A Prayer

Trigger Warning. Self Harm and Suicide


Thank God for a family, who are there when I fall,
who move heaven and earth at my un-cried out call.
Who will drive through the night, just to be by my side,
when the dark gets to great and I cant bear the ride.

Thank God for a Father who will let down his walls,
and send reinforcements, the moment they're called.
And a Mother who senses a fall from afar,
and will travel o'er mountains to be where you are.

Thank god for a Sister who laughs, jokes and smiles,
who has never once judged and will go extra miles,
who just lets me be, but wont let me fall deep,
deeper than from where I think I can creep.

Thank God for a Sister who prays far away,
who checks on me secretly to see I'm OK.
And the Brother who silently looks on and fears,
although he cant get here, I know that he cares.

Thank God for a Lover who knows it's not me,
when I'm screaming, and crying and not wanting to be.
When I'm scratching my skin, in a bid to ease pain,
and when blood flows I'm pleading 'God take my insane.'

Thank God for my Baby who as yet doesn't know,
that her Mummy is suffering from yet one more blow.
But no matter how hard, when I fall and I ache,
I know I wont leave her, I know I can't break.

When the pills start to beckon, and the thoughts get so black,
that I beg for oblivion and can't claw my way back.
When I plead with my Husband to commit me, admit me,
that's when I fear, of my Babe, I'm not worthy.

Please God, protect her, from that which I hide,
From her cherubic face and her innocent eyes.
Don't let her suffer the way that I have,
grant her peace from this darkness,
Let her live, love and thrive.

http://portaldivinaluz.blogspot.co.nz/2012_08_01_archive.html

Discovering Bipolar II

It's official.

I have bipolar II disorder.

Looking back, I am surprised it wasn't made official sooner. It's been bandied about by almost every single professional I've sought help with for the last 14 years. Plus, there is this gem I wrote way back in February.

"It's been a week now since I had to accept yet again, that MG was back with a vengeance. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming, all the signs were there. I went through a crazy super productive couple of weeks, decided to put on another show, started a new book, updated a website, started a new website, relaunched my business, spent a lot of money, got a lot of refunds equally as fast, told mothers and babies that I wanted to be discharged, that I was fine and coping great, was so amped up that I stopped sleeping and then BAM, MG hit me with a sledge hammer and said 'hell no! This stops here, EVERYTHING stops here."

I have to admit, it makes everything about me finally make sense. All my amazing projects which keep me up for nights on end, unable to sleep for thinking and doing, and then just as rapidly, throw them aside. The great ideas I get which send excitement pulsing through my veins, which make me rush to get other people involved, which steal all of my attention for days at a time, and frequently empty my bank account in the process. The periods of extreme irritation which feel like ants crawling over my skin and often come from nowhere, only to destroy whoever is closest at the time. The rage attacks which bring a curtain of red across my eyes and make my body feel like it's about to explode (some of them documented for all to see in this blog). The rapid mood cycles and the intense up and downs. The so called recurrent depression. The labels that are so often applied to me such as 'moody', 'impulsive', 'grumpy', 'over achiever', 'weird'. Sure, I am definitely all of those things, and I definitely do all of those things, but now I know, that it's not just because I am a horrible person. 

I have spent the last week trying to get my head around it, writing secret blog posts that I was too scared to share because the stigma associated with a label like bipolar is so much greater than the stigma's associated with depression and anxiety. Every other person has those. They have public awareness campaigns about them on TV. There are posters all around our earthquake broken city asking 'Are You Alright?'

Depression. Yes. Anxiety Disorder. OK. But Bipolar Disorder?

I am relieved because for the first time I feel there may actually be a light at the end of this very long tunnel. I am relived because for the first time since I first entered the mental health service at the age of 15, I actually believe this may be the final diagnosis. I am relieved because with a label, comes knowledge. With a label, isolation disappears. With a label, I can finally be treated properly.

