It's always the same..

It has taken me quite some time but I think I've made a breakthrough...

I have a neighbor who is a single mother to a 6-year-old girl. I'd been worrying about her, observing that she has a very hectic schedule and knowing that she had to quit her job and live on benefits. I had a feeling she may be reaching breaking point, and somehow I had to connect with her. So I had been gently reaching out to her, occassionally inviting her over for coffee and arranging playdates for her daughter and my own kids.

It paid off. One morning she dropped by to pick up some plastic storage that I didn't need anymore. Somehow the conversation steered into the right direction and she broke down, admitting she had been depressed before and was prescribed Prozac. But she didn't like the effect it had on her so she took herself off it just days later without even talking to the doctor about it and willed herself to get better and soldier on. 

Problem is, she is not getting better. She acknowledges the fact that she doesn't eat nor sleep well, and gets very temperamental around her daughter to the point that the girl has asked her mother why she was often so angry even though she hadn't done anything wrong. The only thing stopping her from taking her own life is the thought of her daughter being left alone. Worse still, she refuses to seek medical help because she's afraid that her daughter will be taken away from her if she starts taking medication.

How terrible! It proves yet again how depression is always perceived in a negative light. She believes nothing and no one can help her, that she has to fight and carry on on her own. I reminded her again and again, that we would always be there for her. And that she should get medical help so she could get better and make things better for her and her daughter. And I reassured her that, as far as I knew, the state would not take her daughter away from her just for being depressed.

I understand where she's coming from. I had the same fears. I feared that I would lose my children if my mental illness was on record, thinking that I would be deemed an unfit mother for not being able to cope. And I was ashamed of myself, that family and friends would be disgusted with me for being weak when I had always been 'the strong one'. I felt that somehow or other I had to make things work, but I couldn't because I couldn't even think straight. The idea of changing a diaper was enough to reduce me to a state of despair and I didn't even know why. I couldn't hear myself think, there was always white noise in my head. I'd be rocking on the floor and crying, wishing I was in a hole deep underground where no one could get to me and I still didn't know why. I could feel everything closing in on me, like a big shroud coming over me slowly and stealthily until I couldn't breathe.

I didn't know why I felt all that. But thank God I knew that I needed help. And thank God that everyone involved in my care have been some of the most wonderful people I have ever met. Yes, you have to do most things yourself but sometimes you do need others to help you to your feet when you've been beaten down so badly. And there's no shame in asking for help.

So surreal...

I'd just read my own blog that got published on a mental health website. I thought I'd be feeling so proud about it that I'd burst at the seams. Not at all. It didn't even feel cathartic, the fact that my thoughts had become an open secret. I can't even describe how I felt about it. I've read countless of other blogs about mental health and depression on various sites, that reading my own published blog it didn't even feel like mine at all. I just hope that it makes some kind of difference in someone else's life, that it would encourage them not to be ashamed of themselves. That mental illness is not a self-inflicted disease. That they're not alone and they can get help and support. Reaching out is probably the biggest and most important step a sufferer of mental illness will make. It's a leap of faith. Don't feel discouraged. Believe in yourself, and believe that there are people out there who can and will help you. With all my love xxx

It's all about you..

Here we go again. I wrote in a previous blog about how women always sacrifice themselves for others, a great yet potentially self-destructive trait. A recent conversation has again brought the subject matter to light. Why do we do it? Why do we always give  yet never ask for anything in return? Why do we destroy ourselves? And why do we feel guilty when we want something for ourselves?

We had another small row the other day. After days of traipsing around shopping malls with hubby trying to get school uniform together at the very last minute, I changed into some loungewear and crashed onto the sofa for a quick rest. Hubby walked in and said, "Don't tell me you're tired! How can you be tired? You don't even do much nowadays. I help you with your chores and you still feel tired all the time."At which point we started exchanging a few words before I stormed off into the kitchen. 

First of all, let me lay all the blame for the last-minute shopping trips on hubby. If I had done things my way, the uniform would have been sorted out before we left for our long summer break. But no, hubby as always ordained that things can get done later ie. on our return.

