Motherhood and mental health - (being a bipolar mother)

I wrote this a while ago when writing wasn’t so hard. I decided not to post it because well it seemed a strange subject not sure how it would be taken. Anyway with some small edits I have decided to take it out of draft folder.

Having spent over 2 years writing this blog and reading lots of other mental health blogs there is a subject that is talked about very little. Motherhood and Mental health. That is the idea of having children if you are a ‘Mental’ and also how having children and being ‘Mental’ works.

You see I guess when you read someone’s blog, or hear about someone who is quite unwell. It is easy to see that person, as someone perhaps sitting alone in a room typing away, or as if often the case, a diagnosis or a set of symptoms. But it goes wider than that. We all have family, friends and in my case and others we have children.

When you have a mental illness. The choice of whether to have children or not is a hard one. For many it will mean coming off medication, and therefore risking relapse. Your chances of getting postnatal depression and particularly postnatal psychosis is hugely increased. In short it can be quite dangerous to YOU. And then there is the idea of genetics, you could pass on your illness to an unsuspecting offspring. The poisoned chalice so to speak.

I guess I will point out for those who are reading and don’t know I have a 3 year old son. I never actively made the decision to bring a child into all this. I had no mental health problems at all until the end of pregnancy when I was 25. I developed Bipolar disorder after his birth, in fact I am told it was this which triggered my moods. I love my son unconditionally but would I have chosen this for him or me. At the moment I would say NO.

Last year when I had a brief period of stability and perhaps not too insightful, I went to see a Psychiatrist who specialises in treating pregnant women. I was considering a second child. He told me that if I was to get pregnant the chances of me becoming seriously unwell and needing hospital was 70-100% and I would have to go into hospital as precaution for first few weeks. I have therefore decided that is too high a risk, I won’t have more children. I feel sad about this. I feel like I have robbed my son of all the things you get from having siblings, and then there is my husband who I know wanted more. But how can I realistically look after two other lives in the throes of a psychotic episode. And the thought of having to spend the first two weeks of that baby’s life in psychiatric ward is unthinkable.
Ok, now I have addressed the idea of choosing to have children when mentally ill. I will continue on what I wanted to write about. What it is like having a mental illness, for me bipolar disorder and being a mother.

Being a mother, is undoubtedly a hard job for most. Well being a ‘good’ mother is anyway. It involves putting someone else needs above your own at ALL times. This is extremely difficult if you are a mum who also happens to suffer from extreme mood swings. Roughly, once a month a health visitor comes to check I am still putting his needs first. I somehow always have managed to, and have had no statutory intervention, but it has been hard.

There are times when I am elated. When I have all the energy a three year old could ever hope for. When I will dance, play fight, chase, kick balls. Jump about- without stop. This is all m y son has ever known but after a while he gets tired and looks at me and I know, he knows something’s up. One of his first sentences was ‘calm down mummy’. That isn’t right is it?

In a lot of ways it feels like a double life. Just two months ago I was brought to hospital by the police after I was picked up by the river with a mixture of suicidality and invincibility. I was invited to the wards but not deemed detainable, I left at 5am. By 6am I was feeding my son coco-pops and by 8am I was at nursery, forced into small talk with the staff. It is surreal. They don’t know about my problems, not many people in my life know about my mental illness, and so I am forced into this dual-identity. It is getting harder and harder to maintain.

Worse still are my depressions. When you are depressed, everything is a struggle. Getting up, changing clothes, making a meal and even washing yourself. These are all things I have severely neglected in the not so distant pass ( which you would see now if this were a video conference). Now imagine you have to do all these tasks for another tiny person. They can’t do it for themselves and it is just you and them in the house for the majority of the day. I have lost count of the times I have cried silent tears into his morning cereal as he chirped happily in his highchair. Or I’ve had to prop up my limbs and taken hours to pull little arms into small tops etc.

Would it shock you to find that when you have read in detail about my plans to kill myself, my hospital admissions, my assessments, my dramas.. they are in the context of this family life. As I write about how I just want to be dead, a little boy is pulling on my clothes asking for juice or a story ..a constant reminder that life goes on in spite of illness, sometimes it feels to spite me.

