For the last nine months I have been wrapped up in the cocoon of maternity leave where my days have revolved around playgroups and cake. Lunches have consisted of hurriedly eating leftovers with one fork while spoon feeding a baby and my only conversations have been around boobs, crawling, weaning and poo. This is a world that I have enjoyed greatly and would happily continue to inhabit if it wasn't for the empty wallet and candyfloss brain.
It is therefore time to think about a return to normality. Thankfully I am no corporate wage slave so my journey back is a little easier than most. Firstly I have applied to return to my job with a national charity for two days a week. Secondly I have signed up to become a Digital Mum in the hopes that I will be able to work flexibly from home around the needs of my daughter. The idea of Digital Mums is to harness the talent and potential of mums and train them to be social media managers. As I seem to spend a huge amount of my life using social media (when I'm not on Ebay that is!) it seems to make perfect sense to try and turn it into a career.
I was at one stage considering becoming a full time stay at home mum. As mentioned before I have loved every part of my maternity leave and think that looking after Stella is the best job in the world. However there have been a few things that have made me change my mind in the last month or so. The first is finances, I have always been very independent and although I am lucky enough to have a husband that earns a decent wage, the idea of having to ask him for money each month sent a shiver down my spine. After childcare I won't be earning a lot with my part time job but its enough to make me feel less like a kept woman.
The fact that I haven't met anyone else in my mum's network who is planning on becoming a full time mum also put me off, already my social circle is diminishing as mum friends return to work. I could just picture myself as the one mum in the corner with a child of Stella's age, possibly becoming the maternal figure with lots of new mums but not having anyone to share milestones with. Lastly it was the sheer monotony of housework that has driven me to retrain/ return to work. The reality of being a stay at home mum means that I am actually a traditional housewife, spending most of my day cooking and cleaning. At least if I am out of the house or earning money then this can be shared, possibly even with a paid cleaner.
I am hoping that I will be able to retain a really healthy work/ life balance and that my working will mean that I enjoy parenting even more. Working part time or from home will also hopefully enable me to witness all the firsts. Stella is already crawling but I hope to be around for her first steps and words. I realise I am a lot luckier than most being in a situation where I have the choices that I do and hope to carry on being a mum first and foremost.
Tuesday 16 September 2014
Thursday 4 September 2014
Keeping quiet is the real killer
The World Health Organisation has today published its first report on suicide worldwide and its a pretty grim picture with a person taking their own life every 40 seconds. India tops the leader board and generally it is poorer countries that have higher rates of suicide.
The report suggests that there are ways to cut numbers for example by reducing access to things like guns and pesticides, by the media of each country being careful how they report suicide and for each government to have a suicide prevention plan (currently only 28 do). The biggest killer here though is possibly the stigma and shame that surrounds suicide, meaning that people are too scared to talk about it.
Probably pretty commonly my family has the shadow of suicide hanging over it, only in our family it is out in the open, for many suicide has been covered up and history rewritten. My grandfather took his own life, this was blamed on money problems and a son with a heroin addiction but suicide is generally a very complex thing and it could have been a combination of many different factors. The impact it had on my family was immense with years of guilt, regret and anger colouring any fond memories.
Years later, as a teenager my sister took a large overdose of paracetamol, thankfully she lived although ironically this may have had something to do with her eventual death from liver damage 20 years later. However although she was clearly very ill both mentally and physically she was treated with such distain and lack of sympathy from everyone around her, particularly the medical staff and my parents. She was blamed for being so 'silly' and for causing so much trouble. As a family we then had to go to counselling and I remember the resentment oozing out of every pore as we sat there every week trying to paint a picture of the Brady Bunch when in reality we were much more like Shameless. Needless to say as soon as we were discharged it was never mentioned again, nor did anyone think to ask why she had done it.
These experiences as well as hearing of other families situations and of course reading about high profile cases in the media meant that I had a view of suicide as something that only very selfish people did, after all why would you leave others behind you unless you were a really horrible person. Then I had my own experience and everything changed.
My suicidal thought came at a time in my life when I was very ill with (as yet undiagnosed) bi-polar. I had really shocked myself when one day I was crossing a bridge over the Thames when I suddenly had the thought of jumping. This idea became all encompassing, at first just when I was near the river but eventually the thoughts would pop up wherever and whenever. It came to a head one night when I found myself on a bridge seriously thinking about climbing over. Thankfully I had the Samaritan's number in my phone and spent the next hour on the phone to someone who just listened. By the time I finished the call I had decided to seek help and went to A&E where luckily my experience was very positive.