But at the same time I am scared. Will this label make people look at me differently? Will this label mean other parents be afraid to have their children come and play with my children? Will my children be affected by this label too? What happens if I get too sick to look after my children? What if I do something terrible and someone takes them away from me? What if....

http://www.fibrohaven.com/wp-content/uploads/Seasons_Change.jpg

Bringing down the Curtain

It finally happened.

A meltdown on par with the 'the great crash of 2007'.

With my own godsent mum here, I was able to hold it together for a week. I was able to sleep in the afternoons, and when I couldn't face another round of 'try to feed the baby' or 'baby seems tired, lets try to put her to bed", my mum was able to take over and happily at that.

I made it through for four whole days, and then, after I waved goodbye at the airport. Things fell apart at a great rate of knots.
By the time I got home, tears were prevalent. I had managed to stop myself from deliberately crashing the car in to the median barrier. I had managed to safely carry my daughter inside and gently put her on the mat rather than dashing her onto the ground in the driveway. I considered these a success.

Over the course of the next two hours I spiralled up and down so fast that I didn't know what had hit me. I decided to stay home and relax and stay calm, but Bean wasn't cooperating with that plan and so I put us in the car again and drove across town to our mothers matter support group. By the time I got there, tears were only one 'are you ok' away. There were a number of Phone-calls from a number of phones, to a number of different numbers in the C ward at Princess Margaret Hospital and half an hour later I was sitting in my counsellors office.

I was unsure how I'd managed to drive myself here and was trying to recall the last time I'd eaten. Bean was playing with some brightly coloured giant keys on the floor, and I was trying very hard to concentrate as Tracy (my counsellor/registrar) asked me what I needed right now. What did we need to make happen?

I looked up at her, dazed, a headache playing behind my eyes. "Sleep." Wasn't it obvious?
"If we can get you to sleep, will that be enough?"
I shook my head thinking over and over 'give me somewhere different to sleep, please put me in a hospital, I need time away from baby'. But I couldn't say it. The thought made me sick.

What kind of mother am I, who needs time away from her own child. What kind of mother begs to be put into a hospital so that they can sleep uninterrupted?

Suddenly there were two therapists in the room, they were talking about respite options, one involving in house help, the other involving inpatient stays with your baby, and respite houses without. The respite house sounded like heaven. But still, when they asked me which one did I think I needed, I couldn't bring myself to say it. I couldn't bring myself to admit that I, Mum, needed time away from my child. 

Finally, the therapists decided for me. I would go to respite for the night. Husband would have to come home early and take tomorrow off to look after the Bean. I was so relieved at the idea, and sickened by my own reaction at the same time.

Unfortunately, as luck would have it, there were no free beds in any respite houses or inpatient wards anywhere in christchurch. I would have to stay at home, or preferably, at a friends house. But I couldn't think of a single friend to ask. I have friends. But not a lot of friends with kids. Or friends with spare rooms. Or friends I wanted to ask.

So I went home. I don't remember anything about that drive except that I was driving rather slowly, because I was scared of doing something stupid. When I got home to my Husband, I instantly burst into tears again and couldn't stop apologising for being such a pain to everyone. Other mums hold it together, so why am I not coping??

That night, Husband slept in Baby Beans room. I slept in our room with the door closed, ear plugs in, and a message to not get up for 24 hours or more. I took 1 tiny blue zopiclone pill, but one hour later I was still awake, so, as prescribed, I took a second. I was still awake 40 minutes later and too scared to take another one so I found a sleep hypnosis app, and after listening to it twice (yes twice), I finally fell asleep.

I slept till 4am, and had to repeat the whole process again in order to get back to sleep.

Today, I am drifting in and out of a sleep state. I do feel better, but I know also that if I were to get up and pretend everything was fine right now, I don't know if I would actually survive the next few days.

I'm sure things will get better soon. I'm sure that I will figure out what's really going on and be able to finally manage it properly. I want to show my baby how much I love her, but clearly, that is not an option right now, as what I need is just to sleep. sleep. sleep. sleep.

A History of Mental Illness

In light of recent events, both in my personal life and on an international level, I think it's time we thought about this issue again.

