the mothering

Stop screaming

I’ve been thinking. Thinking about ways it could be all ended.

I am flirting with it. I have snuck out of bed. Gotten changed.

I’m wrapped up in a coat in the kitchen. I stood  for a while watching the clock on the oven.

Would it be better to go at night or day. Night I think to myself.

I googled it. I found out different ways. Things I hadn’t thought of. Some are so obvious.

I’m so tired.

J said that everything was OK last week. What has changed?

What has changed? Nothing.

I wasn’t OK last week.

I screamed and threw the laptop on the ground. The dogs started to growl at me.

“Stop screaming!”

“I’m not screaming!! I want to die. I’m not OK I’m not OK!!!Stop saying I’m OK, that everything will be fine next week. Stop speaking. Shut your fucking mouth.”

He called me a cunt then.

They deserve more than this.

I was planning my wedding this morning. Tonight I’m planning my death.

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Rosanna Jones

 

Can’t sleep

My eyes feel full, swollen underneath them. My body is tingling. Especially my hands.

I’m angry. Irritable.

I lay down for hours today. I just couldn’t walk properly. Swaying. I thought I would fall on the road.

And i’m so hungry. Starved. My stomach hurts and is churning.

I feel nervous. I don’t want to order takeaway as I don’t want to open the door to anyone. I’m selling stuff online. The emails and questions I am getting are making me anxious. I don’t want to speak to anyone.

 

Afraid for the long night ahead. What will I torment myself with later?

I saw a dog scavenging in bins last night. I went to look for her. To give her food. But she was gone and I cant stop thinking about her. Thinking about something terrible happening to her. Alone and cold outside.

I want to put everything on pause. Life isn’t working today.

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Daniel Martin

 

 

 

Resenting Breastfeeding

There I said it.

This will be an unpopular opinion and it is something I’ve only really shared with one person for fear of being chased with breast pumps and pitchforks.

I really resent breastfeeding most of the time.

I have been breastfeeding now for 10 months. My original plan was to try it for a week. Then a month and so on and so forth until before I knew it, it was all I knew.

Frankie loves it. He’s been teething. In pain. Waking frequently. It calms him instantly. We have moments of real tenderness. When he is sleepy in my arms. Or his little hands come up and cup my cheek. When he was sick in hospital I knew this was the only thing I could do for him. But also it was the very best nourishment he could get in the world. So that was cool.

But the shitty parts are pretty shitty. Not even counting the weeks of agony at the start. The Mastitis. The cracked nipples. The swollen, leaking, lopsided stranger boobs.

I’ve had a milk blister on Frankie’s favorite boob for a month now that seems to be here to stay. Ouch.

Mental health professionals have ALL told me that there are risks with any medications I take (I’m pretty sure this is wrong also). Guilt.

I’ve had surgery and was not prescribed painkillers afterwards and was incorrectly told to pump and dump after it. Bah.

When seeking weaning advice I am met with- “Why wean? Just feed him till he wants to stop!” ARE YOU JOKING???

I’m weaning him slowly. Its not his fault, it was my choice to do it. I have to live with it. Sometimes though I wonder what in the name of god I was thinking.

Yeah, yeah I know its best for the baby. I get it.

I’m weaning him slowly. My goal is to be finished in a months time. If not completely by then a year old is the deadline.

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Henri Matisse

 

 

 

Insomnia

I cant sleep. I’ve been lying in bed for five hours. J on one side. Frankie on the other.

Trapped.

Too warm. Too cold.

Is that someone in the hallway?

The dog whimpers in its sleep. I bristle in the bed.

Why is this happening?

I read the daily mail website. Trash trash trash. It makes me feel worse.

I did everything right today. I spent an hour and a half patiently putting Frankie to bed. I made up with my sister. I went for a run in the rain with the dogs. I tidied the house.

I started to feel really happy. I started thinking about the wedding.

Then I started thinking about the fact Frankie took so long to go to sleep.

Am I a bad parent am I a bad parent?

Why does no one visit me?

Why have my parents never come to visit me since I had the baby?

Why does no one ask me how I am?

What I do all day? No one cares? No one cares about me?

No one believes me. They think I am making all of this up.

I have given everything up. I have given everything up.

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Niamh Crowley

 

 

 

 

 

Its my party

One of the sadder side effects of my depression is that we have had to postpone getting married for a long time now.

Crippling anxiety and social anxiety left me wanting to elope for the last two years.

But then my parents said how upset they would be if they were not there. Its not their wedding- I know this but…it doesn’t feel right to run away. And that’s what it feels like to me.

