The Teething Saga

It’s 2:10pm and I’m sitting in my living room on my laptop, sipping a cold drink with my gorgeous daughter asleep in her swing with a soft lullaby playing. This is not an accurate picture of parenting. An accurate picturing of parenting for me is 2am, top soaked in sick and milk, a crying baby who doesn’t want to be put down and a dirty nappy on the side. At least that’s the accurate parenting picture of me at the moment.

Even as I just finish writing that paragraph, my daughter bursts into tears.

It’s been pretty rough the last few months. My daughter cluster fed for a few days and then slept most of the day away after that and that was the growth spurt. Then a clear sailing day. Then teething.

It is now 2:25pm and after a nappy change, I am now typing this one handed as I breastfeed my 7 week 6 day old child.

Teething is horrible. It’s having a migraine and a hangover while someone repeatedly yells high pitch noises at you and you’re the only one who can stop it. Horrible. My partner went to Boots once it started and asked what can you give for teething to a 6 week old and the man sold him some powders and yells, got home for me to read they’re all recommended for 3 month old babies. For a week we had this teething stuff in the house we avoided using until we couldn’t take it anymore and ended up using the gel on her. It soothed it. For a week we tentatively used the gel when we just couldn’t stand her being in pain. I ended up going back to the shop and rather than ask, I looked at the packets to find there are powders for one month and above… It was a game changer.

I was pretty pissed though as she suffered an extra week because they wanted more money (because figures everything they sold my partner was the expensive stuff). When she woke up this morning, she was congested and seemed like she had a cold so we skipped the library group. My dad says thats a good sign that the worst of the teething (for the moment) is over. Here’s hoping.

Teething though is a pretty frustrating time and it means a lot of sleepless nights. I do the night shift as my partners working but when you’re on only 4 hours sleep in almost 50 hours, things begin to get to you. The crying for instance. In the last week there have been 3 nights where I have sat over my daughter, crying, saying I can’t do it any more. The first night it happened, I got a bit of sleep the next day and it seemed okay. Next time it happened, again I got some sleep and I felt better when I woke up but despite being on more sleep I just began to feel lousier and lousier as the day went on. She’s still my daughter, I will protect her and that’s why I keep repeating this sentence: “I love her, I do. I want what’s best for her and that’s not me.” I said my partner should move back to his family and they can help him look after her.

I haven’t looked into postnatal depression or even postnatal anxiety like my health visitor thinks I have. I know I’m probably beginning to develop it. I don’t know what I’ll do if I am.


Purple hair and a growth spurt.

My partner doesn’t like my dad. Never really mentioned this in previous posts but he’s never really liked him. It’s been getting worse though recently. My dad is pretty petty. An example is that I came home having forgot the bread he asked for, I sincerely apologised but he still had to make nasty comments about it and then gave me silent treatment for a bit before going out to pick my brother up and then when he came back, everything was better. I later explained to him that I forgot because my daughter was crying due to reflux and being hungry and the only way I could settle her was walking and bouncing the pram. He told me “not to use her as an excuse”. Don’t need an excuse, that’s what happened.

The next day we were going on a walk again and asked if he wanted anything. He started on about the bread again and I said “I’ll get you the bloody bread and hit you with it just for principal”. Before I left I said to him: “seriously though, do you want anything?” And he said no. It’s pretty obvious where this is going. When I got back, he asked where the bread is.

I think one of the worst things he’s done recently is comparing the fact I was struggling as when he was 22 he had 3 kids to look after. Firstly, only one was his and a newborn and the other two were his step kids. Secondly, you can’t compare situations like that. Thirdly, why did he have to make me feel so bad? I struggle with one but he can cope with three. Makes me feel shit.

My partner avoids him, if he can. I’ve begun to avoid him. My daughter is going through the 3-6 week growth spurt marked by being more fussy, less sleep, eating more and just generally being different from herself. I spent all night awake last night (except about an hour at about 6am until 7am) feeding her as she kept coming off, crying partly due to reflux and partly just fussy. The reflux means she needs gaviscon (a kind of antacid) and you can give it through a little medicine injector straight into their mouth but I know she’ll spit it out so we mix it in expressed milk. I came down stairs to get some of the expressed milk at about 10am and I usually, if I need to do something, give my daughter to my dad and do it but he was making tea (so boiling water) and dealing with my brother’s uniform and other stuff and she was very fussy, so I decided just to struggle one handed.

My dad then made a comment about how I usually get him to hold her and I said “you were making tea, with boiling water!” and honestly, I was tired and just annoyed and rather than feed her the milk downstairs like I usually would do, I just went off upstairs.

I think my biggest source of stress isn’t my month old baby but my dad. He likes to put me down, make me feel bad, use the silent treatment on me. Honestly, I’m pretty sure this is why I’m depressed. Also would bet that’s why my partner is depressed.

Add my depression to my current body issues and has my daughter got some fucked up parents? Due to breastfeeding I’ve currently hit DD boobs. Awesome. Also gone down to an 8-1o UK size waist (tend to have to get 10-12 though due to my boobs). I actually haven’t got stretch marks really from pregnancy but I’m feeling so down about my body, as far as I’m concerned, I’m fat and ugly and so to cheer myself up, my partner dyed my hair purple and it came out amazing if I do say so myself. My brother liked it. My dad just shrugged… He’s always one for the confident boosters. We’re still looking to move and we really want to be out by Christmas but it isn’t looking like that’ll happen any time soon.

Baby’s First Month

The first month has been rough. Today my daughter is a month old and it’s been a tough experience. My partner went back to work on Tuesday and so for the last 3 days I’ve been looking after my daughter on my own.

In all honesty, I spent most of my partners paternity leave secretly pissed off. He took a month off (two weeks paternity and two weeks holiday unlike most dads who just take paternity) to help in case I developed mental health issues. One of the biggest triggers to that is lack of sleep but I found myself with majority of the night shifts and sleeping 1-4 hours a day. My partner in that whole month maybe did 3 night shifts and that includes the first night in the hospital where I was in too much pain to walk or stand. The next was a few days later and there was an odd one during that month. That’s because the night he did it out the hospital (where he was fairly caught up on sleep) in the first week, he got annoyed and told her to shut up and later admitted he had been feeling down about everything and it sounded like he was describing postnatal depression. I could cope with less sleep so I took over.

When she was 8 days old, we took her to see my partner (GC) family. I was working on very little sleep and we spent 1 and a half to 3 hours at 3 different houses with his family. The first house I coped well, actually enjoyed it despite the fact it was his SIL. Second house was his sister who wouldn’t give me the baby back for the time we were there except for a feed. Her kids held the baby which was nice. But there was barely any talking so my partner found it boring. We then went up to his aunties.

Everyone was forewarned we were coming up.

We came up and she had her at least 6 cats in the same room as where myself, her, my daughter and partner had to sit. The cats getting cat hair everywhere and jumping in the pram. Despite the fact she’d promised if we came over, the cats would be out the way. So I was pretty angry and then one of the cats snared my jeans (which doesn’t sound like a big deal but they’re the only ones that fit well so don’t need them ruined). Coupled with the lack of sleep, postpartum pain, lack of food and drink, how angry I was and the fact I hadn’t actually held my daughter in about 4 hours. I just didn’t want to hold her. I feel horrible about that but it’s true. I didn’t want her near me I felt so down and like the bond between us had gone. Whenever my partner handed her to me I passed her off back to him or just held her like Rachel did Ross’ son in FRIENDS.

When we got home, rather than ask how I’d like to feed my child, he went and used one of the bottles of expressed milk. I went upstairs, but angered myself and came back down and told him if he thinks I’m doing such a bad job he can do it all and I’ll move the moses basket to his side of the bed. He told me he didn’t think I was doing a bad job but we should move the basket. So I went upstairs and chucked the basket onto his side. Laid down for a few minutes and then just got up and walked out of the house.

I never told my partner I thought about getting on the bus or the train and just not coming back. I just walked down to the shops with half working headphones and brought a ribena before heading back. I was gone about half an hour and as I was heading back GC met me and I told him off for coming – “arent I allowed to go and get a drink without being hassled”. GC tried to talk to me but I didn’t want to hear it. We came home and I just went to bed, rushing past my daughter. GC followed me up and we talked. I can’t remember what was said. All I remember was ending up crying because I wanted my daughter and ended up cuddling her most of the night.