My problem is, the way people, and media, just throw around the term 'mental illness.

For instance,
"...a young women, who has a history of mental illness..."
"...the killer has a history of severe mental illness..."
"...today a man with a history of mental illness attacked...
"...the alleged killer has a history of mental illness..."
"...the accused has a history of mental illness..."

If you think that's ok, then just replace mental with the word 'physical' and you'll see how ridiculous it is.

The term 'mental illness' cannot continue to be used as a cover all for every single type of mental illness out there. And it certainly cannot be used to 'explain' away people's behaviour, so that everyone just nods their head and thinks 'oh, they have a mental illness, well that explains it then.'

Just like physical health includes everything from headaches, to cancer, to the flu and hepatitis or polio, malaria or a simple cold, the term mental health covers everything from mild depression and substance abuse, to aspergers syndrome, ADHD, dementia and schizophrenia, with just as many variables in between.


This brilliant image popped up on my facebook timeline today.

What I want to know, is when the media will start actually taking notice of this, and start differentiating between them. For instance, "..a man with a history of mental illness, has been accused of assaulting a care giver...' would seem a lot less insidious, if the public were aware that this man had a history of Dissociative Identity Disorder, and had stopped taking the medications which were helping him, because a close family member had criticised him for being on 'crazy pills'.

By the same reasoning, the headline '... a mother with a history of mental illness is in custody after being charged with neglecting her child...' would make the general public more aware of the seriousness of the situation, if they were allowed to know that she was in fact, suffering from suffer Post Partum Depression, yet had been too ashamed to ask for help for fear of being labeled 'crazy' by those around her. 

But I guess that neither of those truths makes for a very exciting news story.

I'm not saying that there aren't some very mentally disturbed people out there who are legitimately dangerous, there most definitely are. But by simplifying it as simply 'mental illness', the majority of us who suffer a mental illness which is doing no one any harm but us, continue to feel as though we must live in hiding, not reveal our full selves, not ask for help, not take the medication that could save us. 

By continuing to lump every mental illness under one umbrella, the media is simply exacerbating the stigma that all people who suffer ANY type of mental illness still have to deal with on a day to day basis. 

I take daily medication to keep my depression away and my anxiety at a manageable level. I am a pretty normal person. I love to sing, I am a school teacher, I hate early mornings, I have a family and  kid on the way. But I know that if I were to end up on the news for any reason, I too, would be labeled as having a history of mental illness.

But there is so much more to me than that.

“I pledge my commitment to the Blog for Mental Health 2014 Project. I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.”

Behind the Happy Curtain

Dear MG,

We meet again. I admit, this time you've got me good. But don't feel too smug, I always come out on top.

You see, MG, I've called in reinforcements and my Mum is coming to stay. She's my secret weapon, and it took a lot for me to bring her into this fray. But you've really managed to get a handle on my thoughts this time round. I'm starting to doubt your existence. I'm starting to wonder if perhaps I am just an attention seeker who is selfishly making everyone else's lives miserable in trying to get it.

I ask for help like I think I'm supposed to, like I'm told to, but I do it reluctantly because I can't help thinking that I am some kind of failure. I can't help but believe that all I'm doing when I ask for back up, is making the receiving party's life infinitely harder, and that I'm being incredibly selfish and perhaps, just overreacting to your renewed attack.

Or worse, perhaps I'm using you as an excuse to be a bitch. Perhaps I'm using you as a reason to explain why I'm miserable, antisocial and lazy. I don't even want to post this letter, MG. Because I'm scared of how it will look. I'm anxious of what people will say. I'm anxious they will look at me differently.

But then I get confused, isn't that the point of this blog? Didn't I start this as a way of being more open about all this? So why is it so hard to be honest when it does get difficult?

Perhaps I really am just a pessimistic complainer, who only focuses on the bad stuff and doesn't try hard enough to be happy. A girl who can't handle ordinary life, goes down at the smallest punch and expects everything to be handed to her on a silver platter. I start to wonder what's wrong with me.

