It'll be okay when the baby is born, I'll be able to move more then.
It'll be okay once we move out of this tiny flat, I'll be less stressed.
It'll be okay once the meds kick in, I'll be back to normal then.
It'll be okay once he's in a routine, we'll get more sleep then.
It'll be okay once the baby is born, I won't be in pain then.
It'll be okay once we get a car, we can get out more then.
It'll be okay once you change jobs, we'll have more time together then.
It'll be okay once I change my meds, I'll be happier then.
It'll be okay once we've sorted the debt, there will be less debt.
It'll be okay once I have the weight loss surgery, I'll be happy then.
It'll be okay once we move out of this flat, its too small anyway.
Yes but will it actually ever be okay?
I can't help but think there one common denominator between everything not being okay and my consistent unhappiness.
Myself.
Me.
I could change my circumstances upside down and around again but I will still be unhappy.
This upsets me because I'm not sure what I can what I can do to make myself happy.
I'll get back to you on that one.
Thursday 30 June 2016
Tuesday 28 June 2016
When Depression Strikes Back
"I wasn't ready to be a millionaire, I was ill prepared.
I was prepared to be ill though, the skill was there"
Mental illness runs like an artery through my family. Mum's and Dad's. (Thanks guys!)
Don't get me wrong, we don't all gather and sit in the corner rocking backwards and forwards at family occasions... But it's been a prevalent part of our lives at one time or another. And we all know to call out for help when it's needed because we all know what it's like. I have the most amazing friends and family. Truly. Some friends I speak to every day, some I don't speak to for months. But I know they are all there for me whenever I need them.
But when you're at the absolute peak of the blackness, there is nobody who can help you.
It's like constantly being told you're not good enough or not worth anything at every minute of the day. But you know it's not true because you have people who love you and who care, but the same voice that tells you these things, is screaming even louder that there is no point to anything. There is no point to waking up because everything is worthless anyway.
It's an empty pit in the deepest part of your soul that sucks the smallest amount of joy from anything that presents itself in your life.
It's needing to take a huge deep breath to nourish yourself but the oxygen does nothing.
The pain of full blown depression is horrific. Give me physical pain over a mental illness any day. Nobody can see mental illness, so they just think you're being lazy or rude when you don't respond to their calls. But the truth is you just can't.You literally do not see the point to doing anything but laying in bed all day every day.
I started to feel the beginning of this and decided to change my medication. I knew that it wasn't doing it's job any more. So after much begging my doctor, she changed me onto a stronger type of medication that has wild success in a tonne of people. Even a member of my family takes it and says how amazing it is.
I thought that this was the way forward and I would be back to my positive, happy self within a couple of weeks.
Me and Jamie 'split up' three times in one week. In my broken state I was convinced that Jamie was making me unhappy and we shouldn't be together. Everything, and I mean everything, Jamie did was wrong. He must have been in hell. It took me four weeks of this torture to realise my medication wasn't working. I barely got out of bed in the morning, let alone getting dressed. I felt empty. That's best way I can describe it.
Not only that, but my weight loss had stalled because I have no restriction from my eating. So naturally I was eating anything I could get my hands on. I went back to my doctor three times and explained to them that these meds were simply not working. They kept telling me to wait a week and come back. In the end I refused to be fobbed off and told them I needed to change because my family couldn't take any more of my horrible personality.
Two weeks of different medication and I am now typing this with my nails painted, make up on and my hair done. I feel happy and content.
I don't know how Jamie put up with me. I don't know why he put up with me. But I do know that he is the person I hope to be when I am well.
I am writing this post because I want those who don't understand depression to know that it is so real. It is just as real as any other illness that you need medication to help make better. It is not an illness that will go away with 'a positive mental state'. It hurts.
And for those who are suffering right now, those who are empty inside and feel like there is no way out of the tunnel of black, please get help. Please ask for help. Nobody deserves to feel empty.
Oh and Jamie...
Thank you for being the strongest man I know. I love you.
Besides... Who could be sad with these beautiful beings to wake up to every day ?
Wednesday 15 June 2016
Why Don't People Do Their Jobs?!
