The Day has arrived

I am so freaking nervous about today. Today is the day that my treatment really begins, medication aside, psychological assistance is what is really going to help me.
This morning, it's off to the GP to create a Mental Health Care Plan. This afternoon, my first psychologist appointment.

It's not the first time I've been through this, but I'm coming from a blacker place this time and there is so much more at stake. I need to conquer this for the sake of my Little Miss.


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Rock Bottom

The last two days have been two of the hardest ever.

On the way home from the shops yesterday, as I attempted to stop Penny from chewing her new shoes and grew increasingly frustrated, I started to fight back tears. When I got home, I walked into the kitchen to get a bottle ready for her. Instead of doing that, I slid to the floor and started sobbing. Huge tears fell from my eyes and horrible dark thoughts flooded my brain. I contemplated asking a friend to come and take Penny for a couple of hours so that I could have a break, but decided against it. I needed her here to save me. To remind me why I need to be here.

 

I filled my night with distractions and fell into bed completely exhausted.

When I woke up this morning, I knew that I couldn't wait another day to speak to a professional {I had already decided that I would see my GP on Monday}. I tried calling friends, but to no avail. Then I received a Facebook message from a friend I had plans to catch up with, and in a state of desperation I asked for help.

She came over, the tears began to flow again, and I somehow kept it together enough to get us ready and off we went to hospital.

As we did laps around the hospital trying to find the carpark, I started to wonder if I should bother speaking to someone today, or if I should just wait to see my GP. I didn't speak up though. I knew I had to do it.

We walked into the Emergency Department and I felt so foolish. I stopped and started to cry again. Wondering why I was there, what I was supposed to say, and if they'd bother to help. My friend spoke to Reception for me, and luckily the wait wasn't too long. It was damn hard though.

Speaking to the Triage nurse, once again I wondered if they'd bother to help. As I sat and waited again, this time for the doctor, I tried to find some sense of normality. Again, the wait wasn't too long, and off I went to speak to the doctor.

I don't know how I'm not completely dehydrated with the amount of tears I have shed lately. As soon as the GP started talking to me, I sobbed. She asked confronting, but necessary, questions and I was ashamed of the answers I gave. Honest as they were, it was hard to admit that to someone.

Fortunately she was a really lovely doctor. Looking at my symptoms and my past history of depression, she advised that I am very high risk for Post Natal Depression (PND). I knew the 'D' word would be said. I'd tried to fight it, but it was useless. Depression has been a part of my life on and off for close to 10 years now. 

The plan of attack from here is for me to see my GP {who fortunately specialises in mental health} and have a long chat to her. From there, it'll be back onto anti-depressants, and an assessement to begin a Mental Health Plan and see a psychologist.

It's going to be a long, hard journey. I know that. I have to do it though. I have to find the strength. For Penny.

I know I can do this. I know I can fight. I'm sick of fighting to get somewhere, but with the right help, I know I can do it. I can conquer this. 

I accept that depression is a medical condition that will be a part of my life for many years to come. I just need to treat it, rather than try and deal with it on my own. 

My daughter is my world. I will do this for her. And in turn, for me.

Growing Up

I'm certain my Little Miss gets more independent as each day passes. I remember how it felt like she'd grown up so much when she started holding her own bottle, and at the time, I liked being able to leave her to it but now, admittedly, I do miss the cuddles I'd get while feeding her.

She barely notices me leave when I do daycare dropoff, 'Sure mumma, whatever, I'm just going to hang out with my friends'. Then yesterday, she decided she wanted to grow up just that little more. As I held her in one arm and her backpack in the other, she grabbed for her backpack. Her carer and I laughed that perhaps she wanted to wear it, so I put it on her and the look of pride on her face was priceless! She delighted in wearing her backpack, sitting on the bench at the bus stop and then on the bus, I decided to see how she'd go sitting beside me rather than on my lap. Best idea ever! No wriggle bot on my lap, just a big girl snuggled into my side {still wearing her backpack} who actually nodded off during the trip. Bless.

Confession

My last post was all about acceptance, and it's true, I do accept who I am and I'm happy with who I am. Days like today, however, it's a struggle.

While I value my time to myself {a lot more these days than I ever used to, probably because it's so rare} I don't handle loneliness well.

I live in a city. I have friends who live in the same city. Yet I feel like I'm trapped in a bubble of isolation and that my only communication with them is via social networking or email.

I feel like this ongoing struggle is a battle of me vs. the world, as I fight to get what my daughter and I deserve, and my strength is waning.

Sure, I have great days. Positive days where I won't let anything get me down, but then the high goes and I'm left feeling low and like I want to give up. I won't give up, I can't give up, but I hate feeling like I'm the only one pulling me back up.

Not being the type of person who will ask for help until it's almost too late, it makes it so hard being so alone. Having no partner in crime, someone to bounce ideas off, someone to cry to, to vent to, to just be with.

The other night, the idea popped into my head that maybe I should move and try for a fresh start. After all, the only thing keeping me in the city I'm in at the moment is my job. Big whoop. But fcuk it hurts that that's my only reason for being somewhere. 

I feel lost. Like nowhere is 'home'. My options would be to stay where I am and keep fighting, move interstate and try for a fresh start, or admit defeat for a while and go back and stay with dad.

Yesterday, I decided that the best option would be to just stay where I am, keep fighting, then reassess at the end of the year. I was confident in that decision. Now? I ust don't know. How do I know that things will improve? How do I know that I have the strength to just give it a go? I know I can make it work, I've somehow made things work so far, right? But why can't that be enough to make me confident to do it?

I confess: I'm lost, I'm lonely, and I need help.