Street Harrassment

I feel a need to address the current push for awareness of street harassment.

A lot of people feel like it isn't an issue.

But I'm here to tell you it is.

Growing up in small town NZ you wouldn't think it would be an issue.

But it is.

Most people imagine that it must only happen to girls who somehow ask for it.

But it doesn't.

And sadly, until I started seeing these calls for growing awareness, I actually believed that it is something girls just had to 'deal' with.

At 29 years old, I am suddenly being made aware that perhaps, we don't.

I didn't think I was a 'victim' of sexual harassment. I never thought I had been sexually abused. Sure - I don't feel safe walking alone after dark. I always put my keys between my fingers walking to my car in the dark. I keep my head down and consciously avoid eye contact with men, when I'm forced to walk in an alleyway or through a park. But that's just normal, sensible behaviour.

Right?

Now, I am reconsidering. This campaign is making me remember the countless times I've been cat called, wolf whistled, tailed, bothered and 'harassed'.

I never considered myself a pretty person. I have never thought I look beautiful. I certainly was never been a 'popular' kid, or even felt like I had any shot at being 'cool'.

I was a moody, awkward, acne blessed, fashion faux-pas of a teenager, who never knew what to do with her hair, and would rather wear comfy clothes and read a book than dress up and go drinking.

I know I didn't feel sexy when I was cat-called from a car at just 15 years old while walking to church.

I definitely didn't feel happily complimented when I was followed by a man in a car while biking home from my zucchini packing summer job at 17 years old.

I didn't feel pretty when I hid behind a bush in a driveway and watched that same car drive slowly past - the driver actively looking for where I had gone.

I sure didn't feel loved when at 18 years old I was tailed by a man in Italy whom I tried to ignore  - which quickly became impossible to do, because he got out of his car and proceeded to try and drag me into it.

I didn't feel beautiful when he then grabbed me round the throat and tried to kiss me and grab my ass.

I didn't smile with pride when I was yelled at, abused and sworn at, for not responding to a middle aged man calling me baby while walking to work in the middle of Christchurch at 19 years old.

I'm nobody special. I'm not especially beautiful. I do not dress especially well, and definitely not provocatively. Yet all of these things happened to me.

These are the times that stick in my memory, and make me keep my eyes down, make me put my keys between my fingers and make me afraid to walk alone in cities, side streets, empty streets, parks and alley-ways. There have been countless other times - but I guess they just get blotted out, become a blur because they are so frequent and normalised.

Besides, I should feel happy that these men consider me worthy of attention.

Right?

Ridiculous Things You Say and Do, When You Have Kids - Or, A Day In the Life Of Me

"No Giraffes at breakfast."

"Stop biting the Cat!"

"Sooo, my baby stole my foundation...."

"What do you mean I have to get changed just because my jeans now have pee on them? No one at the mall will know."

"Hang on, just gotta wash this vomit off my collar."

"Why is there poop in my hair?"

"No Giraffes at lunch!"

"Nope, that's not a Duck, that's a Penguin."

"Nope, not a Duck. That's a Dog."

"Well, that does look like a Duck...but it's actually a Seagull."

"Why have you taught her to say Llama?"

"Oh my, she really does say Llama."

"Nope, that isn't a Llama."

"No, that's also not a Llama, that is a Duck."

"Don't put the Giraffe in your mince!"

"I know it's only 5pm, but can we pretend it's 7pm? She'll never know the difference..."

"For goodness sake, she has FIVE Giraffes - they can't All be lost!"

"Why, is there a Giraffe in our Bath Tub?"

Life After Baby - With Baby

For the first time in more than 2 years, I am feeling...

Happy.

I feel normal. I feel like everything is alright.

I am not manic. I am not depressed. I am not anxious.

I am simply, being, me.

It's been a long time between writing, but that is simply, because, I am...

Happy.

Things are going well. I am starting to glimpse a life where I actually can have a life outside of being Mum.

I can feel bits of me returning. Like my soul has figured out how to live my life again. After two years of adjustment and overhaul, the fragments of myself are coming back together.

Daycare has saved my life. Those precious few hours each weekday where I can catch a breath, where I can enter the world of the Adult, and teach a few kids or eager adults some beautiful songs. That blissful Friday afternoon I have managed to keep completely free of work, where I can sleep, or go to a movie. All of this has saved me, and because of that, I can really start to live again.

My new medication is doing its job. I don't feel cloudy, I don't feel suicidal, I don't feel dizzy, or nauseated, over-ambitious, crazy or any more tired than what I should be with a 13 month old running around the house.

My husband encouraged me to audition for Phantom of the Opera, which is coming here next April. I figured why not, but didn't think I had a hope in hell of actually getting in.

But I did.