Ugh. I'm so annoyed!
So last week I bid for a property on my council housing website. When bidding closed we were in third position for this absolutely perfect two bedroom house, with a massive garden and in a perfect location.
Needless to say I was absolutely buzzing when they called me up to say we've been shortlisted and we were asked to bring in some important documents to make sure everything was as we said it was. We received that email on the 8th of June and the deadline to bring in the documents was the 9th of June at 3pm.
So there I go, trotting down to the council with all my documents in hand, They were all photo copied and all was good!
I go home and eagerly await my phone call to tell me we can go and view it.
Imagine my utter devastation when I log into the website today for it to say "Skipped - non engagement with services"
WHAT.
I shoot straight on the phone to the council only to be told it needs to be referred to this person... And I need to talk to that person... So right now I am sat here waiting for about three different people to call me back. Meanwhile my dream house is probably being allocated to someone else.
I feel so sad!
If people did their freaking jobs in the first place I wouldn't be sat here freaking out. I hate that our lives are in the hands of someone else :(
Please talk to me about your experiences! Have you ever had any dealings with social housing?
So last week I bid for a property on my council housing website. When bidding closed we were in third position for this absolutely perfect two bedroom house, with a massive garden and in a perfect location.
Needless to say I was absolutely buzzing when they called me up to say we've been shortlisted and we were asked to bring in some important documents to make sure everything was as we said it was. We received that email on the 8th of June and the deadline to bring in the documents was the 9th of June at 3pm.
So there I go, trotting down to the council with all my documents in hand, They were all photo copied and all was good!
I go home and eagerly await my phone call to tell me we can go and view it.
Imagine my utter devastation when I log into the website today for it to say "Skipped - non engagement with services"
WHAT.
I shoot straight on the phone to the council only to be told it needs to be referred to this person... And I need to talk to that person... So right now I am sat here waiting for about three different people to call me back. Meanwhile my dream house is probably being allocated to someone else.
I feel so sad!
If people did their freaking jobs in the first place I wouldn't be sat here freaking out. I hate that our lives are in the hands of someone else :(
Please talk to me about your experiences! Have you ever had any dealings with social housing?
Sunday 12 June 2016
My Home Is Gross...
I like to consider myself a clean person.
I may not necessarily be tidy, but I do like to think of myself as clean.
For some reason I've always struggled to maintain tidiness. Admittedly, it's definitely progressed in difficulty since becoming a mother to two small people. But even growing up, I'd always have the messier bedroom out of myself and my siblings. However I love it when everything has it's place and is neat and tidy. So every few weeks I would burst into life and clean everything and make it all fresh and tidy. I loved those days.
However the tidiness was always short lived. In the coming days my beloved childhood possessions would find themselves on the floor... or under my bed. Much to my dad's dismay I might add.
My life is much the same now really. Every so often the cogs will click and I'll shout "THAT'S ENOUGH" and proceed to tidy Jacob's toys into alphabetical order, or some other completely ridiculous idea that's impossible to maintain. And sit back and be all proud of myself because I've achieved so much that day and I'm so sure that I can keep on top of it. Other parents manage it right?
Well not me! Pretty much the next day, there's Weetabix smeared into the carpet, something unidentifiable drying into a nice crust on the sofa and lord knows what that smell is...
I get into a huge strop over it all, sometimes I even cry.. What's the point in spending my whole day making things beautiful when this is how it ends up?
Well...
Recently I've not had that burst of enthusiasm. At all. Not even a little bit.
I've barely done the absolute minimum to ensure a reduced danger of death from various poisonings...
I knew I wasn't doing the best job but I sort of pushed it to the back of my mind and pretended that it really wasn't that bad.
This week though my dad came over. Now don't get me wrong, my dad is totally the least judgmental person on the planet. He's generally a laid back bloke really. He came over to watch the kids for an hour while I went to an appointment. I realised I had an issue when instead of thinking 'oh I hope Jacob is behaving' I was thinking 'Oh I hope dad doesn't think anything sinister of that Weetabix stain on the wall' and 'I hope he doesn't stumble across that pile of dirty laundry I can't remember what I did with'.
