Posted in Friendship, mental health, parenting, Social

Knock knock…

I hate the postman. Rationally, I know it is not his fault. Irrationally he is responsible for a lot of shit going down in my house and I hate him.

I also fear him. Whenever I hear the post box a-knocking I gets all kinds of bad chills. I can’t remember the last time he brought me something good. 

Anyone who has been reading my blog and listening to me whinge will know that we are currently undergoing some financial maintainance. And by that I mean we are financially fucked. I expect my internet, gas and electric to be cut off any moment and as I have already mentioned we are waiting for the people to come and embarrassingly collect our car in front of all of our neighbours. It probably shouldn’t but somehow the idea of it being witnessed makes it feel 9’800’000 times worse.

So anyway, I digress from my point. 

Saturday morning I was binge cleaning (the kind of cleaning that you do when you haven’t even had the time to sneeze alone during the week and need a huge catch up when you realise that you are living in filth (little disclaimer, I have OCD and so my idea of living in filth may not be the same as others)) and shouting at all those who didn’t seem to have the same enthusiasm as me/got in my way, when the doorbell rang.

I don’t know how to explain the feeling of the doorbell ringing when you are in such dire straits. I was instantly paralysed whilst holding the Hoover in the kitchen. I called upstairs to hubby as I couldn’t physically open the door myself.

So it turned out to be the normal postman with a parcel. Mr X walks into the kitchen and says “have you ordered anything?”to which we both laugh because we can’t even afford necessities let alone frivolities! 

So I’m stood there in the kitchen, still holding the Hoover nozel, staring at this parcel. Genuinely trying to work out whether a bailiff has managed to “Flat Stanley” himself into a parcel and will unfold and attack as soon as I open the envelope. It takes a good 10 seconds for me to realise that this is probably not possible. Even so, I open the parcel with extreme caution, like a bomb handler, debt collectors have been known to use shady tactics, what if the envelope contained some kind of anthrax like substance which would knock us all out and allow them entry?

The parcel, once opened, did not contain anthrax, or anything yucky.

In fact, it was a beautiful card and present, from a lady who I have become very close to, and yet never had the pleasure to meet in real life. She is a blogger, and one of the only reasons why I continue to blog, as it keeps me in contact with a select few incredible people who have made a huge difference in my life.

She had been reading my posts, and wanted to make me smile. That’s all. Someone, who I have never met, was thinking of me and wanted to put a smile on my face.

I can’t even begin to describe how that made me feel. I don’t have many people in my life, maybe partly because of who I am and maybe partly because I am very selective with who I spend my precious time with, but that wonderful lady, who has her own life and blog and family and full time job took the time to think of me.

Knocked me for six with happiness, that’s what it did. And it humbled me too. Depression can make you incredibly selfish, and self absorbed. Some people can’t handle having a friend like that. It’s too hard and one sided. 

But this lady can see past my faults, and made me truly happy.

You know who you are you gorgeous thing, and I hope you know that what you did was possibly one of the nicest things that anyone has ever done for me. 

I truly do “virtually” love you.

Mrs X xoxo

P.s. Check back tomorrow for an update on my weight loss and sleep patterns!! I use exclaimation marks to hide the fact that the news isn’t good. Little spoiler – I’m pretty shit…

Posted in mental health, parenting

My “Ah Hah” moment (copyright the Right Honourable Oprah!)

Two posts in two days?? What the heck is going on?

Don’t get used to it!

I just had to jot down what happened this morning, as it is quite monumental for my simple little life.

So, this morning our client arrived 2 hours early for her 11am appointment, and brought another human as moral support.

Now, my fucked up little brain can just about get itself used to having one strange person in its near vacinity, but two??

And so, I had a decision to make. I am absolutely an indoor person, a home bird. I generally hate venturing out unless it is absolutely necessary, and even then I only tend to do what I need to and no more. No frivolous excursions for me, what happens if the beds unmake themselves or the washing becomes dirty again while I’m out?

But this morning, two options presented themselves to me, either I stay in and talk to a human who may want me to speak words other than “Do you want some toast” or “Does your nappy need changing?” (Seriously, asking grown ups that doesn’t go down well…!) or I go out.

So I went out.

I took the tiniest tiny to the park.

I left my phone at home. Half way there is realised this, and suddenly realised that I didn’t even know the time.

But then I realised something else, even more profound. 

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that I was out of the house without my phone, it didn’t matter that I didn’t know what time it was. It was all ok.

So we get to the park, it’s empty (thank god – no crappy small talk required!) and the sun is shining beautifully.

And I am pushing tiny on the swings when I suddenly think to myself, I can’t remember the last time I felt so free.

We get so bogged down in our own shit, wallowing in everything that its not so good that we forget what really is good.

As I watched my tiny grinning at the smallest of things, each of them bringing her endless delight I realised how lucky I actually am. I am a mummy, no matter how bad my ocd gets, or my depression hits or my anxiety flares up, or how many debt collectors try to contact me, I am still a mummy. To the most incredible tinies is all the world. 

And they love me, and I am a fricking good mum. They are my world, they are what is most important.

My “Ah Hah” moment, 20 years too late but better than never.

Mrs X xoxo

Posted in mental health, parenting, Sleep patterns, Weight loss

It’s decision time…

Excuse my absence.

Over the last two weeks my life has literally spun out of control.

All decisions we made last year, and this year, have come back to bite us on the arse. We have lost our car, we have bailiffs looming and no fully maintainable income to speak off. We can live day to day quite happily, and then something will happen. The post will come or the phone will ring and it is inevitably bad news. 

The only way I can think to perfectly describe it is using a “Walking Dead” analogy. We have very very little, but it is enough,many yet there is always someone there wanting some of it for themselves. We are Rick and Michome, the debt collectors are the Saviours. It somehow makes it seem better to think of it in those terms, like we are not alone or it is in some way a fiction rather than a reality.