"Why can't you just get on with it?" 

"Buck up."

"Get over it already!"



"Pull your socks up!"




"What have you got to be sad about?"

Other mum's manage just fine, so what is wrong with me? I am avoiding socialising with some new mums because their apparent togetherness and blissful existence leaves me feeling incapable. You make me afraid that I somehow love my daughter less than they love theirs. You make me feel that they are looking at me with disappointment in their eyes, whispering behind my back in coffee groups about how horrible I am, how selfish, how negligent and how attention seeking. I have a child, she's perfect, she's healthy and she's happy, so why don't I just get on with it?

Why can't I just snap out of it?

But that's just it, isn't it Morosey, I know you're here for the long haul and that's my lot. There will be no 'snapping out of it'.

Morose, you make me so angry. How am I supposed to be a good mum when in my head I am begging her to stop crying at the same time I'm trying not to start? How am I supposed to get through the hours, days, weeks with your constant hypnotic suggestions of peace ringing in my brain? How am I supposed to enjoy this precious time with her when each smile is a struggle and my arms won't lift themselves let alone her?

Well you know what MG, I will keep doing just that. I'll smile for her, even if it's fake. I'll laugh for her, even if it's just for show. I'll do it because I love her. Because she deserves to think I am happy. She deserves to think I am fine. This fight has nothing to do with her, it's between you and me. So keep on bringing it, if you must.

Sincerely,
Me.

Magical Mummy Moments

I know, I spend a lot of time on this blog complaining, or writing about how much harder this parenting business is than I ever anticipated. But, believe it or not, in amongst the exhaustion, disbelief and despair, there are some things about becoming a Mum, that I wouldn't exchange for anything, and it's not just the endless opportunities for selfies with a baby.

• Those super cute, delicious, never-let-this-moment-end, sweet baby conversations before they equally deliciously fall asleep.

• Those glorious heart-glow moments when they touch your face with their tiny hands - right before their finger goes up your nose.

• The unbridled excitement on their faces when you get them up in the morning - even though it's only 6:30am and you've only had five (lucky!) hours of sleep.

• The infectious almost-giggles that erupt when you make silly faces and equally silly noises.

• How much they love jumping, bouncing, flying, swinging - anything that gives your arms a workout. 

Of course, the frequency with which I now feel like I've achieved something momentous, is also a pretty good side affect of having a six month old - "yay, she is having a nap!" "Yay, she ate all her food!" "Yay, she slept for more than half an hour!" "BOOM! Look how much housework I managed to do!" "Yay, I managed to get her to stop crying!" "Yay! I figured out what is wrong!" "Yay, I knew just by her cry that she was tired/hungry/bored!" "YES! We left the house!" - But I digress.

Safe to say, having a six month old is a million times better than having a New Born. So I'm excited (probably somewhat naively) about what's in store for us next!

Am I Ready for a Baby?

This is the only quiz you will ever need to take. To find out if you are ready for a little bundle of joy, read on.

1. You're sick of having the same old 'will you do the dishes' discussion with your significant other. 

No. Move On.

Yes. Have a baby. You'll fight over doing the dishes or putting the baby to bed, with dishes being the preferred outcome. Oh, the uninterrupted tidying time!

2. You desperately want an excuse to buy a whole new wardrobe. 

No. Move on.

Yes. Have a baby. You'll be forced to buy new clothes, weekly. Unfortunately, every new purchase will rapidly increasing in size, and decrease in style - even when the baby is out - unless you're one of those mum's who actually go back to their original size. bastards.

3. You struggle to get the laundry done and end up spending one day a week frantically trying to wash and dry everything you own. 

No. Move on.

Yes. Have a baby. That tiny creature will create more washing than you have ever seen in your life. Their washing pile will be bigger than yours, and you will have no choice but to do a wash every day so that you don't run out of onesies, bibs or cloth nappies.

4. You generally struggle to keep your house in a semi organised state.

No. Move on.

Yes. Have a baby. In amongst all the laundry and dishes you'll be doing, your floor is about to become incredibly clutter free, as you rapidly discover the sheer number of items a baby can fit in its mouth. 