Secondly, I know it's hard for other people to understand this, but tiredness seems permanent with someone like me who suffers from depression. It's actually a miracle that I no longer hide in the bedroom whimpering all the time wondering what the hell was wrong with me. It could partly be the medication, but who the hell knows anyway?

It's always go, go, go for us. We could be sitting down for 2 seconds before we suddenly remembered there was something else that needed to be done. I do envy the times when hubby would call out and tell me to entertain the kids because he'd had enough and wanted to watch tv. Would I be able to do the same? Of course not.

And yet I'm still here. Am I a sucker for punishment? I really don't know. We need to be more assertive and be able to say enough is enough when enough is enough. We must not let ourselves be taken advantage of all the time to the point that we have nothing left of ourselves. And we must learn not to feel guilty when we're unable to please everyone all of the time, because it's just impossible to do. Other than that I'm quite comfortable with letting the rest of the stuff go over my head. Because I'm a lot more patient than hubby.

Should I stay or should I go?

Gosh! Another month has just whizzed by! Is it just me or is time really not waiting for any man? (or woman??) A few things have happened in the past month that could probably last me a while. I won't say a lifetime as it would sound a bit too dramatic *smile

Last week I was involved in a minor car accident. I call it minor as I didn't suffer any physical injury from the accident and the car wasn't a total wreck. But it was the cause of the accident that worried me and my GP. I actually blacked out for a split second just as I came out of an intersection and hit a parked lorry. Luckily the steering had turned slightly and only the left front wheel of the car was bent inwards.

My husband's reaction was completely predictable and expected, though I'd hoped that he would be more sympathetic and showed some degree of concern. Instead, I received a groan and moan about the cost of repairs in the current economical climate we were in. He asked me several times about the extent of the damage to the car, but not once did he ask me if I were hurt or feeling alright. I was in fact in a state of shock, but I think the bitter disappointment and hurt I felt overwhelmed me. I couldn't believe how insensitive and selfish he was, and it wasn't the first time.

It led me to think about our relationship during the days that followed. I wondered if I should stay and endure, or pack and leave. I knew he would never change and I couldn't ever change him. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to walk out on our marriage. Do I really want to waste 22 years of my life?

We hardly spoke for over a week. I had no clue what was happening to the family car, except that it had gone for repairs and we had a rented car in place. He didn't inform me and I couldn't be bothered to ask. I spent the days just cleaning and tidying the house, by that I mean really cleaning and tidying. I moved furniture around in the living room and dusted every nook and cranny, and even wiped the walls down with antiseptic. It's one of my little ways of distracting myself whenever I was feeling down.

Yesterday I had reached the music corner of the living room, where the hi-fi system and stacks of CDs sat. I pulled open one CD drawer and saw something that I hadn't listened to for a very long time so I put it into the CD player. When the music started, a moment flashed before my eyes. I saw the two of us slow-dancing like we used to, and my heart swelled when I remembered the love and passion we shared. I smiled, and I suddenly realised that I'd never leave him. Not that I was chained to him. Yes, he had a hold on me but not in a negative sense. It's completely inexplicable but we were drawn to each other in such a way we both knew it had never happened to either of us, and it'll probably never happen again with anyone else. 

I know he'll never change, but I remembered that I'd fallen in love with him despite his flaws. After all we're all only human, and nobody's perfect. We both accepted each other's imperfections and we stood by each other through thick and thin for the longest time in our lives. And he had been there when I went through endless medical treatments and surgeries, never wanting me to worry about anything else at that time. How could I have forgotten that? Circumstances are such that we're going through financial hardship now, but who isn't? And it's putting such a strain on him emotionally that it would be selfish of me to leave him when he needed me most.

So it's settled then. I'm sticking around. Maybe just for a few more years. Or maybe till death do us part..?

So what's it like..?

An old friend recently told me, she'd often wondered what my life was like. Such a simple question, but so difficult for me to answer.