At first I did speak about my experience, with my husband who wondered why I arrived back in the house by taxi early the next day, with my work who needed to know why I wasn't coming in and also with the support workers, social workers and doctors who were all sent to see me. However that was as far as it went, I found myself feeling embarrassed and ashamed about what 'I had done'. I even hid further suicidal thoughts from those around me, not wanting to upset anyone. But it is this very silence that will go on to encourage more to take their own life. Unless we can all start sharing our experiences, getting the subject out in the open and encouraging the media to report suicide in a sensitive and responsible way then the shame and stigma of suicide will drive more to take that decision, no matter where in the world they are.
The report suggests that there are ways to cut numbers for example by reducing access to things like guns and pesticides, by the media of each country being careful how they report suicide and for each government to have a suicide prevention plan (currently only 28 do). The biggest killer here though is possibly the stigma and shame that surrounds suicide, meaning that people are too scared to talk about it.
Probably pretty commonly my family has the shadow of suicide hanging over it, only in our family it is out in the open, for many suicide has been covered up and history rewritten. My grandfather took his own life, this was blamed on money problems and a son with a heroin addiction but suicide is generally a very complex thing and it could have been a combination of many different factors. The impact it had on my family was immense with years of guilt, regret and anger colouring any fond memories.
Years later, as a teenager my sister took a large overdose of paracetamol, thankfully she lived although ironically this may have had something to do with her eventual death from liver damage 20 years later. However although she was clearly very ill both mentally and physically she was treated with such distain and lack of sympathy from everyone around her, particularly the medical staff and my parents. She was blamed for being so 'silly' and for causing so much trouble. As a family we then had to go to counselling and I remember the resentment oozing out of every pore as we sat there every week trying to paint a picture of the Brady Bunch when in reality we were much more like Shameless. Needless to say as soon as we were discharged it was never mentioned again, nor did anyone think to ask why she had done it.
These experiences as well as hearing of other families situations and of course reading about high profile cases in the media meant that I had a view of suicide as something that only very selfish people did, after all why would you leave others behind you unless you were a really horrible person. Then I had my own experience and everything changed.
My suicidal thought came at a time in my life when I was very ill with (as yet undiagnosed) bi-polar. I had really shocked myself when one day I was crossing a bridge over the Thames when I suddenly had the thought of jumping. This idea became all encompassing, at first just when I was near the river but eventually the thoughts would pop up wherever and whenever. It came to a head one night when I found myself on a bridge seriously thinking about climbing over. Thankfully I had the Samaritan's number in my phone and spent the next hour on the phone to someone who just listened. By the time I finished the call I had decided to seek help and went to A&E where luckily my experience was very positive.
At first I did speak about my experience, with my husband who wondered why I arrived back in the house by taxi early the next day, with my work who needed to know why I wasn't coming in and also with the support workers, social workers and doctors who were all sent to see me. However that was as far as it went, I found myself feeling embarrassed and ashamed about what 'I had done'. I even hid further suicidal thoughts from those around me, not wanting to upset anyone. But it is this very silence that will go on to encourage more to take their own life. Unless we can all start sharing our experiences, getting the subject out in the open and encouraging the media to report suicide in a sensitive and responsible way then the shame and stigma of suicide will drive more to take that decision, no matter where in the world they are.
Wednesday 3 September 2014
Booze blues
Watching the horrific pictures of Gazza this last week has made me so sad as it always does when there a high profile illness or death from alcohol. Watching as faces become gaunt or bloated, skin develops a yellow hue and all the light goes out from their eyes. I think this time it has been particularly hard as it clashes with the anniversary of my sister's death from alcohol.
Lizzy died five years ago in her early 30's from liver failure. She left behind in her wake a shocked family including a 13 year old son who we eventually inherited. There were so many questions, namely how could a mum so young drink herself to death and how on earth we didn't notice it was happening.
Of course we all knew she had a drinking problem but being a true alcoholic is very secretive and private, well it is for most heavy drinkers. My dad was the exception to the norm. He wore his alcoholism on his sleeve like a badge of honour, earned initially in the 'good old days of Fleet Street'. He was unapologetic and open about his level of abuse and always seemed to have exciting adventures and encounters wherever he went, so little wonder my big sister thought that the world through the eyes of a drunk was an exciting place.
Of course the reality is very different. Being an addict is actually very boring as all that really matters in your life is getting your next fix. Alcohol at least is linked to having a good social life but it is not really the pub you are enjoying, more the booze which of course is cheaper at home. My dad was also a very functioning alcoholic, he wrote books, ran a magazine and was also a freelance journalist while under the influence. Lizzy never achieved a vocation, becoming a mum young she soon settled into the routine of staying up drinking all night and sleeping for most of the day, as soon as her son was old enough to take care of himself.
