This is a really emotional piece that I’ve sat down to write, as a lot of what I’m going to talk about are the ugly demons I’m currently facing behind closed doors.
Upon getting pregnant, and throughout the first few weeks of motherhood, I was bombarded with overwhelming tips & words of wisdom from other mothers on what to do with my new life.
Being the young and apparently very naïve age of 22, I think people believed they almost had the responsibility to tell me how to prepare.
What – and what not – to eat during pregnancy, what brand of cot sheets were the most breathable and safe for my baby, how many times I should be getting up to feed overnight, and that at six-months-old, my baby should definitely be sitting up.
It was exhausting to keep up with the varying opinions!
But I do believe there was one tip that was warranted. I strongly believe there is a responsibility of mothers all around the world to widely share this with new, or expectant mothers.
It is that you need to look after yourself in order to look after someone else.
When you think about this, you just need to go back to basics. In order to successfully battle through the inconsistent sleep patterns of a newborn and the night feeds they request, you need to take every opportunity during the day to catch-up on your sleep.
You need to make time to eat good, nutritious meals – and frequently – in order to maintain your energy levels and milk supply.
You need to get out of the house once in a while; go grab a coffee, or walk the block with nothing in your hands, free from any responsibility, in order to maintain a clear head and mental state.
And it’s that “mental state” part that I’m struggling with at the moment.
You see, I’ve always struggled with a bit of anxiety in my life. Well, at least I thought I had, until now that is. Now because I finally know what real, horrible, eats-away-at-you-every-single-bloody-day anxiety is.
The type that makes you feel so overwhelmed with your life that one minute you can peacefully be sitting on the couch with a cuppa in hand, and the next you feel it coming up your throat and bang, you’re bordering on a heart attack and you want to run screaming down the street for someone to help you.
This exact feeling happens to me at least 20 times a day. Where I just want to grab the random lady walking next to me at the supermarket, cry, and tell her to help me. To make it all go away.
Is it depression? No, I don’t think so. But what I am discovering is that anxiety and depression have a very strong relationship, with the effects of my anxiety really getting me down in the dumps recently, as I question if I will ever feel ‘normal’ again.
I’ve just cancelled a trip of a lifetime with five of my best friends. A trip to Bali – previously one of my most favourite & frequent holiday destinations – that was booked months ago when I was ‘fine’.
I booked it when I was free of these demons that now control my life. I was ready to go away to give myself a well-deserved break from motherhood with cocktails, sunshine, and dancing with my girlfriends. Free from any form of responsibility.
This is a trip that I now have chosen to opt-out of because in my mind, there is absolutely zero chance I could: 1) get on an airplane, 2) be away from my son & my fiancé, and 3) be overseas in another country and completely out of the comfort of my own home.
My heart palpitates as I write this.
I recently had a stint where my partner had to stay home from work because my anxiety and panic attacks were so bad that I was psychologically incapable of moving about.
I didn’t trust myself to be alone with my son for an entire day, nor did I want to be. I didn’t want to be alone.
Being alone in your thoughts is an absolute nightmare for someone experiencing anxiety, because it’s in our own thoughts that our greatest enemy lies.
I’ve recently said goodbye to my first love – coffee – in the hope of reducing my ridiculously-fast heart rate, and that worked for about three weeks.
Three weeks anxiety free! For those who suffer anxiety too will understand when I say I thought I was superwoman! I thought I’d found that magic cure I’d been searching for… Until about two days ago, when I woke up and my old, ugly friend had reappeared in the best way that anxiety does – for absolutely no reason.
Every night is a feeling I wouldn’t wish upon anybody. I avoid bedtime at all costs because of what my own thoughts do to me.
It takes me anywhere from one to two hours to get to sleep, and then I can wake five to six times a night in a complete panic – for no apparent reason.
I have one million and one things running through my brain, but I can’t figure out what they are.
Although it’s so easy for an outsider to say ‘take a deep breath’, anxiety is nasty in the way is flows in twice as hard the second you consciously think to calm yourself down.
It’s like by telling your body to take a deep breath. You’re acknowledging how bad your anxiety is, and so therefore you get even more anxious. A nasty, ugly cycle, that is very difficult to battle with day-to-day.
What I’ve learnt is to try not to ignore it, but to fight it head-on.
I find exercising reduces the effects slightly, as I burn all of my crazy adrenaline that powers through my body everyday.
Keeping busy is good too, however then I crash & burn at the end of the day and my anxiety is escalated when I’m tired.
I’ve found a beautiful lady who I go and speak to about it, and that is a temporary relief.
My entire life I’ve been Sophie – the outspoken, loud, carefree and thick-skinned girl. I still am that girl! But I’m now a mother, and being a mother means I’ve fallen into a world of huge responsibility.
I went from a uni student who lived at home – not that I didn’t lift a finger, I was brought up to help out around the house, but it’s fair to say my mum was good to me. I then got pregnant and moved out, so whilst also still learning how to be in the ‘adult’ world of maintaining a household with cleaning, bills, shopping, washing etc., I am also learning how to be a mum. Those two combined at the same time is tough.
So although feeling a little in over-my-head currently, I need to focus on what is important here. And it’s looking after my baby boy as best I can. But what I’ve learnt is that caring for him is only possible if I look after myself first, and facing up to – rather than running away & ignoring – my anxiety is the very first step.
Please, mums out there reading this, if anything I have written today resonates with you in anyway, please speak to someone. Anyone.
I understand how horrific these thoughts can be, and no matter how much you try to make them go away, they keep coming at you. No one deserves to feel like this – being a mum on it’s own is hard enough.
Seek help in any form you can.
For 24 hour telephone support call Lifeline on 13 11 14
