First-time mum, in training. Blogging about this motherhood malarkey from a refreshingly honest perspective.

Mental Health and Motherhood



It is a daily battle, Mental Health.
It's relentless. It's exhausting and it's oh so lonely.
It's my life.

I have wrestled mental illness for what feels like forever. I wish I could say it's a battle I have finally conquered but I'd only be lying to myself. It feels there has been more slips than there has better days but I guess that's part of the ongoing feud.

Mental health, for me, was much easier to tackle pre-baby. 
Perhaps, though, that's because my idea of "tackling" my mental health was, drinking until I couldn't think straight and succumbing (almost too willingly) to the black hole of despair. Throwing away a potential future because I didn't want to be a character in this poppycock book called Life. Wallowing in bed, avoiding the world and its snowball of problems, threatening to crush me like a crumbling avalanche. Not talking to anyone because what was the point? What did I have to say that didn't feel meaningless? Why talk, why participate, why breathe? I could spend every single second, alone, absorbed in the mundane numb void. 

I had my releases: butchering myself to immerse in those vast moments of quiet, a wave of calm. Slicing the pain, the anger, the frustration, the whole f*cking travesty out of me. 
I would seek sound comfort in depression which I greeted as my nemesis, and an old friend. 
A familiar purgatory.
I was an empty shell with a fragmenting mind.  A colossal, solitary limbo.

Juggling becoming a new mum has been the toughest challenge but also, my reason for fighting. My little beacon of hope that glimmers with sparks of the moments I have yet to live. 
From my Son's first words to his first day at school. His first love to his final heartbreak. 
I couldn't abandon it all.

So in a lot of ways, being a mum saves me, steers me away from that beckoning edge. 
I have to put it all aside and focus on being the best mum possible. That is, and will always be, my number one priority.
Though that doesn't mean to say I don't still need to take care of myself, something which I haven't yet managed to find the balance of. It's a struggle on the days when your baby is having a tough day too; they're teething, cranky and overtired. They have fussed all day long. Screaming is their only way of communicating their own exasperation, you find yourself internally clawing your face off and you're finding it just so bloody hard trying to keep it altogether when all you need to do is fall apart.

There are days which I breeze through, days that seem to never end, and nights where I can't bear the thought of dragging my heavy heart from my comforting slumber.
A lot of days feel dark and I long for nothing more than to cradle in the arms of that soothing abyss. I imagine it feels similar to the temptation a regular smoker of sixty a day must feel two days prior to quitting after forty years of puffing, coughing and soaking up that nicotine goodness. 

I'm trying and I'm failing. I'm still trying again and I'm still failing again but I know for the sake of that wonderful little boy I need to trudge on.


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