It is still the shame of having an addict in the family that allows them to continue unchecked. Even when there were family interventions they were met with such denial that it was hard to believe that everything wasn't as good as she said. At least with Gazza he seems to admit that he has a problem and wants to get help for it, after all that is the first step. Too late for my sister but hopefully not too late for others in the same boat.
Lizzy died five years ago in her early 30's from liver failure. She left behind in her wake a shocked family including a 13 year old son who we eventually inherited. There were so many questions, namely how could a mum so young drink herself to death and how on earth we didn't notice it was happening.
Of course we all knew she had a drinking problem but being a true alcoholic is very secretive and private, well it is for most heavy drinkers. My dad was the exception to the norm. He wore his alcoholism on his sleeve like a badge of honour, earned initially in the 'good old days of Fleet Street'. He was unapologetic and open about his level of abuse and always seemed to have exciting adventures and encounters wherever he went, so little wonder my big sister thought that the world through the eyes of a drunk was an exciting place.
Of course the reality is very different. Being an addict is actually very boring as all that really matters in your life is getting your next fix. Alcohol at least is linked to having a good social life but it is not really the pub you are enjoying, more the booze which of course is cheaper at home. My dad was also a very functioning alcoholic, he wrote books, ran a magazine and was also a freelance journalist while under the influence. Lizzy never achieved a vocation, becoming a mum young she soon settled into the routine of staying up drinking all night and sleeping for most of the day, as soon as her son was old enough to take care of himself.
It is still the shame of having an addict in the family that allows them to continue unchecked. Even when there were family interventions they were met with such denial that it was hard to believe that everything wasn't as good as she said. At least with Gazza he seems to admit that he has a problem and wants to get help for it, after all that is the first step. Too late for my sister but hopefully not too late for others in the same boat.
Tuesday 2 September 2014
Panic stations
While reading the Guardian magazine this weekend I was pleasantly surprised to come across a Q&A with the singer Laura Mvula not just because she is a pretty amazing singer but because alongside her obsession with Prince she spoke very openly about having panic attacks. It was great to see someone so famous speaking so candidly about this, particularly one who appears so confident and happy to be in the public eye.
Unfortunately on googling her I noticed that she had tweeted about having 'several panic attacks' during the final episode of Sherlock because it was so good.
Unfortunately on googling her I noticed that she had tweeted about having 'several panic attacks' during the final episode of Sherlock because it was so good.
This kind of language feeds into so many myths around mental health and is a real misuse of language and meaning. As someone who has suffered debilitating panic attacks in the past that affected every part of my life, I bristle greatly when someone announces dramatically that they 'nearly had a panic attack' when what they really mean is that they became stressed or worried. It is similar to people talking about being 'depressed' when actually they are feeling a bit down or claims of being a 'little bit OCD' just because you like things in order. In short this kind of throwaway statement really trivialises mental health conditions and downplays the life changing consequences for many.
That is not to say there cannot be some light when it comes to mental health problems and maybe I am being too harsh. Maybe because Mvula is a true sufferer she feels she is able to joke about her condition. In the same way I will often term myself 'a bit mad' which is a word that offends many. Of course I wouldn't use this if talking about someone else or generally about mental health but as a personal description it is something I feel very comfortable with.
I shouldn't underestimate the power of her talking about her panic attacks. People are still so ashamed of mental health conditions. When asked about how close she has come to dying Mvula replies;
'Pretty much every day. I have panic attacks, and when you have a panic attack, you think you're dying.'
'Pretty much every day. I have panic attacks, and when you have a panic attack, you think you're dying.'
This is the experience of the millions of people who experience panic attacks, many without realising what they are, so if reading about her experience encourages just one person to seek help then it is worth it.
Of course such a format means that we don't know if Mvula is seeking help for panic attacks herself which may leave readers feeling as though they are something that you just have to put up with. I have a friend who has not travelled on public transport in London for years because of untreated panic attacks and yet I found a course of intensive CBT combined with medication allowed me to live my life again. Not that it works (or is available!) for everyone but it is all too easy to dismiss mental illness as something that is just there rather that something that can be changed.
I hope we hear more from Laura Mvula about her panic attacks and how she copes with them. Anxiety which is often underlying in people who panic can make people feel as though they are somehow weak or unable to cope and so to see someone succeeding in such a tough industry as well as admitting there is a problem is a breath of fresh air, as long as she thinks before she tweets in future!
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