Truth be told

Right then

No more messing about.

The idea of me writing a blog came from a need to get all the horrible shit out of my head by being as honest as possible. I've congratulated myself on my bravery but lets face facts; I've written bugger all.

So the time has come. Everything is coming out now. I feel sick at the thought - how will it be perceived? Doesn't matter - I will stagnate no longer.

I've thought about death a lot lately. It's my belief that my being here serves no purpose and that everyone will be much better off without me here to complicate matters. I don't know if I'd ever do more than think about it but I've already got a rough idea of how I would make it happen. I keep having nightmares that I'm attacked in my living room. They are really vivid and involve me basically having the shit kicked out of me by person or persons unknown. As I lie on my floor breathing my last my OH comes home from work to find me there. I find the strength to tell him I love him, that the little man is safe and that he should move on. The dream then shows him in the hospital getting told that I've gone and although there is grief on his face there is also relief that I'm at piece and he can move on.

Most of the time I'm convinced he wants to leave me. I have no definite reasons for this. I don't see him much because of the hours he works. On weekends he catches up on his sleep and then wants to go out and visit his family. I never want to go anywhere because of the anxiety. Sometimes I go so we can spend time together but then I get upset because he'll wander from room to room to talk to people while I just sit in the one place feeling very much in the way. I can't ask him not to do these things - he should see his family. I need to socialise more and I enjoy their company very much but I know he'd enjoy himself more if I wasn't there with a face like thunder and the personality of a dead slug.

I get upset over the most stupidest of things. I get more upset when I try to talk about how I feel, the words come out choked when they come at all. I can bullshit all day long about the most trivial of subjects but when it comes to complete balls to the wall honesty I'm lost. He thinks he's responsible for my pnd and making me miserable. He can't see that its for him and the little man that I hang on so tightly. If I didn't have him I'd be lost.

I know I said at the beginning of this post that everything would come out but I'm totally drained. I'll need to psyche myself up for a while before I can consider opening so many wounds all at once again.

Till next time, ta ta!

Who am I?

I know its common for new parents to wonder if their individuality has been drowned by all things baby but this doesn't feel like it's a phase.

I used to identify myself by the things I used to enjoy. I got seriously into music in my teens - who didn't you may ask - and that love continued for a good long while. Not just new bands and artists but older people. I'd get such a buzz off falling in love with a random little song that no one else had heard of. Growing up it was radio 1 on an evening - Steve Lamacq followed by John Peel then Mark & Lard. I'd forsake sleep on many a night so I wouldn't miss these guru's of musical knowledge feeling like I was being enlightened in some way.

These days its a miracle if the radio gets played at all and if it is its generally just background "filler" music that I've heard a million times before.

It doesn't seem like a big deal when I read that back to myself but it feels like it. I don't miss going out drinking or any of the many other things that are sacrificed when there is a baby to care for. You may wonder what stops me enjoying music or film or books like I did - surely a baby wont get in the way of all that... You'd be right, he doesn't. He's more concerned with getting his toes into his mouth to worry about his mother's crisis of identity!

I've tried, I mean really tried to get back into my old routines of the radio on an evening with a book in hand but just cant seem to concentrate on anything. My attention span for anything that requires more than 20 or so minutes is just not there.

The reason this has become a major concern is that I want to come off my meds. I don't like them - they're supposed to make me calm on an evening to reduce me feeling anxious and panicky but instead I find they just knock me out. Not good, especially when you have to get up through the night to see to the baby. So I started to think of other times in my life when I would get stressed out and what would calm me down. That's when it dawned on me I couldn't name one current musical artist that I owned anything by. I couldn't remember the last book I bought. I couldn't remember getting really enthusiastic about anything to be honest and that makes me sad.

I'm determined to get back to myself somehow. Writing this entry has taken the most concentration I've given in ages. I've got the radio on in the background and I've had to tell myself off half a dozen times for trying to turn it off. The most important thing for me though is that I've got a smile on my face. It's just keeping it there that's tricky...