Backward from 16

I realised this week that I can start counting down, rather than up.

This is quite the revelation, since I have always been better at counting down than counting up. I should probably actually research the psychological reason I work better like this, because I’d definitely enjoy understanding why, but for whatever selection of reasons, knowing how far I have TO GO, rather than stating how long I’ve been GOING has just always made for a more positive outlook and successful outcome. Expectations are more clearly outlined for me when I look at how long I have to complete a task. Call it being highly practical if you will, but I feel like counting down helps me to allocate time and tasks more effectively and efficiently. Breaking an insurmountable task into manageable chunks is easier when you have a deadline. Creating space for yourself is easier when you understand your limitations and parameters. I’m so glad I’m away, in the ranges, resetting my brain and resting my soul. I have something to look forward to now. It’s not something so distant and intangible for me anymore. Thank god for my “what to expect” app including ‘weeks to go’ on my homepage. Maybe I should have been using that app more than the babycentre one. Haha apps. Ridiculous. What a time. I’m so damn ready to have this kiddo. He’s gonna be such a rad dude.

Overload or self-isolating

Ok. I’m done discussing it now, she says, as she opens a new blog entry to discuss it. I’m overwhelmed by people’s opinions on my experience, my body, and my ride. Comments about how motherhood might soften me make me feel misunderstood and misrepresented. I’m the softest fucker out there when it comes to me fur and feather children. I’m soft with my friends, and I’m (getting better at being) soft with myself. Don’t tell me that “it’ll all be worth it” as if i get a prize at the end of this. Don’t tell me “once you hold that baby you’ll be ready to do it all again” umm no. I won’t. Because I don’t repeat patterns of behaviour that are of clear and direct detriment to my mental health… anymore…

Boomers telling me to chill out. To relax. As if I’m not meditating more than I have in my entire life. Suggesting I’m a snowflake for struggling and EXPRESSING my struggle, honestly and candidly. I’m trying to be open, raw, honest, as I am with everything in my life, but apparently now is not the time. So I’ll retreat a little. Mention it less. Share less. And just experience it. A depressive episode every 10-14 days is becoming the norm, 3-4 day migraines are just wiping me out completely, and I’m beginning to get very selective with how I spend my spoons.

I’ll reiterate… For myself more than anything because I’m not encouraging a lot of people to actively read this; I’m pumped as shit to meet this dude. I’m super excited to parent. Good times and bad. No, I will not “wait until they get to toddler age and start answering back” or until “the teenage years” I’ll simply try to remain whole and woke, and connected as I prepare this old soul in a new body to take on this fragile and volatile world. I realise that lighthearted remarks like these are probably an attempt to make me feel better about pregnancy. I get it. Cheers guys. But it’s not helping, so I’m going to remove myself from it. What I need is acceptance and understanding of the eb and flow. Awareness of who I really am and, therefore how deeply this has impacted on my mental and physical health and motivation. I know I’m not the worst off. I know because I’m walking alongside an incredible woman who is having major complications so early in her pregnancy that she’s spending nights in hospital almost weekly, with health complications galore. BUT that doesn’t mean that my experience is any less valid, any less important. I think I’m especially struggling because of the timing of this. I had really started to create this beautiful and ideal life for myself, and I had to stop. I mean, I get it. I’ve already learned about my motivation and that I probably need to appreciate my strongest physical form more when I have it, cool, but I can’t help but tantrum a little, every now and then, that when things started looking cool and a road mapped out for me, I got a detour sign.

So I don’t want to isolate. Because that won’t help. I was helpfully informed yesterday that when I have post natal depression, I won’t want to be around anyone. Thank you. Thank you for your valid and most useful opinion. However, post natal depression will just be another type of depression for me, I believe, and I know what I’ll NEED (not want. I never said I’d WANT visitors) to keep me from falling in the hole. And, unfortunately for me and depression, it’s people. I isolate so rapidly and definitively that I’ll NEED people ignoring my foul mood and sitting with me regardless. I’ll need to be force fed probably, and definitely have many many cups of tea made for me. God I hope I don’t become a nightmare for Paul. He assures me I’m fine. I always believe him when he says anything because he’s never lied to me once. But I’m… no, my self-doubt is dubious about his level of tolerance for my rubbish for too long.

I have 4 months to go. I feel a little like I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m getting there. So maybe if I can just keep my mouth shut a bit, for a bit, I’ll make it through and not feel completely bombarded by opinions. My ever-insightful best friend laughed yesterday when I told her I’m done being open about the whole process. She said “I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long to be honest”, it reminded me that I knew this was coming. I knew I’d be inundated with opinions. And that I’d struggle with it. Because I struggle with the asleep population to begin with. Not to mention when they begin to comment on my experience of something they have completely different paradigms on.