May contain triggers for you. Stay safe.
There is a tree in the middle of a field where I used to walk my dog. That tree was my comfort blanket. I imagined myself hanging from it. Not the putting of the rope around the branch or the physical act of looping it around my neck or how horrid it would feel to die. Just the peace I felt seeing the figure limp and lifeless, hanging there. At peace at last.
Morbid? yes, weird? maybe? Why was it a comfort? Because it meant that if the figure was me I would be free from all these terrible feelings and free of the conflict my brain was constantly throwing at me. The guilt was like a lead weight suffocating me. Why did I feel this way?
Personally I think I had done more than my body could take and the fatigue precipitated the depression. I was exhausted but I was also depressed. I've seen the same pattern over and over again. I get exhausted and then really depressed. I can be tired and start getting depressed but then I get exhausted and become much more depressed. It's not the normal kind of tiredness, it's not relieved by sleep and I could sleep for hours and hours and still feel dreadful.
I was on antidepressants and was still under the mother and baby psychiatrist but still felt my mood wasn't improving with the drugs so my psych changed it. I stayed on citalopram for a while then was discharged from the mother and baby psychiatrist when my daughter was a year old, which was the normal thing. I had appointments every 3 months to keep a close eye on me but every time I went, I saw a new face and had to repeat everything again. After the 3rd visit I lost all faith in the psychiatric system again as the doctor I was with kept nodding off on me. I answered his questions with 'yes/no' answers juts to get to over with and get out of there. It felt like a farce. It felt like no one was listening anymore.
I just pretended everything was ok but it wasn't. I went to my GP and asked to swapped to a drug I had briefly tried before. He refused and said I needed to change my life style. I told him I was trying and had done what I could but still felt suicidal. He asked me with what I thought at the time was a very a patronising tone, why I hadn't killed myself yet. I was getting very upset and angry and aware I was shouting, I have a loud voice anyway so it doesn't take much for me to sound louder. I screamed at him though gritted teeth 'because I have a child'. He was still not going to change my tablets so I stormed out the surgery and headed home. I bloody mindedly cancelled my psychiatric appointments knowing to get one again may result in me having to go on the waiting list again and decided I would do it all alone and come off my pills altogether.
It wasn't long before I was struggling again so decided to contact the MIND advocacy people to have a representative come with me to talk to the GP. I felt that being on my own they could say anything and be unhelpful and I was very vulnerable. Having someone with me had always proved beneficial in the past. My husband wouldn't come with me and I didn't have anyone I could ask to go with me. These people are trained for these situations so knew it was the right thing to do. I was determined to go back to the GP and face up to him and get him to help me. By the time I got an appointment again, that GP had left so got a locus instead. He could not have been a nicer person. He was understanding, helpful and caring. He rang my psychiatrist there and then and spoke to him. By that time legislation had changed and GP's could no longer prescribe certain drugs, only psychiatrists could.
I went back to see my psychiatrist and this time actual saw the consultant. He was ok with me after he told me I should never take my medication into my own hands and my treatment needed close supervision! Anyway after discussion he agreed with me to go back on the meds I had been on a while back, Venlafaxine. I was on a really small dose as I found the side effects to be horrid.
I found it very hard to function, although I did my best for my daughter. She was never neglected, but I only had the energy for her and my gran and that was about it. I was also having dreadful trouble with my stomach. The doctors said it was IBS and gave me a shed load of pills to help with it. It kept me up at night in agony and I felt like I had been poisoned a lot of the time. I was really sensitive to a lot of foods and was experimenting with cutting things out, avoiding dairy, stuff like that. I didn't drink a lot at the time either.
I couldn't face the possibility of going back to work and as the weeks rolled by I still had trouble coming to terms with going back. I just had about enough energy to do the basics. I was having acupuncture again and eating better and slowly the depression and suicidal thoughts subsided but I still couldn't stand the thought of going back to work. It was the momentum I didn't think I could stand and I wasn't good at pacing myself. Luckily, my husband was earning good money so I asked him if I could give up or until I was fully better. I know I berated him for not helping me out but I was and am grateful he allowed me to give up work.
I say 'allowed' because I couldn't just give up work without his say so. We could manage financially but it would mean he would be responsible for all the bills etc. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would have struggled with the concept.
With nothing else to cloud my recovery I embarked on looking after my daughter and my granny and granddad and living a very simple life. A easier life. I began to get my energy back and feel more positive. I took 8 months off work altogether and began thinking about getting another job. Very part time hours only. I ended up asking my ex manager if I could get a job back in the place I worked when my daughter had been born. I got one night a week. The manager was ok with us doing fixed nights but not fixed days. I thought one night a week would be fine. I had to do it at the weekend so we wouldn't have to pay for childcare so my husband could spend some quality time with our daughter also.