I am dumbfounded, and excited and nervous about how it will work - but at the same time, this is the first show I will have done in over 2 years, and the thought (stupid and obvious though it may be) that I can do a show whilst being a stay-at-home-mum, is ......

Indescribable.

Decluttering the House to Declutter My Mind

I've been thinking and thinking about this blog, and about what to write about in this post. Each day comes and goes and I think I have something and then the next day arrives and that thing is gone.

I am finding myself in a strange state of motivation - one which my therapist says is a 'normal' state. But which might feel very elevated to me after being so down for so long. Either way, I am getting an awful lot done at the moment. I am also not getting much sleep.

Here are some good things -

• The little one is back at preschool (YAY!) 
• She hasn't vomited in exactly 14 days (YAY!)
• Two days ago she finally stood on her own! (multiple times!)
• Unfortunately she was naked at the time - so I can't post the photos here (Not so yay)
• I've started writing again! (YUSS) - although I'm not sure if that's good or not - as I seem to only really write when I'm not doing so well.....but I feel like I'm doing fine, so I will roll with it.
• I've been decluttering. 

Now, my husband says this always happens when The Block is on TV. But I disagree, I declutter when it's spring. When the flowers start to come out. When the air warms up and the seasons start to shift from grey and dead to brand new. 

I also see it as a way to declutter my head. To enact physically what I am trying to do mentally. The less 'junk' around me, the less in my head. The less crap I have to look at daily, the more time I can focus on my sanity.

At least, that's what I think it is - perhaps I am just headed for another crash. Fingers crossed that's not the case!

The First Birthday Which Came and Went

Writing is hard.

Like, really hard.

Not like, 'I-can't-eat-that-gingernut-without-dunking-it-in-a-cup-of-tea-or-I'll-break-my-teeth', hard.

More like, 'why-am-I-still-sitting-here-looking-at-a-blank-page-when-my-sink-is-full-of-dishes-and-I-don't-remember-what-my-bedroom-carpet-looks-like', hard.

I don't know how long it's been since the Little One actually made it through 24 hours without vomiting. It's definitely not a bug, we've been sterilising like mad. Boiling her drinking water. Soaking her bottles, sippy cups and utensils in Milton laced water, which, incidentally smells like hospital, and so, takes me rushing back to the psych ward in my mind, every single time the scent invades my nostrils.

I've now un-enrolled her from preschool because it wasn't making any financial sense to be paying for their services when she wasn't actually able to go. Unfortunately, this has meant that I am starting to go a little bit mental again. I need the daily break. I need to know that that break is coming. Which is why, over the past month, I have found myself staring at this screen, willing myself to write something. Anything. But nothing will come.

Yesterday, I cancelled her first birthday party, hours before it was due to start. Husband was none-to-impressed to say the least, but I didn't feel like I had a choice. My stress levels are on overdrive, we have family coming at us from all angles for her birthday, we are swamped in an ungodly amount of toys, I have vomit bowls placed all over the house, I am trying to make her drink to avoid dehydration, she isn't sleeping, I'm not sleeping, I'm having flashbacks of the birth, I'm terrified I'm losing my mind again, family need hosting, house needs cleaning, She is screaming uncontrollably. On, and On, and On and ON!

I'm about to be discharged from the mothers and babies outpatients unit because Little Miss is now 12 months old and that is their cut off criteria. I'm finding that I don't really care, or perhaps I haven't really thought about it. I haven't really had time to really contemplate it amongst all the madness lately.

I can feel my supports slipping away. I'm supposed to be 'better' by now. I'm supposed to be coping. I'm supposed to be getting on with my life.

I find myself being asked the same two questions over and over;

"When are you going back to work?"

"Are you going to have another one?"

But the thought of going back to work seems impossible, if she is sick all the time, how can I take that amount of time off from a job to care for her? How could I possibly manage the stupid amount of extra hours that come with being a High School Teacher, how could I find time to plan, mark, write reports? Could I find the strength to put on my teaching face every day? Perhaps it would be helpful to return to work though, perhaps it would be what saves me, perhaps it's what I need...

And then there's the second question.

Another one?

Really?

Writing is hard.

Getting Sick

In the past three weeks, my daughter has only made it to daycare on average once every three days. In fact, I've lost count of exactly how many times she's been in, because I'd swear that every time she returns, I get a phone-call mere hours later requesting that I pick her up.

Of course, whenever I see the centre's number on my phone now, I feel my heart skip a beat.

Seeing that number means a 48 hour exclusion.
48 hours before she can return to the centre.
10 hours of paid for childcare we aren't able to use.
2 days and nights of having a frustratingly happy, and healthy baby at home.

And then the weekends come, and she really is sick!