I had a few wobbles but it was easier with my partner taking over the mornings and getting some sleep without waking, worrying if my kid is okay. I don’t think I truly appreciated it until he went back to work. I also don’t think the added stress of trying to not wake him up helps.

But since he went back to work, the tearful episodes have increased. I’ve felt more overwhelmed and upset, overprotective, sad… I guess depressed. I don’t know if it’s ‘normal’ depression or postnatal depression but I’m really struggling.

Life After Pregnancy: Labour

I’m lying in bed, able now to put my laptop on my stomach, next to my 3 week old baby and I’m finally able to write a blog that I’ve been meaning to write since she was born. My daughter was born on the 22nd of July.

I was booked in to be induced for week 39. Literal week 39 after it was found my water level had rapidly decreased (and was too low for someone with diabetes especially) and my daughter’s size was estimated to be over 8lbs. I found this out on 38+6weeks and was taken in the next day. I had to go to asda immediately after my diabetic clinic appt to pick up diabetic friendly meals for labour – high protein and low sugar. I’ve been saying I wanted to be induced for weeks but when it was moved up, I panicked. I realised that long to-do list I’d rewritten over and over and over again was not completed. So rather than follow my plan of spending the entire week finishing that list except Thursday where I would rest, I rushed as much as I could through the list on the Tuesday for my inducing on Wednesday.

I went in on Wednesday and I was straight on the ward. A few things I realised was that the hospital I was in is TERRIBLE at communicating with others. The midwife knew I was coming in but didn’t really know why I was being induced which I had to tell just about every midwife who dealt with me about. Talk about repeating yourself.

They did an exam and found I was already 3-4cm dilated and so didn’t need any hormones and all I actually needed was my waters to be broken. If I was actually left, I think I would have gone into labour on my due date. I was 3rd on the list at about 10am Wednesday morning. I was 1st on the list come Wednesday evening. Nothing all of Thursday. You can imagine just how impatient myself and my partner were getting. Especially me. I hate hospitals.

But Friday at 30 minutes past midnight, I was taken down to the labour ward. I was monitored and so was my baby and at about 1:30am, my waters were broken. A big gush of clear liquid and that was that. I was told to keep mobile, given gas and air to bring on the contractions but honestly I probably didn’t need to do that as the contractions came on hard and fast. At about 2-2:30am, I asked for pethidine as I had been advised against an epidural due to low blood pressure but I don’t think it did much as I felt every contraction and my about 6:15am I was pushing.

Now here is where things got pretty bad. The midwife I had said I wasn’t allowed the gas and air anymore and the pethidine was now pretty much out my system. I was on no pain relief. But the pethidine had made me tired which isn’t exactly what you want and due to gestational diabetes, energy drinks were off the table. The midwife half way through took her gloves off and put her ring on and she kept saying “hurry up, I want to see this baby before I go off shift at 7am”. My partner was the one who ended up having to be the other end through the pushing because if he wasn’t I would have no idea what was going on.

The hour of pushing past and the midwife went off shift and brought in someone else. She was a lot better, gave me more help and one last chance to push. I was so close to getting my daughter out thanks to her but I hadn’t much time for a few more pushes. They brought out the ventouse (like a plunger), some local anesthetic (which was shot into my vagina) and gave me an episotomy (a cut)  and then used the ventouse to pull my daughter out. They pulled her out and I bleed heavily, I had a cut and a 3rd (borderline 4th) degree tear (which is a tear through the vaginal tissue, perineal tissue and muscles that extend into the anus… TMI) and needed to go into surgery an hour after I was finished with labour.

That hour though, I got to hold my precious baby, I breastfed and got to see her and got to see my partner with her. It was honestly so amazing.

I was then taken down to surgery where I had to be given spinal anaesthetic to numb the lower half of my body. It took no less than 20 attempts of sticking a needle in my spine to find the right spot and having to get into multiple positions (including having to sit – imagine that!) and my spine is actually pretty easy to see as I’m pretty boney. They finally found the right spot, laid me down, put my numb legs in stirrups and began…

I remember feeling panicked but honestly I was so tired, I fell asleep on and off during the operation. I awoke just before I’d finished and there was a clock just opposite me. I had been in surgery for over two hours… It was only supposed to be 45 minutes. Turned out I began to heavily bleed during surgery and it took longer.

When the surgery was over, they took me to the cold recovery room and the stress, the cold and the spinal made me shake as if in shock. One of the people who performed my surgery got my baby and partner and as much as I wanted to hold my baby I knew it wasn’t wise with all the shaking. I got taken up to the labour ward after 15 minutes, I laid there with a cathider in and no feeling in my legs, feeling pretty rough.

My partner and I then spoke about what he saw during the labour. I lost a lot of blood, my daughter had the cord around her neck and came out blue and he described the tearing to me. Honestly, I didn’t care about what happened to me but I was pretty furious that the midwife had taken her gloves off with my daugther having the cord around her throat. How was she supposed to help being unsanitized and if she did, I risked infection…

I won’t go into the grisly details of healing or even what happened when my dad and brother saw her. But as of all of labour, I loved my daughter and seemed pretty postnatal depression free.

38 weeks: Gestational Diabetes.

The last week or so has been a whirlwind for me. I saw my midwife on 6th July and my fundal height was 5cm below where it should be, had a scan the next day and baby was measuring above the 90th percentile and had a scan review – they were pretty confused as to how the baby can be big but the fundal height was small. I got booked for a gestational diabetes (GTT – Glucose Test) for the next day and it came back that I have gestational diabetes.

In all fairness it does make sense, I mean the symptoms are pretty similar to pregnancy except the extreme thirst I get especially after dinner and it turns out the reason for that is because of GD. I got the results on the Monday (I was supposed to get them on the Saturday before) and on the Wednesday I was booked in to see the diabetics nurse and dietician. The dietician wasn’t great, she repeated a lot and could have cut her section down to 10 minutes with just a “these are the levels in food you need to know, here’s a few suggestions”, after was a one on one with the diabetic nurse who put me in as high priority with an appointment yesterday at the diabetics clinic. The next bit was teaching you how to use the monitor. Four times a day I have to prick myself with a little needle and write down the result. It’s tedious and I feel sorry for the people who have to do it for months. Or even years if they actually have type 1 or 2. To be honest though, diet controlled works for me and I know sometimes that diet controlled only works for a small amount of time but I have a small amount of time left.

The diabetes clinic was an appointment with: a nurse, an obstetrician and a dietitian. The nurse did my blood pressure and urine. The dietitian told me to just follow the diet laid down the day before. The obstetrician is where things got more interesting. She told me I could ONLY go to term but that really due to the size of the baby they want to induce. She gave me a membrane sweep in the hope of moving things along – if you don’t know what that is, I’ll tell you. The doctor gloves up, shoves fingers far into you (further than any person has ever fingered a person, I can promise you), fidgets around and IT HURTS. She told me she would stop if it hurt too badly but I know the memory of the pain would be worse than the pain itself so I just let her continue. She told me she had booked me for an induction on Friday 22nd July. I go in and 9am and don’t come out for a really long time. From what I can understand what happens, you get 3 pessary shots of hormones, 6 hours apart if after those 3 nothing has happened you can get a drip and they may artificially break your water, if that doesn’t get things started then c-section… C-section is also pretty likely for me since I am small and the baby is big.

So this next week is me spending time finishing a to-do list, I have written a lot of them over the past few weeks and I never finish them. But I wrote a more doable one this time and have already crossed off a lot of things. I asked my partner to help me with some of them and he does but he gets annoyed at having to do some of them. I then don’t ask him. Mentally, I’ve been rather down recently. I always expected the baby to be early (before 40 weeks) and due to being in latent labour since 36+3 weeks, I thought one final push (the membrane sweep) would start things off and I’m disappointed that it hasn’t. I now am looking at a 2-5 day stay in hospital due to needing mental health, diabetes and possibly surgery aftercare. Plus the labour itself. No one really seems to understand. I don’t like hospitals, I mean I really don’t but the extent to which I don’t like them doesn’t seem to be that clear to anyone really. Plus the chances of postnatal depression rise when complications arise during labour (looks like that’ll happen).

Plus with things not being so great living with my dad for both myself and my partner… Just makes things harder. But that’s a blog for another day.

32 weeks and counting.