5. You really struggle to get up in the morning.

No. Move on.

Yes. Have a baby. The most trustworthy and yet, unpredictable alarm in the world. You will not be able to push the snooze button ever again.

6. You've read my entire blog and every parenting and pregnancy book there is. You've joined every mummy page on facebook and know what I'm talking about when I mention the words 'ferber method' and 'helicopter parenting' and 'wonder weeks'. 

No. Move on.

Yes. Have a kid. You'll soon realise how much time you wasted and then Bean and I will have someone else to play with!

Results. 

Mostly yes. Your life sounds amazing, you have so much time on your hands! You are definitely not ready for a baby. If you have one anyway, it will be like a train has hit you in the face. But at least your dishes will get done. With glee. Every day. Multiple times a day. Joy!

Mostly No. Your life sounds amazing, you're way too organised and particular about things to have a baby come and turn it upside down for you. Why are you even reading this?

Judgemental Singers

This is me singing. 

I am a singer. I have sung forever and I love it. On many occasions I openly attribute singing with saving my life and keeping me sane. Because, unlike other instruments, singing comes from somewhere deep in ones soul, singing gives voice to emotions in a way which playing an external instrument can not. Every vocal instrument has it's own unique sound, which is perhaps why people get so nervous about singing. Yet people have sung since forever, for countless reasons and for no reason at all. Everyone can sing, and most people do at some point in their lives. But a real 'singer' is someone who sings all the time, who feels sad if they don't sing for a day or so, who sings along to everything simply because that's what they do, they literally can't help it. Singing is a part of them and a part of what they do. For a singer, the act of really singing, is freedom in it's purest form.

I want my daughter to sing, I can't wait to hear her voice when she does. Sometimes I sit her on my lap at the piano and sing songs which she sometimes 'sings' along to. Ok, so she might make more of a drawn out "aaaah" sound, but I like to think she's joining in. She certainly seems to be enjoying it.

But, much as I want her to be a singer, to get lessons, join choirs and to sing all that she can, I am worried. Because it has been my experience, that singers, are the most judgemental of all the musicians. Of those judgemental singers, the most bitchy are the trained singers, and strangely enough, the most arrogant, are the ones who have "never had a lesson".

This is an interesting paradox which I have come across time and time again, and am finding increasingly frustrating.

So why is this post on my 'mummy' blog? 

Because this is a future my daughter is very likely to be entering into, and while I'll be thrilled if she does turn out to be a 'singer', the thought of her becoming this judgemental makes me sad, and thought of the judgement coming her way makes my stomach turn.

Let me explain.

We judge each other for singing too softly, having too much air in our tone, or not having enough breath support. 

For being too tense, too slouchy, putting an H before a vowel, for putting a glottal stop before a vowel, for singing the same vowel different ways, for singing all the vowels the same.

For over singing, under singing, not enough diction or for over pronouncing words. 

We judge other singers for not interpreting the song 'correctly', for not singing loud enough, for being too nasal, for not using enough nasality.

For yelling, for using too much vibrato, for not having vibrato or for not holding that final note quite as long as we could have held it.

We sit in polite silence when someone gets the solo that

 'should have been ours', 

and whisper to the singer next to us about how we can't stand the way another singer sings.

When a successful singer 'screws up' their live performance, my facebook page becomes riddled with comments about how useless they are. If a performer gets outed for singing to a click track, everyone starts talking about how they can't sing. If a new singer appears out of nowhere and shoots to fame, singers everywhere start to tear them down, to dish out backhanded criticisms:

"I'm sure they are a really nice person, but they really can't sing."

"What a horrible voice."

"Can't you hear their vibrato? It's terrible!"

"Omg, I can't stand the way they have no tone."

"They must have really rich parents, because there's no way they got where they are because of their voice."

