Friday, October 11, 2013

Oct 11 2013

It is late in the day, an hour before the witching hour. I'm tired, but I know when I go to bed I won't sleep. My man is not home tonight. Sometimes you take it for granted that people are there, and it isn't until they aren't there that you realise how much you come to rely on them.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, I do realise how much I rely on my support network, which is made up of my man, my kids and my mum. My man is my rock, my go to guy when I need a hug or a shoulder. I hate it when he isn't here at night. I have enough issues with sleep without the anxiety that comes from him not being here.

When you feel anxious things are multiplied or exaggerated. The sound of the wind in the trees becomes something to fear. Leaves blowing across the ground sound like footsteps. Moths fluttering against the window screens sounds like knives cutting. The creak of the house settling is someone breaking in. And my kids look to me to be brave and in control and inside I am freaking out.

This is where my mastery of dissociating comes in. On the outside I look perfectly calm, in control, confident. On the inside I am a screaming mass of goo.

Some would say that it is 'faking it until you make it', but it isn't. It is putting on a mask for the sake those who are innocent. Whilst my older kids know about my illness, and to a certain extent the cause of it, my youngest child has no idea. She is protected from it by those around her. We strive to maintain as much of her innocence as we can. There will be plenty of time for her to be a grown up later on.

The older kids know varying amounts, mainly due to their personalities. We try not to burden them, but they also need to be aware of things like triggers. My illness isn't their fault, but it does impact their lives. My oldest kids knew me before my PTSD became debilitating (delayed onset is normal with PTSD). They remember when mummy used to do most of the cooking, cleaning, washing, ran a business, created every day, studied and was basically superwoman. I am a very different person now. It is a good day if I cook dinner, or bake bread, or do washing, or create, or get out of bed before noon, or get dressed etc.

I really hope that they see that I am taking steps to deal with my illness. I take my meds, I get regular therapy, I make the most of good days. I hope they see that mental illness doesn't make you a bad person, or a lazy person. I hope they grow up with compassion towards those with mental illness, and that if they ever find themselves suffering that they know that help is available, that there are things you can do.

On a bright note, I got out of bed today, got dressed and made bread. :)

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