Today, the 1st of June, marks my 32nd week. A lot has changed since my 27 week blog.

The weekend just gone, I officially moved in with my dad and brother. We’ve been living here for 3 nights and it’s not been too bad. We still have an issue with the dog whining at nights but rather than a door, we have put up a stair guard so she can no longer scratch the paint and I’m just leaving her to settle herself. It’s a trying experience but I’m hoping eventually she will get used to it. We spent Tuesday morning having an hour long nap together in my bed and I’m hoping things like that will let her know she’s still safe and loved and will comfort her.

In all honesty, I think I had the bigger problem moving here than GC did. We moved Sunday night and he seemed quite surprised by the fact he didn’t miss his old home but relented and said that maybe it hadn’t hit him yet. GC’s SIL and brother didn’t take long to tear up the carpet and basically banish any trace of him which is why the Monday after, we had to go back to pick up the rest of our stuff and get rid of the carpet and the rubbish bags. Which is when GC said goodbye to his niece but again he also said he wasn’t sad that he’s gone and he doesn’t miss his niece that much. I think I got more emotional with moving than he did. I’m not unhappy about the move, I just really want to be able to do stuff for myself but my dad does take over quite a lot. I think he still sees me as an incapable (but stubborn) six year old and so I have to prove to myself which I’m not a big fan of but it’s really the only option we had.

The reason being is when we went to visitor GC sister, CC, she told us that a woman at her kids school who had recently had a child said the health visitor comes to check on everything at 34 weeks… 2 weeks time. So knowing it was the only way we would pass the inspection, we moved to my dad’s. It’s early days. I’m just hoping for the best.

As for the baby, everything seems to be going okay. I had a midwife appointment at 31 weeks (exactly) and was told that when they measured my uterus (they measure from the top of the pubic bone to the top of the uterus), I hadn’t grown since last time so now I have to go for a growth scan – which I don’t mind. In fact, I love. I want to see the baby again but also I’m worried as to why I haven’t grown. I’ve been waiting almost a week for a call from them and nothing. I said I was going to call today but I’ve been pretty down and tired so I will call tomorrow – even though I’m not sure who to call.

I also started going to antenatal classes from the ones I said I didn’t want to go to, I have caught up with the classes and honestly, I’m so glad I did it as it’s taught be a lot.

My mental state wains a bit but so far I’m not feeling too bad. Occasionally down and depressed but not too bad.

27 weeks: pregnancy and medication

I had an appointment with the perinatal psychiatrist recently. I’d recently got discharged from my old mental health team and am now with them and again I have a psychiatrist and a community psychiatric nurse. The first opinion I had of my new psychiatrist was that I didn’t have one. When I told people my opinion of her after the first meeting I said that she hadn’t really left much of an impression – good opinions take a while to form whilst bad ones of someone can take an instant. But I had some faith she’d do the job.

My new CPN  I didn’t much like. She said that everything I was experiencing with my mood was normal when I knew that it wasn’t and she also made me feel pretty bad for not wanting to do antenatal classes. I got invited to some a few weeks back, but I have since been umming and ahhing over whether to do it for numerous reasons but involving the fact that it was at the old youth group centre I used to go to and I didn’t want to bump into the old youth group leaders with their judgmental opinions about a 19 year old getting pregnant. But also another reason is that I had been feeling disconnected to the baby and that I didn’t want to spend an hour or so being reminded of the fact that I was. Plus antenatal classes haven’t always been a regular thing for pregnant women to attend and women have had babies just fine without them.

Another thing she said that annoyed me was that it didn’t matter if I was ill because I could get someone else to look after the baby. It’s true, I have my dad and the father of my baby but if it doesn’t matter whether I’m there for the baby, why am I even bothering to get better? After cooling off from the appointment I realised how she actually meant it but seriously? You work in this profession, you HAVE to know how to word this properly.

But the thing I want to talk about is my second appointment with the perinatal psychiatrist. I get called in and she has basically forgotten who I am which isn’t necessarily bad except when she got things wrong about my life e.g. she said I lived in a studio apartment when I live in a 4 bedroom house with overcrowding issues and I then corrected her, she actually argued with me and told me I was wrong… I have to live there everyday, I know exactly where I live.

She then was reading the appointment notes from the new CPN and she told me that “wanting to cut the baby out” was not normal – which I knew. Then went onto imply I wanted to hurt the baby except I’ve never had any intention of hurting the baby. Hurting myself, yes. Hurting the baby, never. She said if I’m having these thoughts and feeling depressed (and I am but only every so often and I haven’t actually felt that depressed in a while) then I needed to go back on medication whilst pregnant. I’ve always been against it. I don’t judge anyone who does, I really don’t. Every situation is different. But I know that I’m sensitive to side effects, I know I can handle the low moods as they are every so often, I don’t think taking antidepressants (as were the only medication mentioned at the time) is wise for an unborn baby to be exposed to.

But rather than talking rationally about my fears and answering questions she snapped at me telling me I needed the antidepressants and when I said to her about being bipolar and that JUST being on anti-depressants could cause mania or like last time, rapid cycling moods. That would be way worse than what’s going on now. She didn’t really give me much of an answer, just that she’d talk to my old psychiatrist (whom never actually prescribed antidepressants alone) and that if need be a mood stablizer would be added.

To be honest, when medication was mentioned way back in the first appointment, I researched what people said and yes the antidepressants have been found, in recent studies, to have minimal risks to the baby (so not completely risk free like she tried to make out and when I asked about the minimal risks, she had no answers for me) but mood stablizers are very dependent on which ones and even then the research is very split between the risks to an unborn baby even in the third trimester (everyone agrees that no meds of these sort should be taken in the first trimester).

But the fact I don’t like her isn’t based so much on the her different opinion on medications and stuff, it’s that she had very little respect for me. Wouldn’t discuss options, just told me what I had to do and several times implied that if I didn’t follow her opinions I was going to be a bad mum. So when she handed me a piece of paper to take to reception to make another appointment, I just walked out and didn’t make one.

I moaned to my dad; ranted. Then GC phoned me when my dad went to pick up my brother but could only stay on the phone for 5 minutes and once he hung up, I just balled my eyes out. I felt so guilty and bad and just cried. Until I hit this point where I got pissed off. Being  pregnant hasn’t been easy for me – physically or mentally but I’m doing better now. I actually have formed a connection with my child now (which if she actually let me speak I could have said) but even so still experience lightheadedness, feeling faint (up to the point of passing out), nausea – all sorts of stuff that make pregnancy still difficult but I’m doing well with it now and coming out of a perinatal psychiatric appointment feeling worse about myself as a mother is not something I think is good and is kinda the opposite reason why I go.

That afternoon, the CPN called me but it was on an unknown number and I wasn’t in the mood so ignored it, she left a message asking if I could call her back to confirm an appointment for the 6th of May. I haven’t called her back. Partly because I just don’t want to but also because she asked me my preferred method of contact and I said text and she calls me so I’m just waiting to see if she calls me back.

All in all, I’m very underwhelmed by the perinatal team and regret being changed to them.

Hospital visit


Yesterday I went to the doctors because I had a terrible cold that made morning sickness worse. She’s a really good doctor and she does quite a few checks as routine. My stomach was very tender (more than it apparently should have been) and she asked the last time I felt movement and tbh I hadn’t really thought about it but the baby usually kicks once a day because my baby is TEMPERAMENTAL. Doesn’t like a sound? Kick. Doesn’t like a food? A sensation? And the baby’s number one pet peeve is scans and having their privacy invaded (through scans etc). But I realised it’d been about 4 days since I’d felt movement… I hadn’t realised it before because my cold had been so bad I – as selfish as it sounds – had been really focused on me and my cold.

GC and I were so terrified we’d lost the baby. We were in tears, he stayed strong but I was crying so often, apologising for losing his baby and begging him not to hate me (thank you bpd). I was a mess.

It took ages to get through A and E. But an ultrasound and doppler later and I have a healthy, alive – if not somewhat fidgety – baby. That is why GC started getting upset.

So least whilst the story is short, there is a happy ending.

Busy week

I find it funny as you get older your opinion on things change. For example I used to love when the holidays came up at school but now I don’t want the school’s on holiday because SIL1 is about more and if I go into town before 4pm, town is full of teenagers.