We live in completely different worlds, her and I. She is single, lives in her own apartment and drives her own car. She is a respected university lecturer with a PhD and is  not afraid to speak her mind.

Me? I've been married for 18 years, live in a completely chaotic house that I can't call my own with three screaming kids. I've never owned a car even though I can drive. I managed to graduate with a Bachelors degree by the skin of my teeth and am almost always keeping my thoughts to myself.

After a brief think, I answered 'routine'. I think it sums it all up well, that one word. I realised then I could no longer live spontaneously like she still does. She could just pack a bag and catch a flight to somewhere whenever she felt bored or wanted a short break. I used to be able to do the same, but how could I possibly do it now? With three children in tow, two of whom are in school, everything has to be planned. Time away from home is the one I dread the most, because of its uncertainty. Anything could happen, and they usually do. Quite often I'd think I got everything planned out and I'm prepared, but somehow something always manages to crop up that could ruin everything.

Routine. That's all it is. Wake up, get the kids ready for school. Do chores, then get lunch for the little one. Then it's more chores, or errands, before rushing to get tea ready. Kids get home from school, eat and change. Tidy up then off to bed, chance to catch up with family and friends online before falling asleep with one hand still on the mouse. The next day it's the same thing all over again. Groundhog Day? You betcha. Do I get a break? Never. Do I wish I could live someone else's life for just one day? Sometimes. Do I want to trade it all for something different? Honestly? I don't know.

Speak up! I can't hear you!

A shout out to a friend who's just started reading my blog.. welcome! Yes like many others this is where I put pen to paper, so to speak. And I think today I'm going to talk about women.

Women are so different from men, aren't they? Women are more sensitive, more in tune with emotions whether it's their own or other people's. The desire to fulfill others' happiness very often is what drives them and gives them a sense of purpose in life. Which is why most women make great mums, sacrificing themselves for their family. Alas this trait can also be their downfall.

In the eternal quest to make others happy, some women forget about themselves. They allow themselves to be plundered to the point where there is nothing left of them. Their being is void of their soul, just a hollow empty shell like an abandoned warehouse. They start walking the very thin line between reality and insanity. And sometimes they trip and fall over into the other side..

Don't be ashamed to cry out for help. Asking for help doesn't make you weak. You're only human, not Superwoman. You're not meant to carry all the burden of the world on your small shoulders. And especially to those who are experiencing domestic violence:

SPEAK UP!! WE CAN'T HEAR YOU!!

Hello, world..

Wow! Where has the time gone? It's been a month since my last post. How is everyone? Hope all is well. As for me, life has been pretty hectic. Husband is busy with work, long hours seven days a week. So I'm left to do everything on my own. Exhausting. I salute working single mothers, I really don't know how they cope physically and mentally. If I were a single mother working fulltime and suffering from mental illness, I would surely have said goodbye to it all. It really takes a lot of strength to do it and I have nothing but admiration for those that do it day by day.

Another story to tell - I know, you're probably thinking, oh God not another one! I've been sharing this story with a lot of people, because I feel there is so much to learn from it. She's a college buddy of mine, and we were part of a small group of close-knit friends. But she kept a secret from us, so well that we didn't know of it until she finally told us a year after the fact. She'd eloped and married someone she thought was the perfect man for her. If I remember correctly she told us about it because it was eating her up as even her family didn't know about it. After a lot of discussion she finally gained the strength to tell her immediate family. As expected, the news was met with a mix of disbelief and despair. We were still in college and all our parents were fearful that any kind of personal relationship would jeopardise our studies. But thankfully we proved them wrong and graduated with honours.

Upon completion of our studies, we were due to fly home and serve our country as graduate teachers. And so our friend took her husband with her, enrolling him into a local university to gain entry into the country. It wasn't long before he disappeared off the radar. She, her brother and a male cousin spent nearly two years tracking him down, while all the time my father and I were advising her to file for divorce but she flatly refused. She thought that that meant she had given up on him and she wasn't prepared to surrender. Needless to say, they eventually found him but not under happy circumstances and they finally divorced.