When I got back, dad was happily sat on the sofa with a sleeping Robyn in his arms and Jacob sat next to him reading a book. He refused to accept my bombardment of apologies for the mess.
That evening we all spent time at dad's and had dinner and it was absolutely lovely. The thing that stood in my mind the most was that it was so clean. I mean, don't get me wrong, my parents don't have two children under two and a Jamie to clean up after so I'm not putting them on a pedestal too much here. But when I came home to have a look around, I found my home to be just plain grubby.
There were drips of something down the fridge that were only too easy too ignore... The light switches were oddly sticky and there was a faint smell of nappies lingering about the place.
It was noticing these things that I had come to ignore, that re-instated my ambition to be a clean person, if not 100% tidy, I wanted to maintain my own self image of a clean mum.
I didn't even intend to start cleaning today. It wasn't something I woke up and decided to do. But after 'nipping' to Homebase for drain cleaner, and coming out with £25 worth of cleaning products I decided to set to work.
I cleaned down all the tiles in the bathroom and bleached the grouting. Descaling the shower head at the same time. (Which I have been meaning to do for about a century) Whilst I had the descaler I thought it would be silly to not do the kettle and the iron at the same time. So there were another two jobs jobbed.
I went on like that for most of the day really. I can honestly say I am pleased with my work, These are things that just go on the 'the list' never to be done.
Having completed half that list in a day I've come to realise there's not much need to 'do it tomorrow' as tomorrow never comes!
;)
I may not necessarily be tidy, but I do like to think of myself as clean.
For some reason I've always struggled to maintain tidiness. Admittedly, it's definitely progressed in difficulty since becoming a mother to two small people. But even growing up, I'd always have the messier bedroom out of myself and my siblings. However I love it when everything has it's place and is neat and tidy. So every few weeks I would burst into life and clean everything and make it all fresh and tidy. I loved those days.
However the tidiness was always short lived. In the coming days my beloved childhood possessions would find themselves on the floor... or under my bed. Much to my dad's dismay I might add.
My life is much the same now really. Every so often the cogs will click and I'll shout "THAT'S ENOUGH" and proceed to tidy Jacob's toys into alphabetical order, or some other completely ridiculous idea that's impossible to maintain. And sit back and be all proud of myself because I've achieved so much that day and I'm so sure that I can keep on top of it. Other parents manage it right?
Well not me! Pretty much the next day, there's Weetabix smeared into the carpet, something unidentifiable drying into a nice crust on the sofa and lord knows what that smell is...
I get into a huge strop over it all, sometimes I even cry.. What's the point in spending my whole day making things beautiful when this is how it ends up?
Well...
Recently I've not had that burst of enthusiasm. At all. Not even a little bit.
I've barely done the absolute minimum to ensure a reduced danger of death from various poisonings...
I knew I wasn't doing the best job but I sort of pushed it to the back of my mind and pretended that it really wasn't that bad.
This week though my dad came over. Now don't get me wrong, my dad is totally the least judgmental person on the planet. He's generally a laid back bloke really. He came over to watch the kids for an hour while I went to an appointment. I realised I had an issue when instead of thinking 'oh I hope Jacob is behaving' I was thinking 'Oh I hope dad doesn't think anything sinister of that Weetabix stain on the wall' and 'I hope he doesn't stumble across that pile of dirty laundry I can't remember what I did with'.
When I got back, dad was happily sat on the sofa with a sleeping Robyn in his arms and Jacob sat next to him reading a book. He refused to accept my bombardment of apologies for the mess.
That evening we all spent time at dad's and had dinner and it was absolutely lovely. The thing that stood in my mind the most was that it was so clean. I mean, don't get me wrong, my parents don't have two children under two and a Jamie to clean up after so I'm not putting them on a pedestal too much here. But when I came home to have a look around, I found my home to be just plain grubby.
There were drips of something down the fridge that were only too easy too ignore... The light switches were oddly sticky and there was a faint smell of nappies lingering about the place.
It was noticing these things that I had come to ignore, that re-instated my ambition to be a clean person, if not 100% tidy, I wanted to maintain my own self image of a clean mum.