It feels terribly selfish to want out of it all, but I have , in fact more than ever at the moment. It is hard being a mother because it gives you reason to live. A reason I don’t welcome or want. I want to be able to escape my own terrible pain, to do what is best for me. But no matter how many hours I spend justifying this it in my head, I can never conclude this would be in his best interests. I wouldn’t want to be without him now he is here. But I will admit there are times I wish it was just me, I had no connections to this world, no one to remember, no one to mourn. I know for sure I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him and my responsibilities to him. But other times the scales in my mind tip and I feel my pain and the damage I am causing him overrides this responsibility.

In short, being bipolar and a mother is not a natural match. I know without a doubt that my moods have a detrimental impact on him. He is terribly clingy to me after a long spell in hospital and has a natural affinity to want to make things right already. Always asking ‘why are you sad?’ to which I wish I had an answer. I know that if I managed to live until he is a bit older, there will come the time when he will realise as he is starting to, that I am not like all the other children’s mummies, when his adoration of me will turn to shame and resentment. I don’t think I could handle that.

Note:-
That is my account, I don’t claim it is the same for all mothers with mental health problems or with bipolar, but I expect my concerns and fears are similar. It is brutally honest, because I wouldn’t write it otherwise. Please don’t message me telling me how awful I am- because I say how I feel, not what I should say. We are people not just a series of posts and dots and lines. Take care all. X

The Guinea Pig - Medication and mindfulness

The medication is not going so well again I am feeling very nautious and I am dizzy when I stand up (postural hypotension)I also have muscle twitches and shakes. In fact its quite awful and I would be interested in hearing from anyone else who has tried Chlorpromazine.

I went to a compassion and mindfulness class today. The theory is that people need to be more mindful of the moment and tuning in to feelings and thoughts as we experience them. We focused on breathing and did some meditation. We also talked about being compassionate to oneself and not being self-critical and judgemental towards yourself. Something readers will know I struggle with. It was actually a good class and I am hoping some of the relaxation and meditation will help with my sleep issues.

I am just so fed up with these med changes, CC is going to try and get me an appointment with the Shrink this week to talk about what meds I should be on. I just don;t think I can handle anoter med. I have tried 15 different meds including the 3 sleeping meds. I think thats quite a lot in about 19 months. In fact I feel a bit like a guinea pig.

Signed off for three months

Well I went to work meeting last friday. It was quite difficult being bombarded with questions for 45 minutes by section manager and HR. They mainly asked me why I said I could go back in July and August but failed to return. I told them that they may have caught me on a good week but my mood fluctuates and at the time I told them that I would have meant it. They don't seem to understand how it works. They didn't dismiss me they want me to see occupational health this week. I think they wanted to cover their back's. Anyway I have not heard from them this week and today I was signed off work for three months, CC is going to help me apply for DLA. I am therefore expecting my dismissal letter in post. This is best outcome at moment so will not push me over the edge again.

After the meeting I felt a bit hyper, a rush of adrenaline and went shopping, buying a new bag and some other bits. Felt a little guilty after as two weeks of my ESA spent but was fun. Mood has continued to be good this week, and I have remembered to take all doses of meds. I think I am relieved that work is not stressing me, decision has been made and I can concentrate on trying to get better. I want to take up a hobby or do some voluntary work on my days off or I will become a social recluse especially with winter coming.

Good mood has allowed me to get a lot done round house and a lot of paperwork, form filling and calls that needed to be made- I love these productive weeks. Next week I am going to try and go to the coast for the day as not seen the sea for a while. I want to book a holiday for next year and take my son to the farm.

Reflection

16 months ago I was referred to Nottinghamshire Healthcare NHS Trust for postnatal depression/depression initially.

Since then I have been under the care of the Nottingham Crisis team, Stonebridge community mental Health team, back intermittently to Crisis and I am now under a specialist team called EIP- Early intervention in psychosis who are a team for people under 35 I think who are experiencing onset of psychosis for first time.

I have taken Citalopram, Mirtazapine, Sertraline, Sodium Valproate(depakote) several times, Quetiapine, Risperidone. Also Diazepam, Lorazepam, Temazepam, Clonazepam, Zopiclone, Zolpidem.

I have spent a total of eight weeks as an inpatient on a psychiatric assesment ward away from my family.