It seems ridiculous to me, that when singers share such a visceral and primal need to use our voice for song, and can understand each other in a way non-singers can not, that we continue to sit on our high horses, acting as though we alone, are the be all and end all of musical taste and knowledge and know-how. That somehow we are the voice above all others, and are not only able to, but feel that we should ensure, that everyone else knows that they. are. not.

I have now been teaching singing for four years, and I have been taught different singing techniques by numerous different teachers over nearly 20 (yikes, really?!) years. I am not a perfect singer, but you know what? I don't know what a perfect singer is. There are very few people who come through my door who aren't as passionate about singing as I am. Who don't live and breath singing, and who haven't come to me because they are searching for something they know they have but can't find. To sing higher, louder, stronger, longer.

I do know, that for years and years my voice was trapped inside me because of fear, lack of training (yes, that hideous thing that means I cannot say my voice is 'my own' and unaltered), and general lack of belief. I knew that I could sing better than I was singing, but I struggled for years to actually find it. Sometimes I even dreamed that I was singing with nothing holding me back, that I had finally learnt how to free it. And when I finally found the teacher who was able to show me how to unlock it, I finally felt that feeling of utter freedom, and knew that finally, I found my true voice.

MY. 

TRUE. 

VOICE.

So when another singer brings someone else down for using their true voice, it makes my skin crawl.

Does it matter if someone is successful and 'making it' in a singing career if they do things less than perfect? Does it matter if they have a breathy tone or a husky voice? Does it matter if they never sing above a G4 or use too much vibrato? They are the ones who have 'made it'. They are the ones who have achieved what every, single, one of us dreams of. Why must we make ourselves feel better by convincing ourselves that we are more worthy of their success than they are?

What about you 'untrained' singers who make the self righteous claim 'I've never had a lesson' repeatedly, as though having a lesson means you are less of a true singer. Does having a singing lesson mean your voice is no longer pure? No longer your own? Does it mean that you don't deserve success because clearly you couldn't sing to start with? 

What gives you, the trained or untrained singer down the road, the right to say this about anyone else?

"I'm sorry, but they just can't sing."

Really? They can't sing? What do you mean when you say that? More importantly, why are you saying it?

I sing because I love it and I have a need to do so. 

I took lessons because I knew my true voice wasn't yet free and I wanted to find it. 

I would rather die than be made to stop singing. It's a part of me. Just as it is a part of every singer.

So why can't we all stop talking behind each others backs, and start singing to each others faces?

Parent App Upgrade

Congratulations! You've successfully completed six months of Parent App installation!

 It's time for an upgrade.

Introducing The Parent App Upgrade.

Description

But let's be honest, things have moved on, you're starting to figure this game out, you're even starting to have fun at times, and sometimes, you can even figure out what the problem is! Life is looking up, you have succeeded in giving your life that much-needed overhaul and now you are never bored. You have found fulfilment and endless hours of entertainment. You've learnt to go-with-the-flow and to not expect to be on time or stay clean. You have successfully abandoned all those simple games that used to bring you hours of mindless glee, candy crush? A mere memory now. 

What's New In Version 2.0?

-  new 'solid food' function, don't over feed, under feed, feed too often, feed the wrong food or                  food the wrong consistency at the wrong age level or the wrong time of day.
-  'sleep on mum/dad only' bug partially removed.
-  increased mobility added for baby.
-  new 'entertain me' and 'create a schedule' function added.
-  new challenges - make your baby smart, keep your baby in their cot, keep the mystery item out of          their mouths.

Reviews

Jonny492

***

"Why is there no opt out fuction? Seriously, what is this shit?"

Millyjukes
***
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sexyicequeen

***

"ok, what is with this, can't you install a pause function? This should come with a warning - you will never have a break again. I've been trying to write my facebook status for HOURS and I honestly can't get it done cos this stupid app keeps interrupting me!"

supermum978
***
"This upgrade rocks. I loved the last version too, but this upgrade just makes it so much better!" 

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"Why??"

Your download will begin immediately, you cannot opt out of this upgrade. You have already agreed to the terms and conditions of this upgrade by downloading and installing the original app. If you wish to review these terms and conditions please click here.