When I became pregnant with my son in 2010, I was worried. I thought I was the perfect candidate for post-natal depression. In my early twenties I had struggled with depression and severe anxiety that derailed me for quite some time. It was messy. I dropped out of university for a year, cut off contact with my parents, had an abortion, drank too much alcohol and smoked too much pot and way too much tobacco, was suicidal much of the time, decided to run away to Spain but luckily was talked out of it by friends, and at some stages could barely leave the house to buy a loaf of bread. I was never properly treated, but I managed to turn a corner and regain some ability to function which improved greatly in the years that followed. In the absence of medical help, my saving grace had been the stability provided by my relationship with my now ex-husband. The fact he was controlling and jealous seemed secondary to the benefits of having someone there who I felt loved and cared for me.
The drawback from this set-up was that even after many years had passed from that episode, I had not really recovered, I had merely plugged the leaks, put band aids across the wounds instead of letting them heal. What I had done, as is so clearly described in SLAA, was that I used another human bring to help me cope with my "inadequacies", instead of addressing them head on. I don't blame myself for this - I was so unwell and desperate that I feared I would end up on the street. I did not know what was wrong with me, and the support I received from doctors and counsellors was woefully inadequate. My ex sat with me through panic attacks, he fed me when I was so worn out I could not lift my head to eat, he helped me keep my flat clean and go to my classes. He was there when I felt I had been completely forsaken by my parents and important friends.
It took a few years for the worst symptoms to lessen and sometimes they still flared up, mostly in the form of hopelessness, feelings of emptiness and suicidal thoughts. So as I said, when I becamepregnant, I thought this would be the big trigger, and I would have to be prepared. I did some reading, and also spoke at length to a good friend who had had a severe case of postnatal depression.
Strangely, even though I was pretty glum and anxious during the pregnancy, I was elated after the birth. I found my baby utterly gorgeous and although I found the slog of looking after a newborn bloody awful (lack of sleep and the monotony is a killer), I had never felt better. Somehow I sidestepped the whole postnatal quagmire, which I can only imagine is an absolute nightmare to contend with, doubly cruel because society drills into us that this is supposed to be the happiest time of our lives and the bond to the child the most wonderful thing ever, the very meaning and purpose of life! How to cope with such an edifice if your feelings and hormones just don't play along?
Anyway, for me the issues with my mental health and motherhood came later, around the time I left my husband and in the time since. Part of his abuse was to make me feel like an incompetent, unreliable mother. At one point he wanted to force me to write a definition of "reliable mother" which he would vet and we would both sign. If I met the criteria by a certain deadline, he would allow me to move out and share care for my son, who was then 18 months old. In the meantime, I was free to leave but I would only be allowed to see my son at his father's house. This was his grand plan anyway. I escaped with my son before he was able to impose this.
Even though I knew my husband was losing the plot, he made me doubt myself, and in part he had a point that I was not giving what a mother should. I had been so heavily triggered by another man (who helped me to realise that I had to leave my husband but who was dishonest and I felt had used me) that I felt I was losing my mind in several fronts. I spent hours each day crying, trying to understand what had occurred. I started therapy with an excellent therapist, who told me that when people have emotional trouble, often the first thing to go is the ability to care for kids. For a few weeks I was totally incapacitated around my son. I made sure he was cared for, I hugged and kissed him but I could barely engage, so obsessed was I with what had happened to me.
That must have been extremely difficult for my ex to deal with, and I understand the impulse of wanting to protect his son. At first he was actually understanding but everything became much worse when he began to use it against me, saying that I was inadequate as a mother. For some reason this is a really sensitive spot in me. I suppose it touches on one of my greatest fears: not being good enough a mother, and that my mental health issues could impact my son. Most of all though, I was afraid my husband would use it against me to take my son away from me.