Last week was half term. I liked it because I was given the opportunity to hang out with my brother. I didn’t really know what I was going to do though because any movement I make in the morning SIL1 would have commented on and it would have stressed me out and my dad wasn’t picking me up because he wasn’t coming into town. He offered to pick me and GC up every morning, take him to work and me back to his. He did which was awesome. The week in that respect actually worked out really well.

Monday, GC had the dentist and had a surprise tooth out (we thought it was just for an x-ray). Tuesday, I had the dentist which I am glad for because my gums have been bleeding a little bit and the wisdom tooth that got a cavity because I couldn’t brush it due to it not coming through the gum surface yet has began to come through and is sensitive but thankfully my teeth were fine and I’ve gone from an appointment every 6 months to one every year. On Wednesday I had an appointment with my psych nurse. Thursday, I had a baby first aid course from 9am until midday and GC had the dentist again later in the day for another tooth out. The baby first aid course went really well, I passed but GC had given me a cold which weakened immune system and has opened me up to an ear infection and tonsilititus. But thankfully Friday and the weekend I can rest.

I try not to get too busy in one week and only have one big thing per week. But I seem to manage to have a week or fornight free and then just coincidentally book everything in the one week. Sometimes I like it because it gets rid of the stress in just one swoop with no weekend of worrying but other times I feel very tired or sick and wish I had a few days to recover.

Though Monday I had a lot more energy to move about. Instead of napping during the day, I got up and sorted of the bed I would be living in for the next few months. That includes moving light furniture, tidying the floor, unpacking clothes and basically just moving things around. But for the last few nights I’ve been having pretty intense nightmares so I’ve not been sleeping too well. It does begin to add up. I’ve found myself being more snappy and irritable than usual which isn’t necessarily just down to no sleep, add in pregnancy and that’s not exactly a recipe I’m happy about.

I have an appointment for the 15th March with the perinatal mental health clinic. I know they’re the people who help you before the birth (as well as for a year after) with mental health but that’s pretty much it. I googled the service but only found the local address. When on the phone with them they told me they would send me a questionnaire but the paper work they sent me was more just about correspondence rather than a mood questionnaire.

The physical aspect of the pregnancy varies. Sometimes I feel not too bad, a bit of energy and a more positive outlook on pregnancy and the baby and how both of those things relate to myself. Other times I feel quite depressed. I get told it’s normal to feel that way, that worries such as “am I going to be a good mother?” and “is the baby going to be okay with me as it’s mum?” and such doubts like that. They say that normal and I do believe to an extent it has to be but it’s gotten so bad that I’ve debated getting rid of the baby. I never would because I know I would regret it and when I feel it’s heartbeat or the baby moving, I know I care and probably even love the baby but I still feel bad about those thoughts and the fact that sometimes I feel very disconnected with the baby.

A doctor told me once to think of the baby as a parasite, taking everything I need and making me sick and how would I be expected to always love something like that. You put it like that and I understand why they aren’t so worried but I am worried and surely that has to count for something.

Stressed out and pregnant

I like waking up to an empty house. Always have done. I do especially like it considering who I live with now because it gives me a few minutes where the noise I make doesn’t matter and I won’t be questioned about it.

I began writing a blog a while ago (probably two weeks now) about the baby scan but I kept getting distracted and GC’s brother didn’t pay the internet bill so I kinda just gave up with it. But the good news is the baby is a good size, healthy and in the low risk group of downs syndrome. I’d love this baby whatever disability it had but Downs Syndrome from what I understand can make for a higher risk of miscarriage so it’s just good news to me. The lower I can keep that risk, the happier I’ll be.

We went town the Sunday after the scan to pick up some bits and believe me town is a lot harder for me. The plan was once my dad had told my older brother who was trying for a baby about the pregnancy, we would tell everyone else. To be honest though, before he’d even told us that he’d told my brother, I decided that since we’re already out and about we could visit GC’s family since the bus goes all the way round. But before we managed to contact anyone on my partner’s side, my dad called to tell me that he had got in touch with my brother.

We told GC’s mum first via the phone as he was annoyed with her over other things and wasn’t that interested in face to face. His sister was next, she was happy for us and her kids just seemed kinda blaise to the news which I found funny. Then we took a taxi to his aunt and cousins and I think it finally hit her just before we left because she started crying. We talked about SIL1 and she said I was welcome up anytime and so I had plans to see her that following Tuesday rather than go up to my dads. We got home late so we couldn’t tell SIL1 and that niece but I didn’t really care and GC didn’t care. I did however tell him on Monday, after work we should just tell her so it’s done even though I knew the reaction we were going to get would be: “I already knew it” because she’d been saying it for the past two weeks.

She had no concrete proof of this. But we were pretty loud about it so she probably over-heard something but also she had been saying it since we started dating and if you keep saying something enough times, it’s likely that it’ll be right eventually.

I went to his aunts that Tuesday. She and GC’s cousins are lovely but I wasn’t comfortable there because it’s not my house. I couldn’t fall asleep in front of them and she kept commenting I wasn’t eating and drinking and yes, the drinking one is fair but I still throw up if I eat too much (believe me) or don’t have my pills on me so I wasn’t eating but not eating is much better than throwing up. But it makes me reluctant to want to go up again because I really don’t need to be spoken to like I don’t know what I’m doing, like I haven’t spoken to the doctors multiple times about it and am pretty sure this is the correct course of action for me.

Whilst with his aunt, SIL1 kept messaging me and saying she’d be there for me and basically it boiled down to, let’s start again. Which I was prepared to do. When I went out the following Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, it was because I had already planned to due to a doctors appointment and Friday being the day my younger brother has a half day so I tend to say (even though I usually get too tired to) I will hang out with him. However, during the messages SIL1 sent me she told me that her kid (my fiance’s niece) missed her uncle and it wasn’t fair. I just brushed that off as SIL1 being a bit manipulative because she’s still upset GC won’t do anything for her anymore.

That’s when GC told me his brother told him what happened. That Sunday when we weren’t even home and were going around telling everyone, SIL1, GC’s brother and the niece were having Sunday dinner but the niece refused to eat because her uncle wasn’t there. The two haven’t hung out and definitely not ate together in ages and after talking to my dad, I realised that the niece had heard SIL1 say I was pregnant to others and was now doing this because she was jealous. After speaking to a couple of other people about it, I decided that a jealous child would not be holding my baby. I don’t care how unhappy that makes everyone.

Overall, I’m pretty stressed out at the moment and it really does suck that it’s GC’s family making me feel that way. Not all of them. I still like his brother and sister. But everyone else wants me to do things for them but won’t do anything for me. GC keeps saying his family argues but are there for each other. I don’t want that. I don’t want people I argue with or get upset about with me during an emergency and they’ve never been there for me so again, why should I be there for them? It sounds mean but I’m sick of being the stressed out pregnant chick.


Yesterday, I questioned how much stress is too much stress for the baby? The events that caused this were pretty mundane.

I finished yesterday’s blog on the bus and only had about a paragraph to write so it didn’t take me that long. I rarely check facebook again once I am out of the house because it’s pretty bleak usually on there and I actually dislike a lot of people on there but to stop arguments I couldn’t unfriend them.

But after I finished yesterday’s blog I went back on facebook and SIL1 had literally waited until the moment I walked out the door. I mean literally the moment to post a status on facebook saying that GC and I (her actual phrasing was ‘other people in the house’) don’t clean up after ourselves; expect her to do it; it upsets her. Basically blaming us. Now number 1, I have not even been on that side of the house since before Christmas so I don’t know what mess I was supposed to have made and number 2, my partner doesn’t even go on that side much. Just to the kitchen where he cooks (because I literally cannot face cooking my own meals) but I know he cleans up after himself. And last night’s plates? They were in our room because she does shit like this or bitches about it if we leave it by the sink to clean the next day.

So I wanted to go through the roof. I wanted to reply to her status saying how I don’t even go on that side of the house and she knows that because she always complains about it. How GC always cleans up after himself. How she doesn’t work, isn’t actually a “fully time mommy” like she puts on her facebook employment bit because her child goes to school. She pretty much has at least 5 and a half hours where she could clean the house. But she doesn’t. How the garden was a tip until very recently filled with rubbish bags and furniture because nobody could be bothered to drag it to the curb. She goes to the gym, yes but she didn’t yesterday and then will spend the rest of the day complaining about all her ‘aches and pains’ that are worse than anyone elses. But I know GC didn’t want me to say anything. I sat on the bus for a few minutes trying to figure out what I wanted to do. I needed to rant. I needed to get it off my chest.