He was doing the house up at the time so spent most weekends doing DIY therefore he never got to spend quality time with her. It was a good opportunity for them both. The only thing was he would spend her the time with her going to DIY stores! Gradually I got back into the swing of things and started working 2 nights a week but it was hard work. I'd try to sleep the day of my night shift for an hour or 2 before I got my daughter from school then go to work and hardly sleep the next day as I found it hard to do that. I'd probably get 2-3 hours max in the day then pick her up from school. Some days I was so desperate to get back to sleep that as soon as my husband walked in the door I would go to bed. Then the next day I'd do the same again as I had another night shift to do.
My husband continued to not have much interest in being a father to our daughter and I was solely responsible for her. 24/7. I found this very difficult being so tired after a night shift and dragging myself to get her from school after 3 hours sleep at most. I was in a constant fog of tiredness and lack of sleep followed by insomnia. It wasn't pleasant.
I carried on this way for a couple of years. I'd always known when I had gotten married that life would be the same day in and day out with not much to look forward to in the way of holidays and I could predict the future totally. A few breaks away camping, myself and my daughter and trips to see friends broke up the monotony. Nothing changed. I craved excitement. Mostly I was doing ok and could manage with a few short lived blips in between but with a nagging sense of boredom.
Our daughter was nearly 4 by then and I'd started to entertain myself to relieve the boredom by fantasising that a guy would come and sweep me off my feet and rescue me from the mundanity. Writing this now I can see it's ridiculous. I was very unhappy with my husband and should have just found somewhere to live and leave him. Messing about on Facebook I came across a guy I used to know from school and messaged him.
Messages passed back and forth for a while, mainly about life and what we had been up to. Then he started asking if we could meet. And although the thought was exciting I was nervous. I didn't even consider my husbands feelings as I thought I had nagged and begged long enough for some help, even just go in work a little later so I could get straight to bed and get an extra hours sleep but it never happened. I switched off my capacity to care about what he thought. I know now it was wrong.
We were getting closer to meeting all the time and when we'd finally arranged on a date I had cold feet. I remember coming back from the school run one morning and ringing him saying I couldn't do it as he had so much to lose from seeing me. I didn't think I had anything to lose. I was my daughters total carer so my daughter would always stay with me. Fathers don't generally get custody of their children and become part time. How naive I was.
He persuaded me to see him and I agreed. I lied about where I was going but my husband knew I was up to something. After the first night we spent together I knew then I would leave my marriage. I thought we would be together as we were meant to be. I was on cloud nine. I felt more alive than I had done for a long time.
But this was the start, as I'm sure you can imagine, of incredible heart ache and pain for us all.
There is a tree in the middle of a field where I used to walk my dog. That tree was my comfort blanket. I imagined myself hanging from it. Not the putting of the rope around the branch or the physical act of looping it around my neck or how horrid it would feel to die. Just the peace I felt seeing the figure limp and lifeless, hanging there. At peace at last.
Morbid? yes, weird? maybe? Why was it a comfort? Because it meant that if the figure was me I would be free from all these terrible feelings and free of the conflict my brain was constantly throwing at me. The guilt was like a lead weight suffocating me. Why did I feel this way?
Personally I think I had done more than my body could take and the fatigue precipitated the depression. I was exhausted but I was also depressed. I've seen the same pattern over and over again. I get exhausted and then really depressed. I can be tired and start getting depressed but then I get exhausted and become much more depressed. It's not the normal kind of tiredness, it's not relieved by sleep and I could sleep for hours and hours and still feel dreadful.
I was on antidepressants and was still under the mother and baby psychiatrist but still felt my mood wasn't improving with the drugs so my psych changed it. I stayed on citalopram for a while then was discharged from the mother and baby psychiatrist when my daughter was a year old, which was the normal thing. I had appointments every 3 months to keep a close eye on me but every time I went, I saw a new face and had to repeat everything again. After the 3rd visit I lost all faith in the psychiatric system again as the doctor I was with kept nodding off on me. I answered his questions with 'yes/no' answers juts to get to over with and get out of there. It felt like a farce. It felt like no one was listening anymore.
I just pretended everything was ok but it wasn't. I went to my GP and asked to swapped to a drug I had briefly tried before. He refused and said I needed to change my life style. I told him I was trying and had done what I could but still felt suicidal. He asked me with what I thought at the time was a very a patronising tone, why I hadn't killed myself yet. I was getting very upset and angry and aware I was shouting, I have a loud voice anyway so it doesn't take much for me to sound louder. I screamed at him though gritted teeth 'because I have a child'. He was still not going to change my tablets so I stormed out the surgery and headed home. I bloody mindedly cancelled my psychiatric appointments knowing to get one again may result in me having to go on the waiting list again and decided I would do it all alone and come off my pills altogether.
