I thought today I would take a moment to sit and write about how life is at the moment.
Starting with Reuben, of course, my little buddy. He just turned 16 months old, and is a cheeky toddler, who’s currently a bit poorly. Poor mite has a cold. They’re not that bad, are they? But they’re not fun either. Who knew you could become an expert nose wiper in 1 hour? Not me. But I know now. And so do you.
Parenting is rough at the moment. My mental health is a bag of… a bag of… not good things. The brain fog has been awful, which is a massive sign that the CPTSD has flared up once again, because I am too exhausted to think straight. Today, I’ve got a good few hours on my own so I have an opportunity to breathe without expectations.
I don’t know if that makes sense. But lately, I’ve not had very much time on my own and I have both yearned for it and feared it. I don’t want to be left alone with my thoughts but feeling like I am suffocating all the time isn’t fun either. Flashbacks, low self esteem, sensory overload, brain fog, anxiety attacks, nightmares, self doubt… they’re just a few of the things getting to me lately. It’s been hard.
The hardest thing is that I should be happy. Matthew is amazing. I’ve never felt so well loved, never felt so sure about a person before. He’s loving, supportive, funny, handsome, and definitely, a very good man. I am happy. “Honeymoon period” or not, this one’s a keeper. And I feel like my mental health is trashing up my life like some sort of hormone tornado. It’s ripping through my ability to feel good, stomping all over my parenting, throwing my relationship through the air.
I’m lucky though. Matthew isn’t the only one who’s been incredibly supportive through this hard time. My sister, Hannah, has also been making sure I am okay. She’s been helping mentally, and physically… babysitting, cleaning, being someone to talk to. We never used to get on, but now we’re best friends. And I trust her with my child. I trust both Matthew and Hannah with Reuben and that’s a wonderful feeling, to know that I don’t have to be alone.
I mean, I still feel isolated. They’re being as supportive as they can, but I am too afraid to speak about half of the things that are going on my mind. I try sometimes, but sometimes I can’t find the words. I have done before, in therapy, but I knew that my therapist is a person who is trained in knowing what to say, how to react, how to help. There’s no guarantee with that in real life, no matter how much the person cares about you. I hate when I’ve opened up about something big in the past, and I’ve had a “is that all?” response (usually in their facial expression), and it’s hurt. I wonder; did the words not do the trauma justice? Am I just pathetic? I guess ultimately, I’m worried that I’ll be seen differently if I open up about things.
I’m not weak because I am struggling. I am strong because I am fighting. This is another storm that I can and will sail through, no matter how rough the tides are, and I am not afraid of it. I am not alone. There is hope.
Hope, such as, that house move I am hoping for this year. If you don’t know, I am bidding for council houses so I am on a waiting list to be moved. Every week I bid on available properties that I am eligible for, and every week I do get closer and closer, looking at where I’m ranking at the end of the each week. I reckon I have maybe 6-9 months of waiting. It would be less but I am trying to move to a much better part of this city, where the housing and schools are better, so I am prepared to wait a bit longer. Even if living here is literally a source of stress and anxiety, I know holding on for the best is worth it. I want to give Reuben, and myself actually, a better life.
So I guess I really better pull my socks up with my degree. Studying has been bothersome lately. Mentally I’m not doing so good (have I… have I mentioned this?) and the last thing I feel like doing with any available time is opening my textbooks. I have been doing it here and there, but I’m definitely struggling to find the self-discipline to get the work done. Hopefully it doesn’t cost me too dearly in the next assessment. I did really want to get a First this year but it seems like it’s out of reach due to my first two assessments. I’m awaiting my third one to be marked but I really hope I’ve done better because I tried so hard to improve. As you can imagine, a blogger’s style of right doesn’t fly with the tutors, so it’s always a challenge to be concise and formal in my essays. I am trying though, isn’t that what’s important?
I know that my mental health isn’t great but that’s all under the surface stuff, I still feel really appreciative. I still find myself having moments, hours, or the odd day where I feel truly happy. I’m still pushing through. I’m still making sure I go to the gym once a week, laugh whenever I can, and cry whenever I need to. Right now, despite knowing I’ve a huge list of housework to complete, I am okay. I am happy I have found love, support and gratitude this year. And I’m sure when my skin clears up, and this sad phase ends, I will truly find myself blossoming. Life is changing, everyone, and I am really delighted to say that.
Thank you for reading,