I opened the wordpress app to rant again. But closed it down thinking it too petty. GC was at work and I knew I had 15 minutes until he was on break and I figured I could send a bunch of ranting texts before he got on break and see if I felt calmed down afterwards. He went on his break early I figured because he began texting me. My dad knowing about this situation with SIL1 has said I always have a place with him and so has GC if he wants it. But GC has turned it down, saying it’s too far from work. My dad did offer to take him but I get his point, he probably doesn’t want to put my dad out so much. I as a semi-joke said “why don’t we move in with my dad?” and GC said “I’d understand if you needed to”. Anyway, we spoke some more and I said how this stress that she was causing wasn’t good for the baby and GC said something and if you took it the wrong way it could have implied that it was my fault for getting stressed out over something so trivial. So I got angry at him. Told him I can only do so much to help this baby, I know everyone thinks I’m doing a bad job, but you try it. Etc. Then he rang me, we argued more and I hung up saying I was waiting for the bus.

I actually calmed down on the bus, I just retreated to my fantasy world. But I did begin to wonder about the stress. Now firstly, I’m unmedicated at the moment. Due to the problems with the lithium I was taken off that and probably for only 1-2 weeks of the pregnancy I was on the lowest doses of lamotrigine and prozac but I took myself off those after finding out I was pregnant. The last thing I need right now is stress. We said we’d revise meds if need be in the 2nd trimester. I’ve been feeling a little depressed on and off anyway and I really don’t need unnecessary stress triggering any bipolar or even bpd stuff for me.

I began to wonder if moving to my dad’s was seriously the best decision and I know in the back of my head it is. At this time I was still mad at GC, I did re-read our text argument during this time and realise that actually I had just read too much into it. But I was still pissed that he wouldn’t say anything because his brother is his boss which I get but still.

I got worked up again when I got into my dad’s car. I know I shouldn’t have but I ranted for at least an hour straight but always ended back to ranting if we changed the topic. I was pissed. GC wanted to ring me at lunch but I didn’t want to talk.

I eventually went in my room and watch criminal minds and I began thinking as I was watching about what I should do. If I moved back to my dads, I wouldn’t have to leave the house everyday and could stay in bed watching criminal minds like I really, really want to do. Just for one day, a binge. I wouldn’t have the stress of her moaning literally all the time. I could sleep past 8:30am. All stuff that is good for the baby.

If I do move back though, I wouldn’t see the person I love and the father of my child. 

I mean staying or leaving would be unnecessary stress but I honestly don’t know which trade off is worse.

GC and I texted when he was out of work and he was under the impression (due to what I’d said that was pretty ambiguous) I wouldn’t be coming home last night. I was on the bus home when he finally realised that I was. He’d been pretty upset about the fact I wasn’t all day. I realised then just how unhappy he’d be if I did leave and I knew I wouldn’t be happy.

So I left it like this: if SIL1 does one more thing to stress me out then for the sake of the baby and my mental health I’m going back to my dads.

I still don’t know which thing is really the better option. It’s a very difficult situation.

My living situation 

I’m going to try my best to explain my living situation and why it’s a – cause of stress for me.
I moved out in last summer and it kinda took a while to move in just logistically with boxes and stuff but it happened. I’m going to try my best to explain the situation but don’t worry if you get lost, I do sometimes.
So I live in a disabled house and here’s why: GC mum is on the book as owning it and her mum (GC grandmother was disabled) and at this time GC, his two siblings, his mum and grandmother and other relatives on and off lived here. Then the grandmother died and GC brother got married and had a kid. The brother, sister in law and kid took upstairs, GC took the disabled area of the house and a few years ago the sister in law (let’s call her SIL1 for short) helped their mum find a man and move out.
The disabled area has wider doors, has a kinda corridor leading to the back door as well as having it’s own front door, a bedroom and it’s own bathroom. The bedroom is at rough estimate 10ft by 8ft (but don’t quote me on that) whilst the bathroom is at rough estimate 8ft by 10ft and again don’t quote. I’m terrible estimating sizes. It’s probably smaller.
GC’s brother, SIL1 and niece all live on the other side and due to our dog we have to chain up the sliding door which slides in the ‘shared’ kitchen as the brother and niece are allergic to dogs. 
But here’s why the living situation is stressful: SIL1.
When I moved in I was reasonably healthy, my sleep pattern had improved a bit and it was summer holidays so if I was at home past 8:30 (which I usually was since my bus pass didn’t work until 9:30am) at this time I was stuck baby sitting a 9 year old which I don’t mind doing every so often and wouldn’t mind doing it on a regular basis if the thing both parents had was work but whilst the dad and my fiancé work. The mother doesn’t. She spends her mornings at the gym and during this time if I was leaving early because my dad was picking me up or I was paying bus fare to go somewhere, she tended to adopt a very pissed off attitude with me because it meant she had to bring her kid with her. Don’t have kids if you’re not prepared to give up your summers for them OR your money to find them something to do.
If I was to do anything, I also got bombarded with questions. I mean less questions then I got off my dad when I used to go out at 9:30am and not be back until midnight (those were some amazing days). “Where you going?”, “who you seeing?”, “what you doing?” – which I’m not trying to be mean is none of her business.
At the end of August, SIL1 and the niece moved back to Canada due to some legal technicalities and that no one has fully grasped of and honestly, it was awesome. I was at college for a month before I dropped out and even after I dropped out I still went out Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday to my dads and stayed in Wednesday doing chores and resting and watching TV as loud as I wanted – again awesome.
They weren’t supposed to come back from Canada until summer of next year but the legal thing had kinda resolved (?) and the couple missed each other so they came back early December and that’s when things got shit.
The only people who know I’m pregnant are: my dad, my brother, my fiancé and his brother. As well as doctors and now everyone who reads this blog. I’ve been trying to keep it quiet until after the scan partly because I want to show people proof and partly because I go between whether or not I believe I am actually pregnant which I know, is weird.
So I don’t expect SIL1 to be too understanding in that respect. But she’s not respectful in any respect. GC took her when she got back that I’m still poorly and to let me rest which is true. I still get my jerks and pregnancy doesn’t make anything easier on me. She gets up at 7am and just shouts and she has this very grating, anxiety-inducing shout. Which at the moment I need like 16 hours sleep so doesn’t actually wake me but still. She always shouts and when you’re tired, prone to migraines and pretty ill you really don’t need to hear shouting.
She’s also one of those people who are in competition to be more ill than anyone else or know someone more ill. Her ‘bad back’ that she causes herself by working out and ALWAYS moans about is worse than my jerking (which has put me in hospital) and my fiancé (and her mother in law) mum who is riddled with arthritis and will probably end up in a wheelchair. Her sister has worse bipolar than me but everyone doubts she actually has it as she’s being treated for postnatal depression. Which is part of the reasons none of my fiancé’s family like her. Except they’re all pretty fake to her face.
A more recent instance of her lack of respect for GC (especially) is we went to my dad’s for Christmas and we stayed from Christmas Eve until Boxing Day and then came home. When we got home there were chairs that we were never asked/told about fully out in our room. Whilst I can consider the corridor to the back door ‘common’ property, our room isn’t. They’d go mad if we did that to them. 
Another is the fact that I don’t get asked questions directly. GC was asked if I’d baby sit over New Years. I wasn’t asked (first at least). We’d already told her that I couldn’t because of my jerks and I had a history of passing out. That’s not fair to put on a kid. Another example of this is at Christmas I got a new phone from my fiancé and she had an idea to give it to their mum. Not actually against the idea. I am against the fact that I wasn’t asked GC was. It was my money bought my old phone, not his. So I should have been asked. 
This post may have gotten away from me and turned into a rant. But you can see why it’s stressful for me. This isn’t just the handful of things she’s done. We’re trying to move but that’s easier said then done.

Break Ups

I don’t want to reread my last blog post so I may or may not be filling in the gaps. I’m pretty sure I told you about how I was dating RH or at least that we had done stuff. We dated for about a month and I had sex with him twice (he wasn’t great) before we had another messy split and I do mean full on messy. After the break up… He didn’t care. I got drunk a lot. It was bad. Luckily I had GC to pick up the pieces, not that I could tell him why I was so down without explaining the overlap of RH and GC dating. But as far as I can tell both myself and RH have moved onto other people and I deleted him on everything but snapchat and then he deleted me on that. We won’t be contacting each other again I don’t think.