I didn't even intend to start cleaning today. It wasn't something I woke up and decided to do. But after 'nipping' to Homebase for drain cleaner, and coming out with £25 worth of cleaning products I decided to set to work.
I cleaned down all the tiles in the bathroom and bleached the grouting. Descaling the shower head at the same time. (Which I have been meaning to do for about a century) Whilst I had the descaler I thought it would be silly to not do the kettle and the iron at the same time. So there were another two jobs jobbed.
I went on like that for most of the day really. I can honestly say I am pleased with my work, These are things that just go on the 'the list' never to be done.
Having completed half that list in a day I've come to realise there's not much need to 'do it tomorrow' as tomorrow never comes!
;)
Wednesday 10 February 2016
Is Breastfeeding As Magical As They Say?*
In my opinion, No.
Breastfeeding is really flipping hard.
We're talking, regularly questioning if it's worth it, hard.
I feel I am qualified to make an opinion as I bottle fed Jacob from day one, and have breast fed Robyn from day one.
So why isn't it all fluffiness and cuddles?
Well it is. But it's also bleeding nipples, phantom let downs and wet patches on your favourite top.
I always thought of breast feeding as this magical process of getting nourishment into your baby whilst you relaxed on the sofa or in bed reading a book, with a smile on your face because everything is just so great. You have no bottles to sterilise, you can just whip your boob out when you feel like it and, you are feeding your baby! What's not to love?
Well firstly, if you decide to express, then there's a whole load of cleaning and sterilising in that. To clean and sterilise your pump every. Single. Time. You use it quickly becomes tedious. But if you want your partner to be a part of the night feeds then that's something you're gonna have to get used to.
Of course you do have the option to EBF. (Exclusively breastfeed) But then you are going to have to endure watching your partner sleep blissfully while you feed your child for the fourth time in an hour. I am honestly guilty of wanting to wake Jamie up for no reason other than him being a part of my sadness.
Whipping your boob out whenever you feel like it is great. If you have the confidence.
I personally think public breast feeding is truly wonderful and I salute all mums who have the confidence to do it. I don't.
I have, however, managed to breastfeed in the car at the back of a car park! +10 Mum points for me!
So for all those times you are going out and don't have the confidence to be stared at by teenagers and disapprovers, you have to express your milk into enough bottles to last you the day. Which is easy enough... Unless your boobs aren't fooled by artificial stimulation... But that's a whole different kettle of fish...
If you've expressed a little too much for the day and you get home with milk left over. You have to bin it. Well if it's past 6 hours old then you do.
In my opinion there is nothing more heart breaking than pouring away your hard earned boob juice. It's just painful.
In conclusion, if you couldn't, or didn't manage to breastfeed your baby, then please don't feel you missed out on an entirely magical experience. Filled with nothing but joy. It's not all the 'experts' claim it to be,
*Disclaimer - Please do not get me wrong. I adore breastfeeding Robyn and I am so lucky and grateful to be able to do so. Knowing that every ounce she gains is down to my hard work is beautiful. I have such pride in myself and her for that. But I know that sometimes mothers feel unnecessarily guilty for formula feeding their babies. This post is to show them that formula feeding is good too.
Breastfeeding is really flipping hard.
We're talking, regularly questioning if it's worth it, hard.
I feel I am qualified to make an opinion as I bottle fed Jacob from day one, and have breast fed Robyn from day one.
So why isn't it all fluffiness and cuddles?
Well it is. But it's also bleeding nipples, phantom let downs and wet patches on your favourite top.
I always thought of breast feeding as this magical process of getting nourishment into your baby whilst you relaxed on the sofa or in bed reading a book, with a smile on your face because everything is just so great. You have no bottles to sterilise, you can just whip your boob out when you feel like it and, you are feeding your baby! What's not to love?
Well firstly, if you decide to express, then there's a whole load of cleaning and sterilising in that. To clean and sterilise your pump every. Single. Time. You use it quickly becomes tedious. But if you want your partner to be a part of the night feeds then that's something you're gonna have to get used to.