And where am I now????

I have a diagnosis. Rapid cycling Bipolar, which is preventing me from working(and I expect P45 shortly), at times from looking after my son from driving(I was told today for at least another six months). I am several thousand pounds less rich and I have alienated family and friends.

I hate it. it has stolen my life and even at the moment when mood is pretty high again I resent it bitterly. Last week I was very suicidal. Last two nights after no sleep and no quetiapine I am making imposible plans, making endless lists, dancing and look like complete opposite. thats how quick it changes. so how can I ever do more than take each day as it comes, which was ok a year ago but I need more. I don't think the NHS can help me all they can do is try and keep me alive.

So where will I be in another 16 months - Alive I hope but a fully functional stable member of society I have my doubts.

Unfit for forseeable future

Yesterday went to see new shrink,as my actual one is on holiday for a few weeks. I told him about my hair loss from the Depakote and he said he will reduce it and see how we go. I also told him sleep was a problem, I asked for some Temazepam and he said he will give me some in the short term. It should be dropped off tommorow so that will be good.

This week my mood has been low. Low enough for me to contemplate swallowing the sleeping tabolets I have -one zolpidem doesn't work but 36 might eh! and they're so easy to swallow being tiny. I have spent week on sofa, when I have to go out, to go nursery then I think people are watching me and I keep seing people I met in hospital, including staff. The shrink said that last time I went for appointment with my usual doctor I told her I was responsible for swine flu, I think I am more concerned at having no recollection of this than how dellusional it sounds. THE DRUGS ARE EATING MY BRAIN.

Today I went into work and saw occupational health, I told her I have every intention of coming back to work on the 4th september as need to get out of house and need money. She said sorry but she can't allow that as from what I am telling her about my memory and concentration and sleep she thinks it will make my condition worse, she said she will see me in a week but if no change she will advise mangers to not allow me back. I'm not sure what this will mean -I have been off work for five months since first hospitalised and before that I was only at work for few months after another six month break. Think they may try and dismiss me under capability. And so I am unfit for the forseeable future. Filled in my Employee support form over phone so will see how it goes.

Does Illness make you selfish?

I've been a bad blogger recently I apologise not posting or reading as much as I should or would like but truth is the first half of the year has been a funny one for me, in and out of hospital these last few months out of work changing care workers and just trying as we all do to find that something be it meds or counselling or some other Ephiphany that will give us some quality of life.(still searching)

Now that I have been reflecting on my time in hospital, namely the fact that in the last five months I spent nine weeks there and was admitted three times. I have started to thinking the effect this has had on the people close to me for the first time.
Whilst I was in hospital dancing on window ledges, climbing room divides, getting restrained, laughing, joking, sometimes shouting and running off the wards I didn't think about how my partner or mum and siblings would feel about this. Does this make me selfish?

My Mum never knew I was ill until I was admitted in March, she knew I was a bit down but not anything warranting hospital, and never a lifelong disorder like Bipolar. To go from not knowing anything to being told your daughter was recued from top of multi storey car park is hard hitting. I later found out she cried for three days. My sister along side her. How could they have missed this. I had always been the one they came to the strong perfect one. Always taking everything on the chin, happy, easy going. They thought.

My Partner knew about all the suicide attempts he has been with all the crap over the past few years so was not as much of a shock. Still doesnt prepare you for your girlfriend ringing you to pick uo your son becuase she in a cell under a section 136 for the third time in two weeks. He not really knowing much about mental health and such assumed I was going to get carted off to a specific mental hospital for months to years. Having to make decisions as to whether I should be sectioned up to six months or not, whilst being told by social workers the wrong decision could be fatal is a tough one. Having to bring me clothes and leave me in those places. Having your son ask for mummy but not be old enough to explain what was going on to.

I never really considered this. In my eyes. All I could see was the injustice of being locked up and thats why I escaped the ward twice, tried to leave another 2 times, and asked to leave nearly every day. I had to endure 24 hour days with little to do. Poor hospital food and sometimes frightening company so I had it worse right? That's all I could think of.

So I think Illness doesn't necessarily make us selfish, that sounds a little harsh, but what it does do is make us very short sighted at times, so we can only really see the difficulties in front of us as we experience them in the throws of a particular episode etc. And we forget what we are doing to other people. Every action has a consequence not just for ourselves but those around.