We've had four, maybe five trips to the after hours surgery in the past three weeks. Thank God for free doctors visits for kids. Thank God for healthline, we really should just put them on speed dial.

We've had chest infections, fevers, vomiting, hand-foot-and mouth disease, another stomach bug, a days respite and then straight onto the next round.

I am immune to vomit. And starting to question whether it's worth keeping her enrolled in daycare at all?

Why Depression Needs to be Treated Like Other Life Threatening Illnesses

I know. Another post about suicide in a week filled with posts about suicide. Because one man, close to so many of our hearts, felt so hopeless that he did the 'unthinkable' and ended his life, and suddenly, everyone is talking about it.

This week, all the mental health facebook groups I am part of, have been full of trigger warnings, posts by people being deeply affected by the ignorant status updates, tweets and columns being written by people who have absolutely no idea what they are talking about.

I've had this conversation before. "Suicide is the ultimate act of selfishness" I've been told by professionals in no uncertain terms. "Think of your family. Think of your friends".

I've had this conversation with a fellow colleague in regards to a student who committed suicide, he was angry and kept talking about how 'selfish' the student had been.

I've had this conversation with my husband in regards to my own depressive thoughts. Only to be pushed further into despair because truly, at that time he could not understand.

But they were wrong.

Suicide may be selfish, but those who attempt it, are not being selfish. 

In those moments, days, seconds when you are in that much pain, when you are watching those around you suffer because of your suffering, you do not try to kill yourself because you want out regardless of what it will do to those you love. You do it because you want out because of the relief it will bring them.

You see the pain you are causing them and you no longer want to be their burden but you can't see any other way to make this happen.

You see the toll it is taking on their lives, their spirits, their daily routines and you no longer want to be the one bringing everyone else down with you. But the pain is so great, that you literally feel it in every fibre and you have no idea how to make it stop.

Depression that deep, messes with you in ways that no one can articulate. It is an illness so insidious that most people who get it, will fight it silently for years, over and over again, without anyone knowing.

So next time you see a friend who is 'down', or you are confided in by someone who trusts you enough to tell you that they are feeling so bad they want to kill themselves, don't push them closer to the edge by telling them to think of their friends and family. Don't pull them deeper into despair by telling them how selfish they are being.

When you are well, you can see that taking your own life is not the answer. You can see that there is hope. But until we, as a society, are able to take Depression as seriously as any other life threatening illness, then those who are in need, are going to remain in the shadows.

Because would you admit to being unwell, if you knew you have a high chance of being told to simply 'get over it', or worse, being judged as selfish?

Helpful things to do/say instead;

Sometimes you don't need to say anything, sometimes nothing you can say is going to help anyway.

But what will help - and possibly save a life - is just to be there. Whether that's in the same room, or in the same house, having someone around when you are in that deep can really make you feel a lot safer. Sometimes you don't feel like you have control of your own actions, so having someone around to make sure that you don't do 'something stupid', no matter how bad you feel is always a good thing.

If they have told you they feel suicidal, call a psychiatric emergency service, and do a check of their house for potentially threatening items - especially if they are going to be alone for any reason! As I mentioned above, it can feel like you are losing control of your mind, and everyday items suddenly seemed magnified and dangerous. Think about areas of the house they might go to, and what might be useful to remove for the time being. If somehow they do find a way to move from their bed, not having to look at the knives in the kitchen,  or the razor in the shower, or the pills in the cabinet can really make a difference.

Make them a cup of tea/coffee/hot chocolate. Actions speak loud. Real loud. And if someone takes the time to do these little things for you it does get through, sometimes just a tiny bit but perhaps that will be enough.

Make them muffins/food/casserole. Just like you would if they had a bad flu, or a new baby. Having good food they can stick in the microwave and eat without having to actually cook or create is a godsend. When you are depressed, your energy and will power are sapped, you end up eating whatever is at hand, or often, nothing at all because it's just too hard. Having frozen food will actually help keep your loved one healthy and help them get better.

Of course, being there in a non judgemental way is sometimes hard, and if you are having to care for a depressed person alone, you are going to struggle. So make sure you have support for yourself too!


Obligatory 'get help' contact details

• Lifeline: 0800 543 354 - Provides 24 hour telephone counselling
• Youthline: 0800 376 633 or free text 234 - Provides 24 hour telephone and text counselling services for young people
• Samaritans: 0800 726 666 - Provides 24 hour telephone counselling.
• Tautoko: 0508 828 865 - provides support, information and resources to people at risk of suicide, and their family, whānau and friends.
• Alcohol & Drug Helpline 0800 787 797  
• Whatsup: 0800 942 8787 (noon to 11pm)
• Kidsline: 0800 543 754 (4pm - 6pm weekdays)