It wasn't long before I was struggling again so decided to contact the MIND advocacy people to have a representative come with me to talk to the GP. I felt that being on my own they could say anything and be unhelpful and I was very vulnerable. Having someone with me had always proved beneficial in the past. My husband wouldn't come with me and I didn't have anyone I could ask to go with me. These people are trained for these situations so knew it was the right thing to do. I was determined to go back to the GP and face up to him and get him to help me. By the time I got an appointment again, that GP had left so got a locus instead. He could not have been a nicer person. He was understanding, helpful and caring. He rang my psychiatrist there and then and spoke to him. By that time legislation had changed and GP's could no longer prescribe certain drugs, only psychiatrists could.
I went back to see my psychiatrist and this time actual saw the consultant. He was ok with me after he told me I should never take my medication into my own hands and my treatment needed close supervision! Anyway after discussion he agreed with me to go back on the meds I had been on a while back, Venlafaxine. I was on a really small dose as I found the side effects to be horrid.
I found it very hard to function, although I did my best for my daughter. She was never neglected, but I only had the energy for her and my gran and that was about it. I was also having dreadful trouble with my stomach. The doctors said it was IBS and gave me a shed load of pills to help with it. It kept me up at night in agony and I felt like I had been poisoned a lot of the time. I was really sensitive to a lot of foods and was experimenting with cutting things out, avoiding dairy, stuff like that. I didn't drink a lot at the time either.
I couldn't face the possibility of going back to work and as the weeks rolled by I still had trouble coming to terms with going back. I just had about enough energy to do the basics. I was having acupuncture again and eating better and slowly the depression and suicidal thoughts subsided but I still couldn't stand the thought of going back to work. It was the momentum I didn't think I could stand and I wasn't good at pacing myself. Luckily, my husband was earning good money so I asked him if I could give up or until I was fully better. I know I berated him for not helping me out but I was and am grateful he allowed me to give up work.
I say 'allowed' because I couldn't just give up work without his say so. We could manage financially but it would mean he would be responsible for all the bills etc. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would have struggled with the concept.
With nothing else to cloud my recovery I embarked on looking after my daughter and my granny and granddad and living a very simple life. A easier life. I began to get my energy back and feel more positive. I took 8 months off work altogether and began thinking about getting another job. Very part time hours only. I ended up asking my ex manager if I could get a job back in the place I worked when my daughter had been born. I got one night a week. The manager was ok with us doing fixed nights but not fixed days. I thought one night a week would be fine. I had to do it at the weekend so we wouldn't have to pay for childcare so my husband could spend some quality time with our daughter also.
He was doing the house up at the time so spent most weekends doing DIY therefore he never got to spend quality time with her. It was a good opportunity for them both. The only thing was he would spend her the time with her going to DIY stores! Gradually I got back into the swing of things and started working 2 nights a week but it was hard work. I'd try to sleep the day of my night shift for an hour or 2 before I got my daughter from school then go to work and hardly sleep the next day as I found it hard to do that. I'd probably get 2-3 hours max in the day then pick her up from school. Some days I was so desperate to get back to sleep that as soon as my husband walked in the door I would go to bed. Then the next day I'd do the same again as I had another night shift to do.
My husband continued to not have much interest in being a father to our daughter and I was solely responsible for her. 24/7. I found this very difficult being so tired after a night shift and dragging myself to get her from school after 3 hours sleep at most. I was in a constant fog of tiredness and lack of sleep followed by insomnia. It wasn't pleasant.
I carried on this way for a couple of years. I'd always known when I had gotten married that life would be the same day in and day out with not much to look forward to in the way of holidays and I could predict the future totally. A few breaks away camping, myself and my daughter and trips to see friends broke up the monotony. Nothing changed. I craved excitement. Mostly I was doing ok and could manage with a few short lived blips in between but with a nagging sense of boredom.
Our daughter was nearly 4 by then and I'd started to entertain myself to relieve the boredom by fantasising that a guy would come and sweep me off my feet and rescue me from the mundanity. Writing this now I can see it's ridiculous. I was very unhappy with my husband and should have just found somewhere to live and leave him. Messing about on Facebook I came across a guy I used to know from school and messaged him.
Messages passed back and forth for a while, mainly about life and what we had been up to. Then he started asking if we could meet. And although the thought was exciting I was nervous. I didn't even consider my husbands feelings as I thought I had nagged and begged long enough for some help, even just go in work a little later so I could get straight to bed and get an extra hours sleep but it never happened. I switched off my capacity to care about what he thought. I know now it was wrong.
We were getting closer to meeting all the time and when we'd finally arranged on a date I had cold feet. I remember coming back from the school run one morning and ringing him saying I couldn't do it as he had so much to lose from seeing me. I didn't think I had anything to lose. I was my daughters total carer so my daughter would always stay with me. Fathers don't generally get custody of their children and become part time. How naive I was.
He persuaded me to see him and I agreed. I lied about where I was going but my husband knew I was up to something. After the first night we spent together I knew then I would leave my marriage. I thought we would be together as we were meant to be. I was on cloud nine. I felt more alive than I had done for a long time.
But this was the start, as I'm sure you can imagine, of incredible heart ache and pain for us all.
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