standards that I have to compare to are MY OWN.  As long as I stick to my own values then no one else's parenting is anything to do with me personally.  So after thinking about it all weekend. I've got my top 5 things that mean being a good mother to ME and my top 5 things that mean being a good wife/partner to ME.

Being a good mother to me means:

1.  Loving your child unconditionally.
2. Always having time for your child. No matter what it is you're doing. 
3. Always putting your children's well being and needs before anything. 
4. Always try to teach your children as much as possible, even if it means having to learn it yourself first. Be interested in things that they are interested in. 
5. Always ALWAYS make sure you tell them how proud of them you are and how much you love them. 

Being a good wife to me means:

1. Loving your partner unconditionally ( and I totally mean in a loving healthy relationship ) 
2. Listening to your partner and their needs 
3. Being gentle with your words- even in an angry mood/when fighting.  ( I grew up in a household where it was seen as ok to call each other C**** and Arseholes and bitches etc. I don't want that for my relationship) 
4. Making time to do things that your partner is interested in and vice versa. Even if it's not something that really grabs your fancy. 
5. Never going to sleep angry and telling your partner just how much you love them every.single.day. Not only how much you love them, but how much you appreciate them.  

As long as I can look at both my lists and be happy knowing that, that is how I live my life. Then there is never a need to feel insecure. Because going by my lists of being a good mother and a good partner, then I am content. I am happy.   I am the best version of Me. And you can't get any better than that.

Cross Stitching

So this will be post 1 of my 2 blog post day.  I wanted to do two separate ones, otherwise it would of just been one huge mammoth one lol  

So I have been seeing my Psychologist, 'R' for a few weeks.  She's amazing!  I feel so blessed to have found someone who 'gets' me and who is into the sorts of things that I am into spiritually.  Its nice to have someone to just sit there and listen. And actually listen- not just fain interest whilst thinking about their own stuff.  But after the couple of sessions that I have had with her, I know that I have a crapload of self esteem issues. Which is just the root of all if not of my problems.  I judge myself based on other people constantly. 'Im not a good mother because I don't do what that person over there does' or 'why can't I have a figure like her'. The list goes on really.

In my last session I said to 'R' that I felt like a complete sack of crap taking miss 4 to her first week of school.  While waiting for Miss 4 to come out of class, I stood there amongst all the other mothers.  I noticed  how they looked nice with their makeup and hair done.  They all stood around talking and laughing and looked happy and secure with themselves. And there here was me. This loser. Who stood there looking like shit, no makeup, pimples on her face (that time of the month, fun fun eh'), hair with regrowth- not been cut in goodness knows how long, the list goes on. I *felt* like I looked like utter crap compared to these mothers. Picking miss 4 up that day (and pretty much everyday seeing these mothers) made me feel so deflated.  Down on myself. Not worthy etc etc.  Then 'R' said the best thing that anyone has ever said to me. 'Have you ever seen someone do cross stitching?' ... 'Um, yeah?'...'Well, you know how the pictures on that circle look sooo beautiful. So intricate and perfect. All the details are just perfect?" .... 'Um, yeah?' * I was at this point thinking, wtf are we talking about Cross Stitching for?* ... 'Well have you ever seen the back of one of those cross stitches?' .... *I think about it*....'yes'.....'Well what does it look like?' ...'A mess'.....' Yes, a complete mess. There's shit everywhere isn't there? so next time you think that about yourself when you see these women, or other women that make you feel like that, picture them holding up a cross stitch pattern. Cause while it looks pretty and perfect to you,  the bit facing them is messy as shit'.   Seriously made so much sense.  Not only that but she also pointed out to me when I said 'I want to be one of those women that gets up and wears makeup and has her hair done all nice and looks nice'.  'You want to have to put make up on everyday, just for a 10 minute job? The reason those women coat their faces with makeup for a school drop off is because they're insecure themselves'.  So much put in perspective these past few weeks. Something simply explained by 'R' and I see how the way I think and feel can have such a negative impact on me.  I can spend the rest of my life comparing myself to other people and it won't get me anywhere.  I need to give myself a break and stop being so judgemental to MYSELF.  I am a good person!  I am loved.  And my happiness or self esteem doesn't need to rely on anyone else's validation or acceptance. I am me. And the me that I am becoming, well she is pretty bloody awesome.

Baby Steps....

Over the past few weeks, little by little, I find the old me slowly clawing her way back in.  My passion, my drive, my aspirations and desires.  The fighter that I once had in me, is banging loudly on the door and she wants to be let in.

