I’ve been struggling recently. I feel like I’m sitting at the bottom of a jug and someone keeps pouring things in. I’m struggling against the tide and I don’t know what to do. I can’t blog about this on my blog as my mom, dad & stepmom & neighbours read it. You know me as the mum of a Little Miss and the American wife of an Englishman. I’m not afraid to have you know me…I just don’t want my nearest & dearest to read this. I’m not ready for them to know because I’m quite talented at putting on a good face. I have trouble admitting that everything ISN’T okay. But I need to get it off my chest.

Things haven’t been the same since my daughter was born two years ago. I’ve been a nervous mother with a very over-active imagination. In the two years that my daughter has been in my life, I have spent only 1 night away from her…and that wasn’t even with my husband! In fact, it’s only recently that I have started to let go a bit and have my inlaws take her for an afternoon once a week. Even then, when I drive away, I worry. I worry about the inground pool in the back garden. I worry they won’t watch her as vigilantly as they should. I worry about EVERYTHING! I worry about her being taken away from me too soon. I worry about her being taken away from me at all. I have acquaintances who have lost children to illness and accident. I don’t know that I could bear that. When Little Miss was a tiny baby, I would rock her and cry…worrying about a day when I wasn’t there for her.

My relationship with my husband has changed somewhat. Neither of us makes the effort we should. We both love each other completely but it seems like we’ve put on the Mummy & Daddy caps and have assumed that role entirely. We don’t go out on dates; we don’t make time to do things together; we sit on the couch after having dinner and watch telly and then I fall asleep on the couch. Our physical relationship is much different. Before having my daughter we had a very active and happy physical relationship. I initiated a lot…he reciprocated. We laughed and screamed and loved being together. I feel like a switch has been flipped now. Something happened when Little Miss made her way into the world. Maybe she tripped a wire on the way out? I don’t feel sexy. I don’t feel attractive. I don’t feel like a woman any longer. I feel devoid of passion. My husband tells me he loves me and wants me and is turned on by me but my heart doesn’t believe it. How could he want to touch my body now…one that still looks 6 months pregnant? I don’t want to see me…why would he?

I hate my physical self. I still look like I’m 6 months pregnant. My stomach is a disaster zone and I’ve had 3 people in the last month ask me when my baby’s due. I TALK about being unhappy with myself but I don’t DO anything about it. I talk myself out of going for a walk because of my separation-anxiety ridden dog who will bark the neighbourhood down if we leave him at home alone. All I have to do is START. So why am I so afraid to do it? I’ll be 40 in 4 months. If I knuckled down and worked out I could potentially lose 15-16 lbs! What a difference that would make! What is stopping me?

I had a group of friends after Little Miss was born. We found each other because of our daughters. We attended classes together, had coffee mornings, went on walks, had Mummy’s Nite Off! We had fun. I had friends of my own for the first time! They weren’t my husband’s friends who took me in by default. They were my friends who I had something in common with. As our girls got older, we drifted apart somewhat. Some of the mums went back to work, others started attending other classes. I organised play groups, walks, coffee mornings. They came and then suddenly they didn’t. Excuses were the order of the week…can’t make it…something else going on…sorry… I began to feel that it was pointless to organise anything, to put myself out there only to be brushed aside. I stopped organising things. I started staying in the house more. I backed into my shell and was reluctant to come out. It’s safe in my four walls.

I started writing a blog. I found success in it. I found acquaintances and friends. People started knowing who I was. I started getting invited to various events and was picked up on the PR radar a few times. I was ecstatic! I was finally achieving and getting things I wanted. I started freelance writing and even got paid for it. But with success came more anxiety. Why wasn’t I more successful? Why did THAT blog do better than mine? Why didn’t I get invited to that event? When were people going to start noticing me? Why could’t I pitch a successful story to a magazine? Why did women have to be so nasty? I started falling into the blogging trap…trusting people I shouldn’t have; stepping on the toes of some; trying to be too many things to too many people. I based my happiness on whether my blog was moving up the rankings and getting noticed. I grew frustrated with trying to understand how it all worked and why I couldn’t seem to crack it. I was stupid…why should I care what other people think?

I care about what other people think because I want people to like me. I want people to think that everything is perfect. And it’s not. I adore my husband yet I struggle to talk to him about this? My inlaws have no idea that I have these thoughts…they think I’m a perfectly wonderful daughter in law. I don’t like to ask for help…I like to think that I can handle everything but I am realising that I can’t. I’ve even gone to my GP to talk about depression. He asked a few questions and agreed that it sounds like mild depression. He referred me to counselling but only after I asked for it. He was ready to hand out a prescription. I wasn’t ready to need a prescription. I went for an assessment and the counsellor felt that I was suffering more from “low mood” or “mild depression”. She recommended either self-help work on my own or guided therapy where we’d meet once every two weeks to work through these negative thoughts. I agreed to the latter. I had to cancel our first appointment as I was sick. The rescheduled appointment came and went because my inlaws let me down and couldn’t watch Little Miss. I nearly lost my opportunity for help. But I rang and scheduled an appointment for 2 weeks from now. I have to attend this meeting.

I’ve tried to talk myself into being “fine” and “happy” but I don’t seem to be listening. The voices in my head are negative and discouraging. I seem to be clinging to the tiny bright spots like a great email or my daughter bouncing on the trampoline and thinking that will make the negative just fade away. But it won’t, will it? I have to deal with this. I have to admit that I can’t figure it out myself. I have to admit that I’m not perfect (!) and need to reassess. Why do I get myself into these messes? I’m tired of sitting at the bottom of my jug and watching everything pour in and doing nothing to stop it. Maybe it’s time to stand up, climb out of the jug and put the lid on?

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Many thanks.