Was she a single mother then? No. She didn't have any children then. But a few years later she met and married another man with whom she had two beautiful boys. She was so happy, she felt she'd finally found her soulmate who was a wonderful husband and father. On one of my trips home, I met him for the first time when they came to send me off at the airport. It was such a brief and emotional moment: we hadn't seen each other in more than ten years although we'd kept in touch by phone. When I saw her we ran into each other's arms and just sobbed. We couldn't find the words, only the tears spoke. Her husband could only stand back and watch in amazement.

Life can be so cruel sometimes. That proved to be the first and last time that I met her husband. A couple of years later we had another phone conversation. Again only the tears spoke but not of happiness this time, they were of utter grief and despair. Her husband had died of lung cancer just one week after being diagnosed. Her sons at the time were still so young, the second still too young to even know what was happening. You know the old cliche, my heart goes out to you? Well, it actually felt that way. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest and I desperately wanted to give it to her if it would help her feel better. But of course she was inconsolable. And I felt completely helpless.

Over time her pain healed and she lived the life of a single working mother. It's been more than five years since he passed on. She obviously still thought of her late husband but probably with less grief. Could life be anymore cruel to her? Of course it could!

You're probably thinking now, what else could possibly happen to her? A double whammy. A few months ago her father died of lung cancer too. And she spent nearly a year juggling her work, kids and visiting her father in hospital every evening. Again she didn't tell us about it, she felt that it wasn't necessary. We only knew just a couple of months before he passed away. I don't think she had time to live her own life, she gave everything she had to her family. My heart aches as I write this and I'm thinking of her. It's been a very long time since we saw each other, and I'm truly hoping and praying that I'll see her when I fly home in the summer. For me, I feel that seeing her would finally bring all the events together and I can put them to rest, because I couldn't be there for her physically during all the difficult times and it just feels like a link is missing. I just hope that it would be the same for her and she'll be able to move forward.

Happy talk

Okay, enough with the doom and gloom. Let's move on to something more cheerful. One of the things I did to ease my anxiety was throw myself into gardening. I'd never been a very good one but I've discovered it's very therapeutic and I've improved somewhat in my gardening skills. I'm now planning to turn the back of the garden into a 'wild' corner, with shrubs and things for garden birds especially. I even signed up as a member of the RSPB, which brings me to the story I wanted to share.

One sunny Sunday we took the children to Hyde Park to feed the wildlife and have a run-around. There's a particular spot where squirrels and small birds are in abundance. We brought peanuts for the squirrels but that day some blue tits were showing great interest in the nuts and seemed quite tame. So I put a couple of peanuts onto the palm of my hand and held it out. To my utter amazement, the tits came to feed on my hand, perching so gently on my fingers. It was incredible! The feeling was indescribable, utterly amazing. I just wish the children were braver and would try it but they were slightly worried about the birds' claws and beaks.

I think a lot of children in this modern age are losing touch with nature, so we try to take ours out as much as possible and expose them to all sorts. They especially love going to farms that allow visitors to feed the animals. We had a blast visiting Farmer Jim's dairy farm up near Sheffield, they have a play/picnic area and do short trips round the farm in a wagon pulled along by a tractor. They also have a corn maze that is designed differently every year so you face a fresh challenge everytime you visit. Hats off to Farmer Jim for his great effort to get children and adults alike involved with animals and farming.

My next objective is to get some baby chicks for the kids to raise. At school they have been hatching chicks two years in a row and have a coop to raise the chickens in, and the children love it! I believe that raising animals teach children responsibility and compassion. As a child I grew up with dozens of chickens and quite a few cats, and it's an experience that I want to pass on to my children. We now have a pet rabbit - three others sadly died due to natural causes - and a few goldfish. I recently bought a beautiful fighter fish that my middle son has declared his own so we named it Kipper. Appropriate, no? Ah well....

Okay, I lied...