I won’t go through why he and I broke up because I’m honestly trying to put that behind me because it was so hard trying to get over him and I can’t say I’m fully there yet but I’m in a better place with it. I’m not getting drunk and crying at least. So there is that. But I will say that after a large deliberation, there was fault on both sides before the break up and he was a fucking awful prick afterwards. He hurt me without directly talking to me and ignoring me but again, it isn’t really fair of me to say without explaining it but I think that’s the best I can say. One day I may fully explain what happened but I really just want to put RH behind me.

GC is someone new. I got with him after RH broke up with me the first time and then when RH and I broke up again a week or so later I had him there for me. But due to overlap I couldn’t tell him about RH.

GC is 26 years old so there is a reasonably big age gap which at first kinda caused issues because he fell head over heels for me whilst I was, for most of our relationship, trying to get over RH so I didn’t fall as fast as he did. So his ‘I love you’ (which I have returned), his talking of moving in together, marriage, kids… all seemed a bit premature for me. An 18 year old who just found the world again.

I did actually warm up to the idea of moving in together especially what with me and my dad at odds all the time but when I had warmed up to that, the marriage/engagement thing got more serious so that whilst what I thought was a joking (though uncomfortable) discussion between him and his niece when we were in town about weddings became a little less of a joke when he took me to get my ring finger measure in a ring shop. I didn’t react straight away because of the borderline personality disorder (yep another diagnosis btw), I don’t trust myself to react so I gave myself some time to digest what happened. I talked to my friends. JS (who I knew from college and got back into contact with again actually due to RH), EC and FM and they all thought “what the fuck” like I did.

So my original plan was for me to tell him last Sunday I wanted a break. No sleeping with other people or anything but just some time to feel less smoothered. But when I was coming home from a youth council meeting, he could tell something was off. I had apparently not returned his ‘I love you’ 3 times that day (one of those times I did realise I did because I wasn’t supposed to be on my phone so kept it short and sweet) and whilst I kept saying everything was okay, he asked if he could call. We ended up talking it out and he got really upset and I didn’t ask for a break because I didn’t want to be alone this weekend. So we made up and he’s slowed down a little bit. Which is good.

We do however have plans to move in together this summer which I don’t know whether I want to go through with or not. Not so much because I don’t love him or want to be with him but I’m starting school again so I don’t know if it’ll work practically. See, I signed up for school just before RH and I met up and I signed up for counselling course. Which costs about £465 (I think) and I had to put a £50 deposit down. After RH and I broke up but I had been around his nieces and GC nieces and nephew, I realised I was good with kids and wanted instead to do a childcare course so I signed up for that one. Now these two colleges are about 30 miles apart. If I live with GC, I live closer to town so I can get the bus and train to these places (the childcare college is close to town about a 20 minute walk from the centre and also means it’s easier to get to the train station to the counselling one as well) but it also would make it a lot more expensive and my dad wouldn’t be able to take me if i didn’t live with him… Also I feel he wouldn’t speak to me again if I did move out because of money.

But all of this sounds like I’m beginning to put my life together and I am a little bit. I didn’t think I’d see this day. But the thing is that the bipolar is mostly okay now and stable but the borderline is very obvious not the bipolar has gone and has very detrimental affects. Please read this to know more about the disorder. My abandonment issues vary from clinging to a person or pushing them away so I don’t get hurt (which is what I did with RH but trying not to do with GC). I am very self critical and insecure but luckily GC is just as insecure as I am.

I still take lithium and have regular appointments with my psychiatric nurse which I’m glad of because I very desperately need people to talk to. Recently, I have found and it might be related to the bpd that I can’t be on my own. I get very depressed if I don’t have someone to be around. Even if it’s a skype mic chat in my room or a phone call with someone. I need that because I can’t deal with myself and my thoughts. I spend just about every weekend now with GC and try and fill my week with my friends.

This week is half term so I didn’t have girls group and voice group. So I spent bank holiday Monday with Guy until about midday and then I went to see JS but that wasn’t as great as the other times because she brought her sister along so we couldn’t talk about personal stuff. I saw EC and her new house on Tuesday and slept over until Wednesday when I then had to get the bus back to the city and buy some stuff for people and today my brother and I went to the cinema and we saw Unfriended. Tomorrow I have my psych nurse and the doctor whom I am seeing about issues with my foot turning in. Saturday I am seeing my older brother which I kinda feel forced into doing because I missed seeing him last time because I was spending time with RH. So I missing my weekend with GC to see him and then seeing GC on the Sunday and possibly Monday too. Though seeing him on Monday could raise some issues as I need to be home in the mornings to take my brother to school so I can’t sleep over Sunday. I’m willing to spend all day with him but I need to help my brother with his anxiety so I’ll have to work that out.

Overall, when I’m good, I’m really good and when I’m feeling bad I’m really bad. Once I’m fully over RH, I think the emotional depression when alone will lift and be easier but for now it’s what I’m stuck with.


I can safely say lithium is helping. Unfortunately though it brings to light the fact a lot of other unhealthy facets such as the paranoia and dissociation are not going to be cured by the lithium. The lithium is still making my thyroid unwell and have yet to get that treated and you may be wondering why, after all this time, is no treatments being made? I had another blood test after the blog post and had to wait for the results of that for about two weeks because there was no copy sent to the doctor, only the psychiatrist and it wasn’t until we saw the community psychiatric nurse (CPN) that i actually got my results and lo and behold, my hypothyroidism is worse. But they wouldn’t treat it until the psychiatrist spent an extra two weeks looking at past blood tests trying to figure out why. I mean the why is great but at this point in time just treat the illness. But apparently I will have to go for endocrinology tests as well. So physically I have been worse than ever. I mean I have energy but I just am in pain a lot of the time with my joints, being cold etc. It’s awful.

The improvement in my mood coupled with the work with the groups I’m with, my confidence also boosted which is great but left me open to other issues. For example, increase in confidence means I’ve been more inclined to go out and contact people. I spent time with EH on Easter and we’ve got unofficial plans to go to London with our brothers and her parents. But it was actually that Sunday that caused problems. As EH’s dad drove into her drive, there were a group of people outside and one of the was RH who I wrote about several years ago who had a crush on my then best friend. Well we were friends then too and I messaged him saying: “saw you nerd B)” and that led to a discussion of when how etc and we agreed to make up and I could rewrite what happened but long story short we went to second base and it was weird because he liked my best friend and now here he is, kissing me. But afterwards I was over the moon but this relationship my confidence opened up had now caused this massive source of stress for me.

The reason being I’m incredibly insecure and have invented all the reasons why he doesn’t like me and why he’s better off with someone else and that comes from my personality problems. I am mistrustful and needy of attention and whilst this is like 95% personality problems, it’s annoying. I don’t think I will let this relationship last very long because it’s causing me to have a lot of emotional issues.

In other news, I have plans with friends, have been on quite a residential but have been having some problems with my psychiatrist. But I’m trying to focus on my recovery so let’s stay away from psychiatrist talk.

I think the thing no one prepares you for when you begin recovering is actually how to manage it. For example the last time I was functioning to a moderately healthy degree was when I was 14 and navigating the change in maturity in yourself when you are well is difficult. When I was depressed I didn’t want to do anything and now I’m better I want to have friends and see them and I feel like I’m trying to make up for 4 lost years in that amount of time. I think had I been forced to enter adulthood and living alone and working whilst still bipolar I would have eventually managed to find some balance between social stuff and other things but for now I have this gap. This 6 month gap between when I have to buckle down and get serious over school and deciding what I want to and what I want carried on and getting myself back into a position where I have a trajectory. Yeah I suffer cognitive difficulties and still other issues such as paranoia etc but I need something that’s mine again.