The facts here are very simple though. I have no ability to pay what I don’t have. It has taken me a whole lot of stress, tears, nausea and downright death wishes to realise that I don’t have any control over this situation right now. We are working super hard to make things better, we are putting our all into everything we do. But right now, it is not enough. 

And so right now, I have to relinquish control.

And for me, that is rediculously hard to do. If I don’t have control, I freak out. But that is the only option I have.

And so I have made a decision. I am going to take control over the things that I can make a difference to. It is not ignoring the situation, it is knowing that giving it my every waking thought is not healthy.

The first thing is my mornings. 

I have never, ever been a morning person. And I want to change that. I know that there are a lot of aspects to becoming a morning person, the first and probably most important is actually going to bed at a decent time. This has been something that has escaped me for many years. Once the kids go to bed, which now that they are older is becoming increasingly later, I want a bit of time to myself. I want to watch the programmes that I can’t watch when they are up, I want to spend a bit of time with my husband (so that we can both blankly stare at the same screen, obvs) and just be I want to be able to veg out without hearing “muuuuuuuum” as soon as my butt hits the sofa. 

So last night, for the first night in a very long time, I went to bed before 11. Not much before, but still before. And I set my alarm for 6.30am. 6am is my ultimate goal, but I figure for now I should start slow and build up! I googled sleep patterns and sleep cycles and got told very specifically by Mr Google that 10.45 should be my bedtime for a 6.30 wake up call.

So at 6.30 my alarm went off, and I felt surprisingly awake! Unfortunately I couldn’t move yet, my brain was much more awake than my body but I guess that comes with practice and longevity. So day 1 down and I feel like a winner! Having said that, I will wait until my usual down period to see if it has any effect on that. Come 2pm I am normally  struggling to keep my eyes open. 

I’ll keep you posted! 😋😋

And the second thing that I want to take control over, is my diet. I don’t eat badly but I do snack. Of the 3 stone I lost two years ago, I have put 1 back on. It’s not a lot, I know, but it does have the affect of making me feel a bit meh. 

I can’t go back on the diet I was on, and I don’t need to, so I am just going to actively be more careful about what I eat. That’s the plan anyway. So far this morning I have made buttermilk and paprika chicken to go with pasta tonight, and banana and chocolate flapjack. (It has banana in it, that means it’s healthy, right?)

During the making of said flapjack, I may have accidentally licked the syrup spoon.

And the day started off so well with a fruit smoothie!

But that’s the thing. I love sweet things. The key here, I think, is to adopt the age old adage of “everything in moderation”. Instead of half the flapjack, just have a piece! 

I gonna give it a go (wish me luck) and we’ll see how things pan out.

So rather than boring/depressing you all with my day to day shit life, I am going to keep you all (all 13 of you, love y’all!!) updated with how I get on.  Whether it has any impact on my ever failing mental health(!), my waistline and my energy levels!!

Thanks, as always, for allowing me this time to rant/blab/vent.

Mrs X xoxo

Posted in mental health

The madness is descending…

There is a reason why I decided to write this blog anonymously.

I wanted to be able to write what I wanted without fear of judgement or reprisals, I wanted to have a space that was mine to be as I needed to be.

Never has that been more necessary than now.

You see, Mrs X, I, am a sufferer. I try my darnedest not to be, but life throws shit your way and it sticks, and you just have to deal with it the best you can.

I suffer from depression, anxiety, crippling social anxiety and PCOS.

All of them are connected, all of them make the other worse. No one really gets it. No one really gives a shit, so it is down to me to deal with it the best I can.

It is really, really, really hard. Every single day is a struggle and it is absolutely exhausting. I could sleep, all the time. It is an all consuming sleep, so deep and yet never refreshing. The anxiety that I suffer from causes a physical pain, it is a dull ache in the top of my stomach that gets stronger as I get more anxious. Sometimes my social anxiety causes complete paralysis. I physically cannot move, and the worst thing is that I don’t know what is causing me to be stuck. It is not a case of not wanting to miss anything, or being afraid people may talk about me when I am gone from the room, it is just what it is. And it is pretty scary. People probably assume that I am lazy. Others have to make drinks or snacks or grab something for me from another room. I am not lazy at all. I am incredibly motivated. In fact I believe that I am a “high functioning depressive”, either that or my OCD won’t let me stop. But that is the way that it looks to outsiders, which, guess what? Causes even more anxiety to occur. 

So, for the most part, I can continue living my life in my own secret depressive/anxious prison without it causing too much fuss. And then something super shit happens and I feel the bastards creeping up on me with a vengeance.

This week my Grandmother passed away. She was 91 and had lived an awesome life. But it hit me like a tonne of bricks. My Mum passed over 10 years ago. I blocked it as any good psycho does, until it crippled me and I had to face the fact that I was going insane. Seeing my Grandmother, a strong independent woman, lying in bed resembling a concentration camp victim struggling for every breath brought all those feelings back. 

But that’s not the worst part. On my last visit to the home, when I saw my Grandmother lying like that, with overly depressing music playing on the radio station outside, an awful thought crossed my mind. Through the tears that no one saw me shed because she was not conscious and I was there alone.

I wondered what it must feel like to be so close to being free.

Free from worries and pain and people and life.

And that is how I know that the madness is descending once again. 

I don’t want to not be here, I want to live. But I want to live a life that is free. Everyone has stress, and worries and debts and pain, but right now mine seems to be amplified to the point of virtual insanity. I am living my days in a fog, there are no emotions, just motions. I am functioning.

I am “High Functioning”.

It fucking sucks.

Mrs X xoxo