Anyway, his constant hints or overt threats around this made me instantly crumble. I would become a shivering, shaking wreck, sweating, terrified. And to some extent this fear never left me. I look at other mums and think: surely they play more with their children? Do they get as bored/anxious/impatient as I do? My love for my son is so huge and honestly, most of the time now I know I am a good mother, in my own way. Of course I have my shortcomings, like everyone, and I can laugh about them. But then at other times, I think: Jesus, you are mental. Look at your past, all the things you have done. How are you going to raise a kid? I question how responsible I am, if I am same enough, disciplined enough to keep is healthy, happy and safe. I know how fast things can spin out of control. So far I have been lucky, I feel. And I mourn for all the mums out there who are separated from their kids because of their mental health problems.
The drawback from this set-up was that even after many years had passed from that episode, I had not really recovered, I had merely plugged the leaks, put band aids across the wounds instead of letting them heal. What I had done, as is so clearly described in SLAA, was that I used another human bring to help me cope with my "inadequacies", instead of addressing them head on. I don't blame myself for this - I was so unwell and desperate that I feared I would end up on the street. I did not know what was wrong with me, and the support I received from doctors and counsellors was woefully inadequate. My ex sat with me through panic attacks, he fed me when I was so worn out I could not lift my head to eat, he helped me keep my flat clean and go to my classes. He was there when I felt I had been completely forsaken by my parents and important friends.
It took a few years for the worst symptoms to lessen and sometimes they still flared up, mostly in the form of hopelessness, feelings of emptiness and suicidal thoughts. So as I said, when I becamepregnant, I thought this would be the big trigger, and I would have to be prepared. I did some reading, and also spoke at length to a good friend who had had a severe case of postnatal depression.
Strangely, even though I was pretty glum and anxious during the pregnancy, I was elated after the birth. I found my baby utterly gorgeous and although I found the slog of looking after a newborn bloody awful (lack of sleep and the monotony is a killer), I had never felt better. Somehow I sidestepped the whole postnatal quagmire, which I can only imagine is an absolute nightmare to contend with, doubly cruel because society drills into us that this is supposed to be the happiest time of our lives and the bond to the child the most wonderful thing ever, the very meaning and purpose of life! How to cope with such an edifice if your feelings and hormones just don't play along?
Anyway, for me the issues with my mental health and motherhood came later, around the time I left my husband and in the time since. Part of his abuse was to make me feel like an incompetent, unreliable mother. At one point he wanted to force me to write a definition of "reliable mother" which he would vet and we would both sign. If I met the criteria by a certain deadline, he would allow me to move out and share care for my son, who was then 18 months old. In the meantime, I was free to leave but I would only be allowed to see my son at his father's house. This was his grand plan anyway. I escaped with my son before he was able to impose this.
Even though I knew my husband was losing the plot, he made me doubt myself, and in part he had a point that I was not giving what a mother should. I had been so heavily triggered by another man (who helped me to realise that I had to leave my husband but who was dishonest and I felt had used me) that I felt I was losing my mind in several fronts. I spent hours each day crying, trying to understand what had occurred. I started therapy with an excellent therapist, who told me that when people have emotional trouble, often the first thing to go is the ability to care for kids. For a few weeks I was totally incapacitated around my son. I made sure he was cared for, I hugged and kissed him but I could barely engage, so obsessed was I with what had happened to me.
That must have been extremely difficult for my ex to deal with, and I understand the impulse of wanting to protect his son. At first he was actually understanding but everything became much worse when he began to use it against me, saying that I was inadequate as a mother. For some reason this is a really sensitive spot in me. I suppose it touches on one of my greatest fears: not being good enough a mother, and that my mental health issues could impact my son. Most of all though, I was afraid my husband would use it against me to take my son away from me.
Anyway, his constant hints or overt threats around this made me instantly crumble. I would become a shivering, shaking wreck, sweating, terrified. And to some extent this fear never left me. I look at other mums and think: surely they play more with their children? Do they get as bored/anxious/impatient as I do? My love for my son is so huge and honestly, most of the time now I know I am a good mother, in my own way. Of course I have my shortcomings, like everyone, and I can laugh about them. But then at other times, I think: Jesus, you are mental. Look at your past, all the things you have done. How are you going to raise a kid? I question how responsible I am, if I am same enough, disciplined enough to keep is healthy, happy and safe. I know how fast things can spin out of control. So far I have been lucky, I feel. And I mourn for all the mums out there who are separated from their kids because of their mental health problems.
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