When I said I'm smart enough to recognise my own symptoms, I wasn't being completely honest. I did recognise them the second, third and fourth time I got hit, but not the first time around. A lot of people who suffer from depression will agree that it's a silent illness. It just creeps up on you and you're not even aware of it. And it was the same for me.

In hindsight I can see how it progressed. I was still working fulltime then. It started with just feeling low all the time. Then the low mood intensified and I became tearful all the time for no reason. The smallest thing would make my eyes well up, especially if it were something my husband said or did. But more often than not I'd just be sitting down doing nothing and a wave of sadness would wash over me.

I didn't realise it then but I started drinking more than usual. I never used to drink alcohol other than at special dinners or club outings. But this was different. I was drinking during lunch breaks, without even having my lunch. And it wasn't even a glass of wine or a mixer. I would have a couple of shots of brandy, neat. Then I'd sit at my desk and stare blankly at my computer for the rest of the afternoon,  barely getting any work done.

Then it gradually got worse. I started buying brandy to take home after work. Worse still, I was hiding the fact from my husband. I know now that I'd become an alcoholic but at the time it was just something that helped me get through the day. It numbed my emotions; I'd be too tipsy to be tearful. I'd jump at any invitation to go to clubs at the weekend because it gave me an excuse to indulge in alcohol. I was the life of the party, becoming uninhibited after downing half a bottle of brandy in every sitting. 

Not only did I drink like a fish, I smoked like a chimney too. What the hell, I thought, I got nothing to lose. No hope of having children, no hopes of becoming a professional singer, no career, no future. I had nothing to live for. So when my husband thought I was over-reacting to my regular monthly pains, he drove the final nail into my coffin. I felt sure then that I had absolutely nothing to live for. And I couldn't bear the pain I was suffering, month after month, year after year. I knew I had a really high tolerance to pain, but what if he was right? What if I was over-reacting? I was starting to doubt myself.

I'd always seen myself as an intelligent and confident woman. But at that stage, I didn't recognise me. I was fearful, paranoid and my work suffered. Little did I know my supervisor at work had been observing me. So one day he called me into his office and asked me to sit down. He only said, "How are you?" And I burst into tears. There were so many things I wanted to say but I was so muddled I couldn't think straight. It felt like there was a dark cloud constantly looming over my head, and I was in dense fog I couldn't see my way around. He knew straightaway I needed medical attention as his wife suffers from the same illness so he saw what I couldn't see. So on his insistence, I made an appointment to see a doctor. And that's how the ball got rolling.

LS, I'll be forever grateful to you for pushing me in the right direction. If you hadn't been such a good friend to me God knows where I'd be right now.

Love and Marriage

"Love and marriage, love and marriage
Go together like horse and carriage"

Talking about marriage in my previous post made me think of a couple of my friends. I should count myself lucky in that I have a pretty dull one. The reason I say that is because my dear friends are or have been in a physically abusive one. And I believe women who are being abused by their partner or husband have the same problem of speaking out, albeit possibly for different reasons. Shame, guilt, the false belief that one day the man would change for the better...

One friend has put up with her abusive husband for so many years, she's still with him. But why? One time he hit her so badly, she was rendered unconscious and woke up in hospital. And she was hit when she was holding her baby. When I asked her who took her to hospital, she said that her husband did. And to show his remorse, he had smashed all the fingers on his right hand with a granite pestle. She admitted she didn't leave him for fear of shame, shame that she'd fallen into yet another abusive relationship. She had previously been married to another man that abused her so she didn't want society to view her negatively. I told her it didn't matter what people's personal opinions were, what mattered most is her and her children's safety and happiness. To this she quickly replied that her husband is now a changed man, that he hasn't laid a hand on her although he's still working on his anger management. Shame, guilt and false belief all rolled into one.

I only pray that she has made the right decision to stand by her man. And I sincerely hope that he truly has changed and become a better man. I can't tell her what to do, I can only listen and offer advice when asked. It's entirely up to her to make her own choices. It's the only liberty she has. But I told her, whatever she decided, her family and close friends including myself, would be right beside her. Love you, MM.