One of the most confronting moments for me this week was doing my mental health plan.  Something I have struggled for so long to get the courage (and I guess urge or care) enough to do.  Seeing the words in black and white on the screen "Childhood Abuse" was probably one of the most confronting parts.  Seeing my doctor sit and stare at me with such sadness and sympathy in her eyes was strange.  I guess for a long long time I never let my past be a "problem" I had this bravado that it was what it was, it was shit, I went through crap but now I was fine. We all have to go through stuff and come out the other end fine, right?  But seeing other peoples reactions and hearing other people say "Hey, that's not ok", makes me realise that it is in fact, not ok. Which sounds stupid but when you live in the same cycle of abuse and have the same mentality for so long it seems "normal".   As well as the most confronting of moments though, it was also one of the most freeing moments.  Meeting my new Psychologist was also like a weight had just been lifted off my shoulders. Since starting this journey of coming down off my medication and seeking help and pushing myself and pushing through otherwise no-go-zone barriers, I just feel myself thinking more and realising more. Good things. Realisations.  Like a whole bunch of light bulb moments going off at once.   Another one was tonight when I was given a link to something so I could read.  There was quite a few moments in this article/book where I smiled and nodded because I knew exactly what it meant.  So I decided to blog about it so I can come back later when I need to remember it. Its called 'A beautiful mess' (www.abeautifulmessinside.com) and it just hit home on so many different levels for me.

                   "She looked at life through her lens and learned to love the mess" 

                                                                     *********

"When you feel broken, you may

just need to let things fall in to

pieces for a bit. We’re taught to

hold it together - to stay in

control. If you hold on too

tightly to the broken bits, you

end up cutting your own hands.

On the other side of breakdown

lies breakthrough."

*********

"When we were children our lives depended on someone else taking care of us. Today
we may feel very alone, unloved, and unworthy. Sure we know better, but in our worst
moments a nagging doubt is there. We may blame others for not caring enough or not
doing it right. The problem is, while others can be loving and caring toward you, only
you can take care of the little girl inside. This usually means learning to ask for help and
making better decisions. Sometimes I feel like I have to pry the mini-mess’s hands off
the steering wheel. She is relentless. She doesn’t like my interference. A'er all, she
drove the bus all by herself for many years."

This quote here was probably the biggest 'ah-ha' moment for me.  'When we were children our lives depended on someone else taking care of us'.  I think for me, physically yes my parents 'took care' of me.  Fed me, clothed me, sheltered me. Emotionally, mentally, though? No. Not at all. If anything it was the other way around.  For a very long time I have shoved away that little girl inside. The little girl who suffered abuse and continued to look after everybody else by not saying anything, so they wouldn't have to feel upset or stressed.  Or the little girl who would look after her mother when she drank too much. Or the little girl who would play mediator to her parents when they fought and broke up and one went and lived in a caravan park, or downstairs in a spare room.   I have never been able to ask for help. I did it on my own for so long. I kept my mouth shut and my feelings to myself for so long. That now, I think getting to the stage where I have with my anxiety it has forced me to stand up and say "I am NOT doing ok. I need help" and to not be ashamed by it.  I need to nurture the little girl inside me.  And love her and care for her.  

"Think of it like this, if you wouldn’t say it to your best friend, you’re not allowed to say

it to yourself. Beating yourself up and being harder on you than others doesn’t work. If

it did, you wouldn’t be reading this. Being gentle with yourself doesn’t mean letting

yourself off the hook to run wild. If change is going to come, you’re going to have to be

the one to do it. You can, however, do it with loving kindness towards yourself (and

others.)

I think of it like I am a foster parent to the mini-mess. She really didn’t want to be

“removed” from her world. She doesn’t trust me or even like me one bit. Finding the

balance between firm and gentle can be a real challenge. I can only earn her trust with

consistency."

Often I have thought about this.  I am always the first person there to help anyone with a problem. I'll listen for hours on end to someone tell me their troubles and help out best I can.  And there is no way I would ever say the things to a close friend/family member, that I do to myself.  I would never call them a failure or be angry at them or judge them or make them feel anymore useless then they probably already do.  So why would I do it to myself?  I need to remind myself that I am worthy of the love and gentleness and good advice.  And the forgiveness when I fall off the wagon and have a bad day.  

I have always said that if someone offered me a million dollars to change my history, I would never do it.  Because it has made me who I am. I have 'No Regrets' tattooed on my wrist for that reason.  

Not the flashiest or the fanciest of tattoo's but its something that has alot of meaning to me

To constantly remind me that it has made me the person I am. And given me the values that I have.  That's not to say that it hasn't hurt or affected me.  Or that I have fully dealt with it.  I need to find a balance of appreciating it as a lesson and healing from it.  Rather than shoving it down into a tiny box.  I've learnt that sooner or later the universe will make you deal with it.  And I have to say, I'm not entirely sorry that it has.  Its liberating. Freeing.  I'm learning to love myself, flaws and all. And it feels good.  Bit by bit I will build up my self esteem which so very long has been shattered.