It feels longer than 14 days since my last post. So to keep you up to date:

Crisis Team

That went poorly. I met the crisis team people at my GP surgery and to save a lot of time, they didn’t like that. I don’t know what their obsession with home treatment is but they do not like being denied access to your house. During the times of seeing them I was very depressed and they asked the same questions in the 3 appointments we’ve had. Now I was supposed to see them everyday but I didn”t have to see them on the days I saw my psych nurse and I didn’t see them at the weekend so overall it added up to about 3, maybe 4 appointments. In those, let’s say 4 appointments, they decided that what would treat me is looking up “positive thinking” on youtube (yes, youtube) and going out more. Now the positive thinking on youtube thing is bull shit and I’ll tell you why: if a professional starts some sort of positive thinking regime (not that I could imagine how that would go) and said look up this on youtube as a supplement it might work but asking someone to look that up as an alternate to actual treatment is bad. They had a tendency to ring and arrange an appointment an hour before you’re supposed to be at the doctors surgery. It was just bad. Also after those 4 appointments, they have decided to discharge me. Yeah, they’re great.

My psych nurse is on holiday and won’t be back until next week. Which is also great.


I am currently on 600mg. Side effects so now aren’t too bad. Nausea and stomach pain are the ones that are sticking around. Also, on my ECG before I started the lithium I had a short PR interval, next ECG on 400mg normal PR interval and now on 600mg, PR interval hitting the long side so I have to be monitored and have a lot of ECG which means I have to strip off in front of strangers a lot.


I find myself on the low side, not really much effect. I’ve been getting more irritable lately though I don’t know if that’s the lithium or just a mood thing but I have been. Plus my self esteem has been pretty low in regards to my appearance. Though I did just dye my hair burgundy.


Groups are going well. I’ve taken a more active role with the girls group and with the voice group as well. For example this weekend I am going on a residential for team building and work shopping – not entirely sure that is though and so hopefully that goes well.

I’m still depressed and lithium is nasty but I’ve been worse so I guess that’s something.

I’m so sick of me.

I saw the psychiatrist on Friday and I should have wrote a post Friday night or Saturday but I haven’t the energy or the head space to. I haven’t now either so excuse all the probable problems with grammar and syntax and all other grammatical things that will probably make this post slightly illegible.

I kinda reached my point where I know WHAT my problems are but I don’t know how to solve them and that somewhat makes it worse as it’s not one of those problems you can easily fix. For example when I realised my nail biting, as a child, was an issue I painted my nails everyday to stop myself from biting them and eventually the habit died and I have long but ugly nails. In more recent examples I knew my problem was procrastinating and I made active steps to stop that when it came to school work but that was about 8 months ago. I can’t fix these problems. I cannot fix the fact that I take people’s neutrality as hostile. I can’t fix the fact that I trust very few people. And I can’t fix pretty much everything currently wrong.

I got called into the appointment but TD (psych nurse) wasn’t down  yet so I sat down with the psychiatrist and told her that I just wanted to say what I had to say without interruptions because I would probably get confused or lost if I got interrupted. I began by saying how in the last appointment I felt like I wasn’t listened to and how I know she said about the hallucinations being dissociative ones but I said I felt like all hallucinations are warrant for concern and how I didn’t feel the fact I was still depressed on medication was taken seriously enough. Which is about the time TD came in and I then said how I had stopped the medication and how I tried to commit suicide which brought out the notepads and they began to ask me questions about how the hospital dealt with it and I told them I didn’t tell them but they were still pushing and I don’t really understand why because I lied to them saying the overdose was an accident so they aren’t expected to maintain a standard of care relating to a suicide attempt.

They then went on to assure me they didn’t take it seriously and they were concerned and we discussed how unlike previous times this was more impulsive and that unlike previous times I wasn’t relieved I failed this time, I was pissed I failed. I learned that impulsivity in bipolar can happen in all mood states whereas I thought it was just a manic end of the spectrum thing. They were concerned about my that.

Something interesting I was asked was: did I feel I needed to be in hospital the days leading up to the suicide attempt. I said I did because I did. I mean I guess maybe the more recent suicide episodes are different to the ones before in that I just really want to die. There is no light at the end of the tunnel for me. I’m just really sick of living. She asked how I felt now (as in at that moment) and at that moment I didn’t feel too bad; they thought i was angry. I wasn’t really angry more than I was frustrated.

The outcome was that I am being put on lithium and there is apparently a lithium registry? Which I don’t even know…  Which means before that I need an ECG and a blood test. Bring on blood tests every 3 months *sighs*

How I’m feeling right now? Just bad. Like I can’t even describe it but good things happened and I think I will probably focus on that.

The New Year

I feel like writing a post about a suicide attempt and then not writing another post for a while is rude and disconcerting so this is the post that will let you know my current state of mind and what I think and hopefully it’s not all ramblings. But this isn’t a structured post. Not that my other ones are either but this is just me writing what’s flowing through my mind.

I find it difficult to find someone I can actually talk to. See I’m offered help a lot. Promise of an email or whatever and it never comes through which is fine and I’ll tell you why: I won’t know the truth. In the past I’ve told my dad, my ex girlfriend and my best friends how I’ve felt. I don’t know how to describe exactly what it’s like but with  my dad the reaction I get is pretty much the equivalent of someone sticking their fingers in their ear and going “nyah nyah nyah” at the top of their lungs. With my ex girlfriend, who by the way made the offer to be there for me, it’s more like talking to cleverbot since I can predict the answer I’m going to get before I get it and those two responses are: “Oh okay” and “that sucks” and with my best friends which is mainly EC and KE, they try – God bless them do they try but it’s difficult since we’re in a 2-days-between-responses type relationship so two days later they’re overreacting about the suicide attempt I’m trying to put behind me but they’re not always great at it and my thing is that I’m usually pretty open with my mental illness if I plan on keeping you in my life. I do this because I form attachments fast and I put people on a pedestal but then my first depressive episode or seriously bad depressive episode, at least, and I run the risk of “this is not what I signed up for”.

I met my ex girlfriend and my two best friends via tumblr where I’d pretty much laid bare the problems I had, in fact one of my best friends found me from a post I made about the psychiatric hospital I stayed at and so there were no tricks. No hidden secrets. They were getting  a mentally ill, sometimes suicidal friend. My dad, just by virtue of becoming a parent was signing up to that as well. When you have kids you sign up to any disability they have and any sexuality they have or gender. When you have a child you sign up to all of it and sometimes you get what you want and sometimes you don’t but they’re your children. Don’t have kids if you can’t imagine having a bipolar daughter or a gay son or a trans child. Just don’t.

Anyway, so this wasn’t a “I didn’t sign up for this situation” and if I have a friend, like I did in college who signed up for the reasonably nice, sweary, hoodies wearing girl but a few months later got the bipolar girl who later turned into some she didn’t even recognize and at that point I felt the friendship slipping away and I let it. I don’t believe that people should stay with someone when something they didn’t sign up for happens – at least not when that someone is me.

Which is why it immensely pisses me off that I still do not have anyone to fucking talk to. Every negative feeling I have shushed or quelled. I don’t want these feels to be quietened down – even though I know you mean well. I want them to be validated. God, I’ll even say it. I want help.

It’s very likely I’m to blame. I went off my medication because I didn’t like the depressed episodes whilst on the medication and it is my fault because I’m stubborn and childish and when my psychiatrist ignored me when I told he feeling depressed still and maybe subconsciously I did it as a ‘fuck you’ to her but that’s a massive maybe. I know I thought at the time that stopping them would allow hypomania to come back and I don’t know whether I’d still feel as awful on the medication as I do off it because not all of these symptoms are bipolar – some are psychological and as much as it pains me to admit it, it’s true. Whether I’d be abused or not, I don’t think anyone could have gone through the last 3 years I’ve had and not come out with some psychological issues. I mean isolation alone is enough to drive any one mad.

I go between wanting to kill myself and wanting to smash my surroundings and I go between the two a lot as my broken glasses which I threw at the wall will prove. I’m irritable and depressed and in pain (physical and mental) and I’m worrying the wrong people.

So my plan? Well the way I see it is I have two options: self implosion or calling my psychiatrist. Believe me I had to give it some serious thought.

At the end of it though I came out with that I will have to call my psychiatrist and see how that goes.

Suicide Attempt – no. I’ve-Lost-Count

I tried to commit suicide – again.

As you know for many months I’ve been depressed. On or off medication. I’m always so fucking depressed. I self harm and that makes no difference, I drug myself with diazepam snorting or orally taking which I eventually stopped because that didn’t help. I’m also so goddamn lonely. I’ve known for a while I’m at tipping point and having somewhere safe was kinda my saving grace.

What happened?

