My Blog Bubble

Can we ask just one thing of you:- Please stop asking me how Mum is.  I know you mean well and you honestly do care; you want to know that she is ok: but we can't tell you that. In fact we are tired of having to repeat ourselves and remind ourselves that Mum isn't going to get better.  That this is it.  That we can't help her but can on;y make her comfortable. Maybe ask how I am, or if there is anything you can do, or just give us a hug.  Maybe just squeeze our shoulder and don't say anyhting.  If we want to talk, I promise, we will.  Sometimes, like my Blog, it is cathartic.  Other times it hurts in a way I cannot explain. The best thing to do is send a message, a text, an email, and if/when we feel like it we will respond.  Forgive us if we see you are calling and cannot take your call.  It is tiring, emotionally, to drag our way through a conversation we do not want to have. We know you care and we don't want to appear rude but...

In 1996 Mum was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS) and our lives changed forever.  Rachel and I were to realise just how fallible our parents were.  Both she and I recalled a time when we lived with Mum and were watching a documentary on the TV; it was about a man that had MS and his story.  He fell ill and got worse and worse until one day he lost all control of his muscles and could do nothing for himself or speak.  We both vividly remember Mum saying "Girls if ever i should become like that please kill me".  Little did we know that less than 10 years later fate would diagnose our mum with this horrible illness. I was away at Uni in 1996 and felt useless.  When I would come home I would do all I could and make sure others rallied around.  Mum started to be able to talk and walk again and her symptoms went in to remission. .  Neurologists decided this was not the first episode but probably the second - her specialist having written on ...

There is a constant tug of war in my head. Between the positive and the negative. The devil and the Angel on my shoulder. Constantly buzzing in my ear. My depression causes the negative devil to speak loudest and causes my anxiety to worsen. On good days or when I am busy or surrounded by people I can't hear that dastardly little blighter. And on others days my positive white angel will pipe up and tell him to pipe down. She will counteract what he has to say.  There is constant chatter; I am never alone. They say silence is deafening and for someone with mental illness that is so true.  Music can help drown out the voices. Mediation can but that is harder. Keeping your mind busy. Maybe through mindfulness or watching a film. They prevent me from hearing the voices.  Sometimes I wish they would leave me alone and let me enjoy some peace and quiet

Communication is to blame for so many things. Oftentimes it's the lack of communication that leads to misunderstandings and mistakes. However in this day of technology I think that there is an overload of communications or at least ways to communicate. This isn't a blog about modern technology and how it is blighting our lives. Or about the information overload we have. Or misinformation from newspapers and politicians. Nor is it about the fact that I cannot survive without having to ask Google to answer things I do not know or need confirmation on. This is about how relationships have changed due to the numerous ways we have to communicate and I am not sure it is for the better.  When I was a kid phones were attached to the wall and the handset attached to the phone. There was no wondering around or hiding in your bedroom. Your parents always knew what was going on (unless you were posh enough to have a phone in your bedroom).  If you wanted to see a friend you ha...

Today I found myself laughing and joking at my current situation; a relationship breakdown with a custody issue thrown in. Who in their right mind would be smiling about that?  Why am I not crying and feeling sad?  Am I putting a brave face on it or is this me coping? I just don't know. Is this the result of being on medication? Will it hit me one day like a sledgehammer and I won't want to creep out of my pit? Or am I just getting on with it. Putting my daughter first and making light of a situation that has been unsuspectingly thrust upon me? Who am I? Am I this strong woman?  Am I this bubbly person that everyone sees? Or am I papering over cracks and painting on a smile? It scares me that I really don't know.

I think a lot about my illness is subconscious and how things play on my mind without me realising. It isn't until I stop to wonder why I am feeling especially low or sad inside that I look for a reason. Oftentimes there is a lot of searching to be done and sometimes no answers are found. Without my realising this time of year has been creeping up on me. August and September are probably my worst two months of the year which is ironic as it is also birthday season and the beginning of autumn (my favourite time of year).  August is the reminder of that decision I made three years ago that will forever be tinged with regret. September now holds a new meaning. A time to realise that I am not in control and that sometimes life takes unexpected turns. It was a Thursday last year, but as with all dates, this year it falls on a Friday. A day to remember I am fallible and can be broken. A time to remember I could not be here. So should be thankful. A time to grieve for my loss, my ...

Those internal incessant voices Are your repeated words They are the horrible things said That I should never have heard They repeat themselves overtly And burn within my heart Until I can only hear them And they slowly tear me apart I can be on my own completely Or smiling within a crowd The sun could be shining brightly Or I could be under a storm cloud They start to strangle me And cloud my busy mind Until I can't but help to wish My mind be free my body left behind