Of course you do have the option to EBF. (Exclusively breastfeed) But then you are going to have to endure watching your partner sleep blissfully while you feed your child for the fourth time in an hour. I am honestly guilty of wanting to wake Jamie up for no reason other than him being a part of my sadness.
Whipping your boob out whenever you feel like it is great. If you have the confidence.
I personally think public breast feeding is truly wonderful and I salute all mums who have the confidence to do it. I don't.
I have, however, managed to breastfeed in the car at the back of a car park! +10 Mum points for me!
So for all those times you are going out and don't have the confidence to be stared at by teenagers and disapprovers, you have to express your milk into enough bottles to last you the day. Which is easy enough... Unless your boobs aren't fooled by artificial stimulation... But that's a whole different kettle of fish...
If you've expressed a little too much for the day and you get home with milk left over. You have to bin it. Well if it's past 6 hours old then you do.
In my opinion there is nothing more heart breaking than pouring away your hard earned boob juice. It's just painful.In conclusion, if you couldn't, or didn't manage to breastfeed your baby, then please don't feel you missed out on an entirely magical experience. Filled with nothing but joy. It's not all the 'experts' claim it to be,
*Disclaimer - Please do not get me wrong. I adore breastfeeding Robyn and I am so lucky and grateful to be able to do so. Knowing that every ounce she gains is down to my hard work is beautiful. I have such pride in myself and her for that. But I know that sometimes mothers feel unnecessarily guilty for formula feeding their babies. This post is to show them that formula feeding is good too.
Monday 8 February 2016
50 Things That Make Me Happy!
I've been tagged by the wonderful; Percyandgrace.
So obviously we have the typical; family..Jacob..Jamie. We
all know that they make me happy.
Let's get started. In no particular order:
1 - The smell of our laundry
2- The sense of completion when everything is clean and tidy
3- Supernatural
4- Nailing a really high note when singing
5- Seeing washing on the line, floating in the summer breeze
6- Cooking a really nice meal, and knowing someone enjoyed
it
7- Fresh bedding
8- Making people laugh
9- Buying new things for Jacob
10- A clean cooker
11- Things being clean in general!
12- Warm summer evenings
13- Seeing the scales go down when I'm loosing weight
14- Making new friends
15- Knowing I can 100% trust someone
16- Making Jacob giggle
17- Hearing Jacob giggle
18- Cheesy chips
19- Snuggles with Jamie in the morning
20- When me and Jamie make each other laugh
21- Eastenders
22- Lee evans
23- When Jacob is all sleepy and accepts mummy cuddles
24- Getting a roast dinner exactly right
25- Helping people
26- The smell of a freshly bathed Jacob
27- Hearing my phone go off (Sad I know!)
28- Hoover lines in the carpet
29- Buying new cleaning products
30- Foot rubs
31- When my hair is perfect!
32- Getting the liquid eyeliner perfectly
33- When you see your food coming in the restaurant
34- Finally getting jacob off to sleep
35- How Jamie just lays on me when he wants love
36- The smell of my dad when I hug him
37- The smell of my mum when I hug her
38- When I wake up and realise the day won't be hindered by
my depression
39- Having a passionate conversation with someone
40- Seeing a new comment on a new video
41- The smell of my nan and grandad's house
42- Knowing I'm going to have my best friend at my wedding
43- Looking back on old photos
44- Hearing an old song and instantly being taken back
45- Knowing Jamie and Jacob are content
46- Seeing those two blue lines on the stick (Twice now!)
47- Watching Jacob sleep
48- Buying a new electrical item
49- Getting a new piercing
50- Doing my vlogging and Blogging!
I hope this gives you all a little insight into my brain. I
am the luckiest woman alive to have everything I do. It's a shame some days
it's hard to realise this. But it's writing things like this that helps to
remind me the good things in life.
Being Overweight & Pregnant
I was going to name this post; "The ups and downs of being overweight and pregnant" But there aren't any ups. Not that this post is going to be completely depressing.
But...
