RUOK??

It's RUOK day and this day always stirs up stuff within me and when I get stirred up I need to blog.

So I'm going to bare my soul here..... *big sigh*

I have not been OK. I am OK today, and I wasn't too bad yesterday. Tomorrow I might not be. But in the past, I have not been OK.

I've been quite open with my struggles with Post Natal Depression after the premature birth of my son. It took me a while to admit that I was depressed and not coping because I like to minimize shit so that I feel better about it. I do this, because dealing with big issues is, and has never been my forte and I like to make jokes instead of facing things that make me feel uncomfortable. Basically, I push the feels down into a tiny little box deep inside me, that is probably a tumour getting bigger and bigger as we speak.

I feel like I should be able to do things all by myself and I hate relying on other people. This is probably most of the reason why I've struggled with depression my whole life and a lot of people never knew until I ended up in Emergency after overdosing on sleeping pills, or was drinking myself stupid and calling Lifeline at 2am in the morning.

Just before I get too carried away and my family & friends reading this get the men in white coats on the line - I don't currently have post natal depression. I've been very proactive with my mental health this time around and see a therapist as well as a parenting coach regularly. I practice mindfulness daily which seems to be the only therapy that has had an effect on me, ever. I've all round been a little bit kinder on myself this time, and as the saying goes, forewarned is forearmed. But it's not been easy.

Anyway, having had another little baby, everyone close to me was terrified that I was going to slip into that dark room with the black dog again. No one was more terrified than me. Believe me. Being depressed as a teenager or a 20 something with no real responsibilities, is nothing compared to being depressed and responsible for a life that you are terrified you have passed a mental illness onto. The thoughts you have with post-natal depression are not something that I want to experience ever again. I've blocked a lot of memories out that my therapist says I should probably try and unlock at some stage, so hopefully that gives you an idea of how terrible PND is. My brain literally shut down because it was too awful to deal with. But that's another story.

For anyone that's had depression, you know it's not something anyone would want to have. No one enjoys being depressed. I'll try and describe it for you. It's hard to understand if you've never been visited by the dark companion, so bear with me.

Being depressed, is like being stuck in a well. You can hear people enjoying the world above you, but you have no idea how to get out of the well and join them. Actually, you're not even sure how you got stuck in the well in the first place. You try and convince yourself that you're not really stuck in the well; maybe you're just taking a break from trying to be like all those happy people when you know you're really not like them at all.

You try every now and then to get out of the well but it's exhausting to be constantly battling to get out of there. The walls are slippery and you're a little bit embarrassed that you fell in the well in the first place so you don't want to ask for help. But somehow, every time you think you're getting closer to the top of the well, a bit more water pours into it. Sometimes it's just a glass and you don't really notice it falling into the well; other times it's a bathtub and it chokes you as it pours over your head. This happens over and over again and before you realise it, you're struggling to keep your head out of the water. But you're so tired from battling constantly to get out of the well, that you think that maybe drowning is the best option. No one would really miss you anyway, because you've been down in the well so long that they've probably forgotten about you anyway.

And this is where there are two outcomes....

Some people, continue fighting to get out of the well. If they're lucky, someone might throw a rope ladder down so they can climb out. It's hard climbing and takes them a while, but they get there. Unfortunately, there are wells wherever they go in their life. So sometimes they fall into another well, but they are fortunate enough to have someone who can throw another ladder down. Sometimes the wells aren't as deep as the first one and they can just pull themselves out; sometimes they are deeper and require a bit more effort. But they always climb out of that well and never drown.

Other people, unfortunately, they're exhausted, they're so tired, the water is so deep, they've fallen into so many wells. They just can't fight anymore, and they drown. They don't have someone that notices them down there in the well, so noone stops to throw down a ladder. People just keep walking past and never know there's a person seconds away from giving in to the barrage of water that keeps filling that person's well up. In 2014, there was around 8 people a day who drowned in the well. And that number keeps getting bigger and bigger. 

I was extremely fortunate to be one of the ones who climbed out the well. I have been up to my nose and my arms are cramped from treading water, but I haven't drowned. Sometimes I've needed antidepressants that acted like a little box for me to stand on, because even though someone had thrown me a rope I still couldn't reach it to pull myself out. Some days I feel like I'm running around in the sunshine and there are no wells to be seen. Some days I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a well that has come out of nowhere. And some days I'm embarrassed that I've fallen into another well and I don't know how to get out. The shame of not being able to stop myself from falling is probably what stopped me seeking help last time. 

Because society tells us, that we shouldn't be falling into wells. If you fall into a well, it's probably your own fault, it's not like someone pushed you. People say things like - 

'Can't you just get out of the well already?'

'I slipped in a puddle once so I totally know what you're going through.'

'I'm so sick of pulling you out of wells, I think you like getting wet'

'You're making everyone around the well feel bad so we're going to go to a different park and you can meet us there when you're ready.'

'You have no reason to be in a well in the first place. You had such a nice life up here in the sun.'

