I am typing this, sitting in Rey’s working space while looking out to my new yard. It is beautiful. Yes, I definitely am taking a pic right now so you guys can see *brb*
This is a post I promised myself I would write since like, ages ago. Last year, to be exact. Right now, Bonbon is old enough to entertain himself while his mum is closing her bedroom door. Rey is playing his Dragon Quest (one of his many birthday pressie) and I no longer have excuse to not write this post. I honestly do not know what is exactly the reason why I postponed it so many times, I guess maybe because I am afraid of what I would write? I have always known sometimes my fingers are faster than my mind. Urgh, this is a bit scary. Hope it turns out fine, or at least not damaging. For me. And my mental health.
Yep, this is a post about my mental health journey.
I forgot exactly when I first knew I needed help and the problem was within me, not from external (shitty comment from friends I wrote two posts before this) nor medical condition (DMER). I think it was when I began to see myself in third person point of view, Bonbon was around 5 months? It was scary, it was like out-of-body experience. I felt sick afterwards, and so afraid what I would (or would not) do to B. I saw my GP, and she told me I was _dissociating_ and it was best I meet a psychiatrist immediately. That, I did.
I met a lovely psychiatrist who is specialised in post-natal lingo. She was one of the first ones working in mother baby unit in Victoria, how cool is that? It was exxy though, $400 for initial consultation and $340 for on-going visit. Rey was with me for the initial consultation and the 5-6th visit (per her request).
First few months, I cried almost every time I saw her. I told her everything, from my early childhood till my recent
breakdown day situation. At first, she just listened and helped my confusion with my feelings, and later she would easily called me on my bullshit and bluff e.g why did it bother me? what’s the real reason? what was actually behind my mind? and other interrogative questions till I finally caved and told her the truth-est truth. It felt like she was peeling onion, layer by layer. I subconsciously always told stories in a way that can justify me being, well, me without making myself sounding so bad, but she forced me to admit that yep I knew it was not okay but I still did that so it was actually my fault.
It was a journey for myself, too. She told me I never told her everything, or my husband, or my best friends, or my family. There was a part of me that have always repressed what I really feel, and it was more-or-less same statement from a psych my mom took me before I started uni. He said I had mental block. He even tried to hypnotise me, I played along, but he knew I was faking it. Lol, good times (not so much for my mom and her $). She told me that I need to start conveying what I really feel. She also said that it was a form of self-defense because my abandonment issue. People closest to me left me when I was a kid, dad to his new family, mum to his new family, my loving grandpa died, and there I was, year 8 of junior high, living alone in rented room, skipping classes for weeks. Whenever I told people about that past, they looked at me like I was so brave and independent. My shrink though, looked at me like she was about to cry while calmly said “I think that’s when you started to develop abandonment issue.”
Damn. I really wish I could write this with a cigarette in my hand.
After I repaired the relationship with the fam, maybe I started to be what they want so they would not have left again. I started living life that way. Of course, it hasn’t always worked. I have always tried to be the best daughter, sister, girlfriend, best friends, who is there for everyone, but I just cannot seem to tell them everything. Sure, I tell them things, but not enough to really convey what I am actually feeling. I think I want to be a friend that I myself need. I want someone to ask how I have been, but in the same time, I do not want to tell them what I have been feeling. That is maybe why I am *okay* right now, I still love to check up on people but yeah.. Gosh, I make this so hard on myself.
My head hurts now.
After countless visits, I was diagnosed with mild anxiety and OCD, and we decided to go with meds way. My GP prescribed Zoloft during my initial post-partum, but I hated the way it made me feel (and I secretly blame my weight loss stall on that dem tiny pill). Right now, I have been on Fluoxetine since last December. It has beeen okay, I no longer need to triple check whether I have turned off the stove or not (sometimes I would go back to unit 10 mins after I left just because) and dealing with Bonbon has been easier. Well, motherhood in general.
What wrecked me is the fact that I started to think Bonbon as a project where if I do everything right by the book, Bonbon would turn out ok. That was not what happened. There was a period when his feeding schedule was a fucking mess, and I cried myself almost everyday. Also when Rey could not seem to handle B and B only wanted to be with me. Also when I didn’t think Rey was doing a good job as a parent because he did not comply with my standard. Also when I was about to pass out and throw up after Bonbon did not gain any weight when I took him to community centre. Also when I left him in high chair when I locked myself in bathroom for 5 minutes just to cry. Also when I started to feel like I did not belong here. Also when I felt like running away from Rey. Also when it was all just too much. That was when I began dissociating.
I slowly am getting better, and I can sleep better at night ever since I went down the fluoxetine path. Funny thing is, I never told my closest circle any of this in detail. I told them glimpse like “my shrink” “anxiety” “depression” but I did not tell them in detail. I told Rey some times when I had ‘breakdown’, as much as he was being supportive, he just did not get it. How could he? I told this to my inner mother’s group when we had a night out earlier this year, and I was so glad that they understood. They had their own problems, too, but it will be okay. Everything will be okay.
2019 was a very interesting year, and I understand that I am just in the beginning of my mental health journey. I am so lucky to be able to get the support I need, here’s hoping I can continually be better at being human. At myself.
Well, until then, I guess! Ciao!