To Love Somebody...

I'm married with 3 young kids aged 8 and under, and come from an Asian background. Now a full-time stay-at-home mum after being made redundant, I'm a college graduate with an Honours degree in Teaching English as a Second Language.

My husband is a fellow countryman and although we've both lived in the UK for more than half our lives, he retains much of our cultural values that include 'the place of the wife'. Hence talking to him is almost impossible, let alone seeking support for clinical depression. Being a full-time mother after working in an office environment for ten years proved to be overwhelming to say the least, but to admit I had difficulty coping was even harder. My husband to this day doesn't fully comprehend mental illness and how I'm affected by it. I couldn't tell my parents as I didn't want to burden them with worry. My sister's reaction to it was: "How did that happen?" I wasn't surprised by her reaction but I didn't know what to say then. Depression isn't an illness that is acknowledged in our culture, in fact it's almost non-existent. It's never talked about; if you say someone is mentally ill then you most likely mean that that person is 'crazy', a commonly loosely-used term, and is a permanent resident of an asylum.

When I tried to talk to a friend about suicide and depression, all she said was how could I even think of suicide and that I should think about the children. All I ever do is think about the children and not about me. I was physically and mentally exhausted, tired of being pulled in all directions all the time. And the only way out I could see was to take my own life. I just wanted to be left in peace, not be called on every minute of the day. I didn't have new clothes, trips to the hairdresser had stopped for years and I was totally unkept. Every night I just crashed into bed but hardly slept even though I was so tired. I avoided sex like the plague.  And that of course didn't help matters. Arguments were commonplace and they didn't go unnoticed by our eldest child.

By the time I took myself to my GP, I was in such bad shape I could barely speak to her. I was sobbing uncontrollably and could only nod or shake my head. She rang my husband to collect me from her surgery and instructed him to watch me closely in case I committed suicide. Now, you would have thought I'd be admitted to hospital and be kept on suicide watch, which was exactly what my GP suggested. But my dear husband decided it wasn't necessary. Besides, he added, who would look after the children? Even at that critical moment I wasn't allowed to take time out for myself.

And that was just my recent episode of postnatal depression. I was diagnosed clinically depressed ten years before that, when I contemplated suicide after years of suffering from endometreosis and infertility. Treatment after treatment, surgery after surgery. One night I was groaning in pain and my husband shouted: "Oh for God's sake, it can't be that bad!" Two hours later I stood in the kitchen, knife in hand and tears streaming down my face. If my own husband couldn't understand me, then who would? For the first time in my life I felt completely alone, and I wanted it to stay that way forever.

And yet I'm still here, alive and kicking. My faith in God and my voice of sanity stopped me from taking my own life every time. I'm smart enough to recognise my own symptoms and seek medical help. But it's an ongoing battle. I thought I'd become strong enough to stop taking antidepressants, only to find myself back on it months later with an even higher prescription. When will it ever end? Who knows. One thing is for sure, I have to live life one day at a time. One day at a time. One day at a time..

Well, here goes...

Some friends thought it would a good idea for me to start a blog. Somewhere where I can let it all out and maybe someone somewhere would read it and we could share thoughts and opinions. Or just vent. Whichever, and not necessarily in that order too. 

But it's not that easy. Just as it wasn't that easy for me to tell my family - that I'm mentally ill. In fact, my parents are still unaware, bless them. Only my siblings know. It's not like you go: Hi, my name is X and I'm mentally ill. You don't go up to your friends and say, guess what, I've been diagnosed as clinically depressed.

I suppose you could try sitting people down and saying you have something important to tell them. But that just makes it sound as if you were dying of a chronic disease, which you're not. So how do you do it?

There's never a right time to tell someone something, is there? Like there's never the right time to tell someone you're madly in love with them, or that you hate them and you're leaving. You just have to pick a moment. So this is the moment I picked to share on this blog:

I SUFFER FROM DEPRESSION