Last week I wrote…..

 

As most of you know, January signalled the end of my Mentalisation Based Therapy program. So I went from over 3 hours input a week down to irregular contact with a care co-coordinator who may not be out to get me, but we haven’t quite developed a language we both understand as yet.

The end of therapy went exactly as I expected, and had told the therapy team…. I had two weeks of flying high and functioning beyond my usual level, then I crashed and my head began to feel that it had split apart. The usual anxieties and stresses re-appeared and 6 weeks on I feel as if I am disintegrating, that my head has things growing out of it (yes forgetting my anti-psychotics for a few days hasn’t helped) and my brain feels like a split chocolate orange, with all the different parts struggling to communicate with each other.

The sad part is that in the past few weeks my kids have noticed a change in me; they don’t want as many cuddles as they did when I was ‘well’, my eldest doesn’t want me to read his bedtime story and chooses to read to himself which is part of his growing up but also, I’m sure, in part that I’m not as nice to be around as usual.

Each time I ring the mental health team they ask “what have you done before to get through this” and my answer is that I self harm. But it’s high risk and despite the urge being there I also want to live and my self harm puts me on the edge of survival. Being honest, yes I have self harmed but not to die…. to try and change the way I feel. I don’t know if I’m going to find a way up and out of this lost and disintegrated feeling but I do know that I am trying.

Ive tried exercise, reading, writing, shopping, dancing in my kitchen; I’ve tried duvet days and busy days; Ive tried speaking to people about it and Ive tried ignoring it. None of these are changing the situation but with each day I try and getting through a day means I have lived and been a Mummy for an extra day and that is what matters.