Being overweight and pregnant is truly crap. The worst thing about it is, is no one knows you're pregnant. People look shocked when you say "I'm pregnant!" Because they can't see a dinky little bump they assume you're lying or something. For some reason they look disappointed for you. Whereas when they can see a wonderful little bump they feel they can ask a barrel load of questions about due dates and shapes of bumps... But when you're fat they just kind of go "oh.. well congratulations... Did you see Eastenders last night?" Which really quite upsets me.
Being pregnant is flipping hard. I'd like some recognition for it please. I also feel that because people don't see this skinny little frame with an enormous bump, they assume you aren't as fragile. Even Jamie was guilty of it. When I was in the late stages of my pregnancy with Jacob, I would get terrible dizzy spells and couldn't stand up for very long. I think that if it was more apparent that I had this huge baby inside me then he would probably be a bit more inclined to make sure there was less for me to do that meant standing for long periods of time. I mean, you could just argue that that was Jamie being an arse. But my family were guilty of it too.
When I was eight months pregnant and we were moving heavy boxes up and down stairs, I needed to take a lot of breaks. Some people would joke and say "Is it hard watching us do all the work?" When I replied reminding them that I was very pregnant and very tired. They were literally like; Oh yeah...
Being fat and pregnant is truly exhausting. My body struggles enough carrying around huge amount of extra weight, let alone another stone and a half concentrated in one place. Which is why before I became pregnant again I wanted to be substantially thinner. But that's not the way fate wanted things so, I'm taking my chance now. I'm doing exercise DVD's and taking on Slimming World to make sure my body isn't going to suffer the way it did the first time round. For Jamie's sake too.
But...
Being overweight and pregnant is truly crap. The worst thing about it is, is no one knows you're pregnant. People look shocked when you say "I'm pregnant!" Because they can't see a dinky little bump they assume you're lying or something. For some reason they look disappointed for you. Whereas when they can see a wonderful little bump they feel they can ask a barrel load of questions about due dates and shapes of bumps... But when you're fat they just kind of go "oh.. well congratulations... Did you see Eastenders last night?" Which really quite upsets me.
Being pregnant is flipping hard. I'd like some recognition for it please. I also feel that because people don't see this skinny little frame with an enormous bump, they assume you aren't as fragile. Even Jamie was guilty of it. When I was in the late stages of my pregnancy with Jacob, I would get terrible dizzy spells and couldn't stand up for very long. I think that if it was more apparent that I had this huge baby inside me then he would probably be a bit more inclined to make sure there was less for me to do that meant standing for long periods of time. I mean, you could just argue that that was Jamie being an arse. But my family were guilty of it too.
When I was eight months pregnant and we were moving heavy boxes up and down stairs, I needed to take a lot of breaks. Some people would joke and say "Is it hard watching us do all the work?" When I replied reminding them that I was very pregnant and very tired. They were literally like; Oh yeah...
Being fat and pregnant is truly exhausting. My body struggles enough carrying around huge amount of extra weight, let alone another stone and a half concentrated in one place. Which is why before I became pregnant again I wanted to be substantially thinner. But that's not the way fate wanted things so, I'm taking my chance now. I'm doing exercise DVD's and taking on Slimming World to make sure my body isn't going to suffer the way it did the first time round. For Jamie's sake too.
It's much harder for him to connect to a baby that he can't feel or see moving. Well... In the later stages he can. But as I carry pretty much all of my weight around my middle, there's a lot of padding in the way of those little feet.
The worst things about being fat and pregnant are:
-Not being able to take bump pictures as there's little to no difference from one week to the next.
-The look of disappointment on friend's and families faces when they are trying to feel a kick but can't feel a thing.
-The clear irritation emanating from your midwife's face when its taken her fifteen minutes to find your baby's heartbeat.
-Not knowing if there's something wrong with your baby's heart rate or if your fat is just getting in the way.
-Missing out on congratulations' from strangers because you just look like you've recently had a bargain bucket all the time.
Don't get me wrong. I know I am damn lucky to even be able to conceive in the first place. And this is totally my own fault. It's not like I've got some disease that isn't easily sorted. It's just hard to find the motivation to do some exercise between throwing up, falling asleep and running around after the current baby.
So take it from me. If you have the option. Don't be fat and pregnant.
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