And even though we are moving towards getting rid of the stigma, there are still people trapped in wells, trying to pretend that they're okay, when the reality is, that most people can't get out of the well without a little help.

And that's why RUOK day is so important.

Depression isn't anyone's fault. It's not the fault of the people walking by the well; they are entitled to enjoy the sunshine and beautiful weather. It's not the fault of the person in the well; they can't help that they fell in. I'm so lucky to have people that will hold onto me when I'm teetering on the edge of falling into that well, and not leave me there so they can continue running around in the sunshine without me.

Asking someone 'R U OK?' can literally save a life. You popping your head over someone's well could mean the difference between them asking for a rope ladder, or them being unable to tread water anymore. Every time I've been so close to letting myself drown, I can honestly say that another person has been the only reason I have kept swimming. A friend, a family member, once a girl who I worked with who I never thought even noticed me. I can't thank them enough for stopping by my little dark well, when they could have kept enjoying the sunshine.

It's an uncomfortable conversation. I'm uncomfortable writing this. There's still a part of me that wonders how many people reading this will blame me for constantly falling into wells. Or wonder if I fall into wells intentionally. But if I can help one person today to yell from the water, or throw a rope ladder down someone's well, then my discomfort doesn't even compare.

So friends, I'm OK. But RUOK?

https://www.ruok.org.au/

https://www.lifeline.org.au/

http://www.blackdoginstitute.org.au/

https://www.thehappinesstrap.com/mindfulness

Cheers,

Qld Nurse.

PND - Come at me!

See what I did there? I made light of my mental illness by rhyming it.... coz it's funny.

Not really.

Sometimes I want to leave my baby on someone's doorstep & hope they give him a better life than I believe I can give him. For realsie.

See here's what's happened. Bear in mind, events are shaded with a tinge of apparently post-natal depression (what PND stands for in case you hadn't figured it out already you stupid non-mental health professional stupid stupidity).

I've had a baby born 11 weeks premature, after almost 1.5 years of 'trying' and one round of fertility treatment. My pregnancy was awful, with me throwing up everyday until 2 days before said baby was born via emergency c-section due to pre-eclampsia and HELLPs. He spent 3 weeks in NICU, 1 day short of 6 weeks in SCN, a total of 1 day short 9 weeks before we could bring him home. I made the best that I could of the situation. I created charts that showed his progress. I decorated his room with photos. I made good of getting out of the room at least once a day like everyone told me I should. I expressed milk religiously, took medications & changed my diet to build up my milk supply to a) give him down his tube to prevent the millions of illnesses that were thrust upon him if breast was in fact not best, and b) be able to breastfeed once he was old enough & able. I kangaroo cuddled the shit out of this kid. If I was in the room, he was down my shirt asleep on me. I harassed staff daily, until the day that they finally said we could bring him home. I thought they were messing with me, but no, they were seriously giving a baby to me to look after.  I got him home. And....

He cries. ALL the time. If he's awake - chances are he's crying. Sometimes screaming. He has a whole range of health problems from being born prematurely - none of which is any of his fault. Hypothyroidism, phosphate deficiency, Hb deficiency..... a number of surgical issues that need to be followed up. The latest of which, is a tongue tie that is so severe it needs to be done under general anesthetic because it will no doubt need a stitch. The surgeon, tells me he won't do it until 12 months old, due to the prematurity and size of my bouncing baby boy. Sound medical judgement.  This however, means the weeks that I've been struggling to breastfeed are useless, because he will not be able to do it efficiently. Deep down I've know this. We've struggled. To the point I have yelled at him "this is instinctual!! All animals know how to do this! Why don't you?!?" We bottle feed him the milk I express all thinking "on Tuesday they'll snip the tongue tie and all will be well."

Here's the thing. I feel like the mother-fucking-epic-bob's-your-uncle-epic-fail of mothers that ever failed the fail. I feel like I should have listened to all the signs of the universe telling me I should not have a child, and just got another puppy instead. You know why? Because this is my puppy. Well my year and 2 months old puppy. This photo is not even posed. He just grabbed it, and wandered round like a "baws y'all". For real. Because he's amazing.

Here is my child. My 'survived me trying to kill him for 7 months, I'm a little human child'.

Cute, yes. Allowed me to make a beard out of bubbles in his bath, yes. Screams non-stop throughout the day, yes....

The one thing I was clinging to, was breastfeeding. The one normalcy of this whole situation, was being able to breastfeed my child. And that has been taken away from me. And you know what? I feel fucking cheated. If anything should be ok, it should be this. It could be the ceasear, where I couldn't hold my child, I didn't feel him 'coming out' of me. It could be the fact that I couldn't hold my baby for 8 days until he was over 1kg.  It could be a number of things, but I've always felt that I'm playing house. That this kid is someone else's and I'm just playing until someone real comes along and claims actual parentage. This confirms it. This should have been the thing that 'cinched' our relationship.

But it hasn't.

So welcome to the "Qld Nurses, wanted to be, but should have listened to the signs and now has PND and doesn't want to have a baby" blog.

Enjoy the ride. Someone should.

Cheers,

Qld Nurse.