Its like I’m giving into anxiety. I’m avoiding being the center of attention. I’m avoiding having to pretend to be happy all the while sweating in a too tight lace dress.

Nodding at people I don’t really know.

Worried about how much it is all costing.

But most of all I’m avoiding getting on with my life. I’m staying static. Fearful of the unknown. Fearful of change.

Today we spoke me and J. And we have it set now. We cant afford a big wedding. And we don’t want a tiny one. We are having one in our house instead. In the broken down crumbling ruins of our house. In the muddy and brick filled garden.

And honestly I feel so excited about it.

I want to be his wife. I want him to be my husband. I want to take his name. I want to have a party and dance and shout and laugh and cry.

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Fanny Nushka Moreaux

 

 

 

 

My friend

I walked through the shopping center and saw a familiar face sitting by the ice cream stand.

I kept walking.

Then something made me stop. And turn.

I went back, drawn to her.

“Everything is not OK.” she said.

She told me some sad news. I am still thinking about it hours later.

Dissecting the conversation.

Thinking thinking thinking on it.

She seemed so strange and sad to me.

The anxious look in her eyes. Unsteady pupils.

Fear and anger and sorrow. My poor poor friend.

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Jaeyeol Han

 

Dungarees

Yesterday I made a pair of dungarees for Frankie. I had bought soft stripey fabric a few months ago with great plans to make him lots of things. It arrived in the post in a brown paper package and has sat under the bed since.

But last night, J came home early and put Frankie to bed. So I made up a quick pattern and sewed them up. I just need to hem them and put snaps on today and they will be finished.

Another project I have been tackling this week is painting and filling and installing shelves in an old doorway which we had built a stud partition behind.

I’ve nearly finished the painting and I’ve priced up shelf brackets and powder pink spray paint. Old floorboards are becoming shelves.

II have felt very out of control during pregnancy and after becoming a parent. The house renovations have been at a standstill since Frankie was born. My sewing has been in hibernation for years if I am honest.

With running, sewing, writing and now building (badly) I’m filling my time and doing things for myself. No one knows about the blog (not even J), or the shelves, or the dungarees or my running.

And it feels nice that I have this life now that I fill with what I want. I am so very lucky.

I do need to go back to work at some stage but for now I’m focusing on getting better. Getting better means I get to discover who I am and what I love again.

I had forgotten so much about myself.

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Pablo Montealegre

 

 

Running

I’ve been running. Its really helping to keep the anxiety at bay.

I go every second or third day. I run about 5k.

When I get back to the house and go in to have a shower I can taste the rush of endorphins. Its like I push a reboot button when I exercise.

I never exercised at all before I was 28. I wonder this was my body’s way of telling me to look after it, all of this anxiety and depression.

I get the feeling its not so simple unfortunately.

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Fanny Nushka

Sibling rivalry

I have fallen out with my sister. I don’t think she is a very nice person.

She is extremely negative. Always giving out about people. Especially people with children, especially people like me.

She makes lots of digs about my parenting.

Breastfeeding-pointless

Taking more than 6 months maternity leave- stupid and selfish and self indulgent

Being poor(ish)-I am not providing for my child.

Giving birth- a peace of piss, no one should give out about it

Anyways. We had a big argument and haven’t spoken in about two months or more.

I feel awful about it. Its really gnawing at me. I feel sick and really sad when I think about it.

Because I’m so angry about it. I want to scream at her that she is an asshole. That she is a fool.

I want her to be miserable. Unhappy.

I feel horrible for thinking these things.

I just want to speak to her but I don’t know where to start at all.

I feel like a child again.

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Agata Wierzbicka

Dogs

My dogs are rescue dogs. They are very nervous, they bark like crazy when a stranger calls. I have been working hard to calm them more. Bringing them on walks, keeping them inside when I leave the house, spending a lot of time petting them and sitting on the couch with them. They are improving slowly but surely.

I’ve had a few “episodes”. Very bad anxiety attacks. Whenever the dogs have been near me when this happens they go nuts at me.

Barking, high pitched. Even growling once. It can last for up to fifteen minutes.

Often when I have an anxiety attack I’m very silent. I might stand and shake. Sit and cry. Lie down in bed.

So I don’t think that I am startling them with noise or cries or screams.

It doesn’t seem to matter. They do it every time.

They no longer recognise me.

Dogs seem to be very sensitive animals. They must pick up on some frequency. They know something isn’t right.

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Brian Kershisnik