The laptop I currently have is shit so I ordered a new one and I, because of my social anxiety, wanted it to be delivered but my dad said to just reserve it and we’d pick it up. So I did. When we went to pick it up, it wasn’t ready so I wandered off to the laptops to try and find the one I was purchasing (I found it), my dad eventually joined me and I asked how long until the laptop was ready and he said he didn’t know and that one of the floor guys was going to bring it to us. So this guy did and he took it to my dad and my dad called me over and the guy asked me questions like what I was using it for? My social anxiety probably made the annoyance I felt more profound but I reserved the laptop – I know what I’m looking for. He then asked me if I wanted them to set it up and I said no because I just wanted to leave. The guy then said it’s an extra £35 for this back up USB thing (I said no) and then my dad started going on about how “that’s how they get you” and I told him I’d explain what it is in the car and I was getting short now because he wouldn’t stop. Once we were out of the shop and in the car I was okay.

We got home and my dad carried it in and placed it on the table and began to unwrap it. That pissed me off because number one: it’s my fucking laptop that I paid for so what gives you the right to undo it? Number 2: they were undoing all the leaflets and wires and then I had to carry it all upstairs when I could have just taken it inside the box so I asked why they opened it when it would have been easier to carry in the box and my dad began to put it away so I asked him why and then I wandered to the stairs whilst muttering “I’m not in the mood” which is when he violently started putting everything back in the box. My brother left after that knowing an argument was starting. To sum up the argument – my dad told me I made everyone’s life hell and that I had to pack my bags because I’m moving out.

Magnified since I left school, I feel like a burden to everyone. That I’ve changed into a short, snippy, bitter person with no appreciation for others and I hate myself. I mean not just hate my figure or some physical attribute of myself – I hate my personality. Then my dad who was essentially throwing me out brought to mind how my mum did the pretty much exact same thing. One parent does it, it’s bad parenting. Two parents do it, you’re the problem. Not getting any replies from my friends when I asked if I could stay with them and homeless shelters looking like a bad option and not wanting to inflict myself on others I grabbed the handful of queitapine, a blood pressure tablet of my dad’s and a diazepam to help me sleep and took it all.

My brother came in after a while and I was slurring my words and at that moment my dad returned from returning the laptop. They took me to hospital (with great difficultly since I could barely stand) and I ended up throwing up in the car park. Once we got in, my blood pressure was taken and I was given an ECG – my heart was showing problems. I then had to wait to be seen and I lied and said I took the overdose by accident (doctors believe any fucking thing you tell them). With great difficult they put in a line for a saline drip and took some blood (out of my wrist since they couldn’t find a vein) but then they said they wanted me to stay over night for observation, we’d already been there 4 hours it was getting to 8pm. I discharged myself then.

I regret that action. I’ve had chest pains all day and I don’t know if it’s anything serious and I just don’t like being on my own. I hate myself for company. Think of sitting in a room with your worst enemy but you can never ever be away from them – they’re everywhere.

I’m obviously alive but I in no way want to be but I’m so much of a screw up I fail at my own fucking suicide. Now I’m just in this place where I want to be dead but I don’t want to be the one doing the killing. I don’t think I’m safe on my own any more and I don’t have the mental capacity to be with others. I’m just so fucking depressed. There is literally no other way to describe it. I just want to die. Living with me is a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone and I probably thought this last year but I wish last year me with the fancy personality would come and punch no personality in the face. Then I wish present self would punch like 13 year old me and then present me goes and punches future me in the face. Then future me punches present me in the face. I feel like that would be a good recompense and also an awesome movie.

Stuck in the dark abyss, I went and drank half a can of lager and felt a little less depressed.

I have no plans on killing myself again. I swear.

Holiday Blues

I’ve noticed that there are two different types of holiday blues. The ones before Christmas and the ones after. The one before Christmas tends to be worse up until Christmas day with a rapid decline in the ‘blues feelings’ boxing day and it continues to decline up to someone normal baseline or there are the people who like the general feeling of Christmas and once it’s over, they kind of realise that the year is just downhill after this and they get the blues. I’m in the latter group, I spent Christmas day (and the days before) hypomanic and now I think I’m just on a slow spiral into depression and maybe I’m not suffering so much from the holiday blues as I am from depression itself but I’d rather entertain the idea that there will be some epiphany where I realise that just because the holidays are over doesn’t mean things still can’t be great and then I snap out of the ‘blues’ and I’m okay.

Unfortunately this is not how it tends to work. I’ll be depressed until hypomania takes over again. I’ll be hypomanic until I get depressed again… the cycle continues and some days the cycle is nice. It gives me some variety – helps me break up my days. When it’s hypomania into depression – not so nice.

I’m sad Christmas is over because it means that the new year is coming and in previous years that wasn’t so daunting. It was basically a mark in my life saying “you’re over the hump for this school year” and that a few more months and the school year was over and congrats! One year closer to the end of school. The way I left school was kind of anti-climatic and there was no ‘end’ – everything just kind of fizzled out and the year kind of dredged on and I lived on the hope that I’d find something or something would come along and that’s ‘fix’ everything for me and it’s childish hope and I know in the back of my mind that the real world doesn’t work like that. The real world sucks and there’s nothing to be done about it. But I still hope that something will come along and it’ll help me sort something in my life out.

Family Christmas Dinner

Because my older brothers are busy Christmas day, we had Christmas dinner together today and I was a bit apprehensive when I first found out but about 2 days ago my mood drastically lifted and I welcomed hypomania. I had it all day and it did turn into irritability at one point but it got back to the happy side and I was glad of it but by the end of Monday 22nd Dec (the 3rd day) it was filtering out but it was there for dinner despite the fact I hadn’t slept in over 24hrs and helped me get through my dad snapping at me all the time e.g. he asked my brothers if they liked peas and sweetcorn but one of my brothers said he wasn’t a fan of sweet corn so me and my other brother said we’d be fine with just peas and he had a go at me for repeating it despite the fact 1. he’s hearing impaired so I am used to repeating everything and 2. my other brother was repeating it as well.

Well the eldest brother (whose birthday it was as well) – AdB stuck up for me but I went up stairs with my younger brother and just listened to music and messed about until we got called downstairs and all through dinner my brother and I would share glances every time our dad snapped at me (or him once) or we looked at each other and laughed. We pulled crackers I got an orange hair bobble and he got a plastic paperclip which he broke because he thought he could bend it out like a metal one.

My brother and I went back upstairs listened to music and I came out to him as pansexual and he was really accepting of it. I told him about my ex-girlfriend who just winds me up and told him I had ex-boyfriends but let’s leave the stalking stories out of it, to be honest. But it all went well.

During the dinner AdB got a call from his brother and sister (like I consider his brother my brother too but I don’t consider his sister my sister) wishing him a happy birthday and I could hear the phone and our brother asked him to pass along saying hey and stuff to us (he forgot).

Which brings me to now, feeling my energy fleeting I decided to finish putting photos in photo albums before the energy went and I was writing dates on the back and I didn’t have one of the dates actually on my computer but I knew it was on facebook so I went on facebook and despite the fact I only had to click on pictures, absent mindedly I scrolled down and I saw one of those facebook videos people make which was inserting people’s faces into elves and his sister had made one for him.

Earlier in the year, his sister and I got into an argument because she called my dad a tw** because of the way he was acting in a conflict between my dad and his sister (my aunt) despite the fact he had nothing to do with her and I told her not to insult him to me like that and we argued mainly because she said when I was “older” I’d understand. Maybe. But she was getting really nasty and condensing to a teenager when she’s 40-something. So she unfriended me.

So I was lonely… I might have written a blog about it before… and decided to add her back. Partly because I was lonely but partly because I wanted to see if she could be mature and adult about this and this was in October/early November. I kept making excuses that she was busy which is why she hadn’t accepted but that video on my brothers facebook? Meant she’d been on (in the last 20hrs according to the time stamp) and obviously declined the friend request.

It just seems a bit hypocritical because she was all about us all being a family but now she’s cutting off family for that. Ironically my aunt, the one she’s sticking up for, used to bitch about her. It does show she’s petty and I shouldn’t be upset. We only met each other in 2009 and rarely saw her then but it’s upsetting and I’m feeling down now. Like I feel depressed but still have energy – I don’t know. I think my new years resolution should be to get rid of toxic people such as her.