Keeping busy

Had a busy few days. Have been doing a lot of cooking and a lot of walking. Walked about 10 miles in two days. This is a lot for me. I cook for about 3 hours a day. I have missed my mornings this week. They have been extremely hazy thanks to the Seroquel. I am signed off this week but due back into work next week and I'm not sure how I am going to get up at 7am on these meds.

I have applied again for a volunteer job with the samaritans and also a volunteer job at the cafe of the local forensic unit under the MHS. This along with my normal job (if I'm not sacked on my return) will keep me pretty busy. Better busy than the alternative. I have also applied for some charity runs in spring.

It has been 6 weeks on Tuesday since my last overdose. If I was to follow some sort of pattern I would be due a depressive spell leading to a OD about now. But I haven't been depressed in this time. Considering my moods were changing weekly before xmas is something. If I am honest though I am keeping myself that busy that depression can't creep in. When I get a quiet minute at night I can feel the voices telling me how crap I am how worthless, how pointless my actions and my life is.I find myself staring into space again, but then I get up and go for a walk or take my Seroquel or some Temazepam.

And that's all I have to report for the last few days. I have had some continuos sleep the first time in about eight months and the week has been quiet which is welcome after the chaos of last week.

How depression feels

When I’m depressed, I’m really depressed. There seems to be no half way house for me, I don’t feel slightly sad or slightly lethargic. I feel chew my own arm off and blow my brains out depressed. Except I have neither the appetite nor a shotgun at the moment.

When I am, as I have been, I am so earth-shatteringly low that I can’t even see ground zero. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep I can’t think and mainly I can’t talk which is explains my absence from blog land. I read something Plath wrote today about not making plans or bothering with life as after her teenage suicide attempt it was only ‘by accident that I am alive now’. That’s how I feel, I shouldn’t be alive, many would be dead having OD on my amounts and more importantly I don’t want to be. Sounds awful doesn’t it? I don’t want to be alive. Mainly, I don’t want to be ill, but to me the two are inevitably linked. To live, is to be ill, to be ill is to be this depressed and so the circle continues until I remove myself from that circle, the only way I know how.

I am alive though, despite all the odds this week I have had the pills I have counted the pills but I have not taken the pills. And I have to give some credit to my CC who visited twice for over an hour each time this week and talked me back from some bad places. But I won’t always have a CC and I don’t want to have to depend on someone to rationalise the crazy mess in my head. To tell me that I will get better and I DO want to live. I try to believe but each time, it gets a little harder.
I said goodbye to my GP who retires in ten days today. She has not been that competent but has been kind to me, and that’s counted for a lot. She said she’s sorry she didn’t get to see me recover. But, I’ve got a feeling that day wouldn’t come even if she was staying on. I am signed off until 4th December and if I don’t go back to work then I will be sacked. At the moment 4th December seems long way off, too long and I didn’t think I would be here this Thursday earlier this week, so who knows if I will be here in any form by this due date.

‘If they tell you that she died of sleeping pills you must know that she died of a wasting grief, of a slow bleeding at the soul.’
Clifford Odets

Sometimes I feel like the world is moving too fast people are getting on with their lives and I'm stuck, stuck in inaction and disassociation. I can't help myself all I can do is watch as everything occurs around me and I do nothing except exist.
Other times like now I feel as though I am the one moving, I am the one whirring the one with the ideas the one with a sense of power and I want to speed other people and the world up too. In the last seven days I have slept for about 12 hours in total. If I'm honest I don't want to sleep, I feel it is a waste of time, time that could be spent on other things and projects, I long for sleep and yet I evade it I don't take the sleeping pills, assuming they won't work(they haven't before) and I drink coffee late into the night.

Tommorow I see my care Co-ordiantor, I am going to tell her I feel fine I no longer need her help and not sure I was ever ill. I will discuss with her my need if any at all for the CMHT.

Not long until my training lecture for Samaritans I have volunteered to be a telephone counsellor. On friday I was signed off from my usual work for two more weeks so hopefully will be able to do both jobs soon. And then look at applying to uni as think I would like a change of career.

Living with a mental illness

I have just moved all the furniture around in the living room and now that I have a minute thought I would do a post about living with a mental illness.

Now I have only officially been mental since May when I was reffered to the Crisis team and then on to a community mental health team. Initially I was diagnosed with post natal depression as I had my son June 2007, I believe they then decided it was perhaps just depression and now possibly manic depression. I say perhaps as they don't like to give labels and my diagnosis is still up in the air. So I realise I perhaps am new to this living with mental illness, however like many of us out there my brush with the services has led me to many hours of research and I have spent a lot of time since on the internet reading blogs, of service users, of MH profesionals of relatives etc hoping for some answers and thinking knowledge is power etc. So what I write is my experience and also what I have learned from this research.

Since May I have taken I think six overdoses, I have tried the Citalopram, Mirtazapine, Sertraline all at various levels and all failed to lift my depression, I have had been prescribed, Zopiclone, Temazapam and zolpidem which all have failed to help me sleep and I now on Sodium Valporate (Depakote) which is a mood stabilizer-No effect seen at moment. I have tried returning to work and failed and have not worked since May. I was with the Crisis team for ten weeks and now see a Social worker who is my CC every week so it has been a busy five/six months.

Living with a mental illness is not glamorous. not sleeping, not knowing if I will have the energy to open the curtains today or will have that much energy will hop on a train to the capital for a few days. Having to hide the scars on my arm and when I forget to do that being told I am disgusting or worse being looked at with patronising pity. Having to come up with reasons to live when every inch of my body and mind screams for me to have the guts to put an end to this. Watching as one by one my friends stop calling or visiting because either they can't handle my moods, or don't know what to say, or that I am no longer the friend I was. Realising how much pain I am causing the poeple close to me but not being able to stop it.

From my blog hopping a common theme is the lack of understanding from people who can't see what we suffer as an illness. 'I often read 'If I had a broken leg it would be different'. Well it would be, for a start people wouldn't expect that you would be able to just carry on as normal, allowances would be made, people would rally round, you wouldn't have nurses telling all you needed was positive thinking and a bit of exercise and you would be ok, or people requesting you snap out of it. And yet sadly, mental illness can be life threatening, unlike a broken leg. I have always considered myself to be a fairly intelligent person, I did very well at school, college and studied law at university before working in family law, but none of this matters any more as the general consensus seems to be that if you have a mental illness you somehow lack basic intelligence. I say this because despite never missing an appointment with CMHT when I see the shrink, she writes it down, she reminds me, their receptionsit rings me day before, and the receptionsit rings on the day.I think people confuse people with mental illness and those with a learning disability.

For me, the worse thing is not being able to plan for the future as things that were achievable are no longer realistic. Because I am 26 and fairly young, and have always been a high achiever and carear orientated I am frustrated that I don;t know what the future holds for me. I don't believe I can ever go back to law, firstly, because the stress would be too much, and secondly the law society doesnt view mental illness favourably and I would now probably be considered unstable to practice. I am currently on sick leave from part time work at a call centre and returning last month I feel even that is above my capability. If I was 60 and had already had a succesful carear I don't think I would resent this impact as much.

In short life with a mental illness ranges for me from a very restricted life to no life at all. I suppose I can take comfort in the fact that had I lived in victorian times I would probably be in an asylum for the rest of my life. It is late or early so I unable to concentrate anymore, will finsih there.

Clocks gone back, winter's here!

Clocks have gone back today, and I feel winter is upon us. Nights drawing in, christmas decorations being put up in town and winter coats dragged out of closets.

I know for many people, people with mental health issues winter is a bad time. Whether its S.A.D or just that with winter comes the impulse to hibernate, perhaps more than usual. If dragging yourself out the doors is a problem anyway, and lets face it for many of us it is, winter does us no favours. I personally, don't mind winter. I was born in winter, and the idea of wrapping up warmly coming home to cosy slippers, warm fires and hot drinks has a certain nostalgia that the summer months lack. However, I wonder if I can say this partly because I am not alone and can afford the extra expense winter brings. Coming back to an empty house,and long silent nights. Or opening the door to a bitter chill, knowing you can't afford to put on any heating, not so nostalgic.

I guess the thing about winter, is that often brings me to the realisation of a wasted year and wasted time. I start out the year, fresh ideas to achieve wonderful things and make something of myself, but by this time , nearly November, I realise yet again these dreams have come to nothing. And so any hope of achieving them are packed away to be taken out in January for 2009. This year has been a very bad year, and so I hope these winter thoughts will be kind this time.

On a positive, only 66 days left of 2008, and if 2008 was my rock bottom, and in some ways it must be 2009 must have better in store.

Last few days have been hard, a lot of soul searching, a lot of appointments and undoubtedly a lot of guilt over being back at hospital again. On wednesday I had CBT. which for once was really useful talked about not letting things build up to the point where I am not able to control my thoughts and actions. Also talked about palnning my free time so I can be doing something useful rather than thinking and procrastinating and feeling worse.

Yesterday I saw the Shrink, again I guess I should feel privelaged. She said that she thinks I MAY be bipolar but not oficialy diagnosed me yet. We talked for about an hour, about the overdose and how what I say is opposite to my actions and why this is. I am the offical master of 'i'm fine, I'm ok and alright'. Didn;t really have any answers other than perhaps comes down to childhood and defense mechanism . I have agreed to start on Depakote which I am a bit aprehensive of, but I said that I will try but if any intolerable side effects then I wont continue. I don't really want meds but I can't go on this way and I do want to seem like I am co-operating with the services. I will pick up prescription later.

Since yesterday it has really hit home that agian I could have not been here. This has left me feeling a mixture of guilt and anger, towards myself really. I found out my manager was in A and E when I was admitted, luckily she knows hte situation. work is another issue I need to sort as been off for 6 months now, can I realistically go back??.

If I am Bipolar, is this how my life is going to be from now on? Something I can try to manage but never cure. I don't want to be, I don't want to have a mental illness but then who does. When you're a child you have so many dreams and ambitions none of them involves this. I never said 'mummy when I grow up I want to manic depressive' but I may be anyway. I didn't ask the shrink how long she wanted me on meds, because I know the answer, chances are a long time maybe for life. I have dealt with last year or so because I thought it was a depressive episode I would come out of , put behind me and forget about. That was my glimmer of hope. Now the glimmer has gone.Reality has hit and its harsh, and its crap and its for life.

Well I am over the worst of the 'I just can't go on' thoughts I think, although the Ideation is still strong. But I can feel a quietening of the voices telling me I'm a worthless crap, the world would be better place without me and I'm not strong enough to survive this (the voices being my own)

Yesterday I spent the whole day in town. Because I knew I'm still not safe alone, and because I need to face being in public, and the world again. It was ok, I did have a minor panic attack but I survived.

Today I am feeling very detatched. An outsider looking in on my life. I can;t control what I am doing, where I am heading I can only watch. I'm not sure this is a better place to be. But it is a safe place I think and that's ok.

These feeling has left me to think. Are we not all spectators in our own lives? Is our life already mapped out? and does it matter what decisions we make? does it not automatically run its course? I know this is a bit deep for a saturday morning. I don't really know, but I feel all efforts to control the direction of my life and in some ways the outcome have been fruitless. A psychologist would probably say right now that I am trying to shirk the responsiblity for my actions and avoid working to get better. Well maybe, but I am alive and maybe shirking is all I have.

I will be seeing my CC monday and will need to make decision whether to start on the Sodium Valproate they suggest. My initial reaction was no way. But then being so detatched has allowed me to look at the bigger picture. I can see how my illness effects those around me and maybe I need to try for them. I went to library yesterday and took out soem books on mental illness and medication which I will TRY and read today (mood allowing).

In wasted hours of blacken tear
I think how my life has ended here
Memories like dreams now hard to recall
Its as if I don't exist at all

I used to be like you a long time since
Before the shadows fell,
I used to love and be loved
Before I unconsciously created my hell

Now there is no more light
Days and nights blend into one
Now trapped and broken
Wondering where those dreams have gone

Flooding, consuming, waking thoughts
You haunt me so I half believe
You speak the truth, was I niave?

Time has no space I can't comprehend
One thing's start and another's end
Through hazy dusk I cant see at all
The stages of my rise and fall

I long to rest and reach the light
To belong once more to day and night
And crawl from beneath this stone
I'm coming back, I'm heading home