No pain no ….. No pain???

Oh my, I have just entered my third week of continual pain, I picked up a virus and it put the fibro into overdrive – damn you pain!

I have been able to manage the pain with painkillers and rest and zen! When the other half says ‘what’s up?’ I say ‘I’m Zenning it’

Basically- due to the new meds – I got down from 8 hardcore painkillers to just 2. Then it all went painful again …. Bugger.

Thing 2 was in a local production of Cats and I was in so much pain that when Thing 1 couldn’t make the second act because she ‘felt sick’ I offered to take her home. I love MUSICALS! (Except Cats actually) bah humbug. 

I spoke to the doctor too, so the drugs are being adjusted. 

In other news my job hunt is simply that, if something pings I might apply, but I also am enjoying the walking…. However loving the thought of not walking, which is mega sad, because – as the song goes – the drugs don’t work, every walk is pain, but every walk gives me time in the sun and I love my wonderful four legged babies. I want to grow that too!!

Life is strange and wonderful and awesome and complicated- that’s life though!


Stoats and Weasels

When out on a dog walk yesterday a weasel crossed my path, I knew it was a weasel a little bit because I grew up in the country, but mainly due to the cartoon series (from the book) the Animals of Farthing Wood. It reminded me of this very old joke:

What is the difference between a Stoat and a Weasel? 

A weasel is weaselly recognised and a Stoat is stoatally different!

So when can you tell a real tummy ache from a fake one? My Other half says to me I’m sure she (thing 1) fakes it sometimes for attention. So how do you know? I have her off school today – I know – again! However she is pale, feels sick, has a headache and is doubled over in pain: she had a bad day yesterday and it took all my cajoling and persuasive power to get her in (35 minutes after school started) I started 90 minutes before, but gone are the days where I can physically get her out of bed so we have to go step by step. Just to step into an aside for a moment, we send thing 2 to breakfast club when the big hairy one goes to work so she isn’t continually late – the school understands but she gets upset that she never gets picked for a morning job, so it seemed fair to send her for as many days as we can afford.

Back to Thing 1, last night she was curled up kitten like on my lap, upset that she felt sick and her tummy was hurting. I asked the doctor to run some blood tests to see if we are missing something (and to put her mind somewhat at rest because she hates the fact it’s not a definate cause and won’t accept anxiety – she likes a black and white solution – and migraines don’t hack it now) but he said he wouldn’t do it and would have to refer her back to her paediatrician for that – so now when she feels bad it’s back to another waiting game, she might as well ask what the weather will be like today because April seems to be unable to decide a course of action so, like the length of time it takes to get an appointment, I don’t bloody know! 

Back to the question about how do I know? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. What I do know is she is feeling it and sometimes I just need to let her know it’s OK and I’m here for her.

A whole lot of crazy

My lovely husband read my last blog post, I was surprised and said ‘you read my post! You never read my post!’ He said he doesn’t read them because he is ‘worried about the Cryptic messages in them’ – this is what it is like to live with someone who had depression, who was so broken they walked out of life, who has had to haul your ass into see a doctor and hold you when you didn’t know anything except you wanted to be held. The hardest part about caring for someone through their darkest days is that you want to help fix them but, because they don’t know how or what will fix them, all you can do is worry about them.

Then when they start winning and start fighting you don’t stop worrying, you see crazy when it’s not there.

So I am here to say that this is NOT a whole load of crazy. 

Recently I’ve been having hot flushes, feeling sick, nauseous and wobbly, so sweaty. They told me to expect it on the new meds but I feel so awful that I want to put my onesie on, and just lie down until it passes. It’s not a whole load of crazy, I just want you to make dinner.

If I say I want to tidy up you support me, you say, I’ll help but I say I want to get a job or I want to make my business more than it is, that I want to be successful – you don’t support me – you say I worry what it will do to you – even when I tell you why, or my plans – you don’t support me. I get it, you know I can tidy the house, you know it won’t break me but you don’t know what the other stuff is. It’s not a whole load of crazy, it’s me saying I want more, I want to turn 40 with more, not from you or the kids, but for me. I’m scared because I want a job that will push me and challenge me and a job that is worthy of me but all they will see is the crazy, so you need to support and help and not hide away because this is not a whole load of crazy.

I have a warm, loving husband, who is a great father and wonderful son, he has survived crazy and puts up with me, because I’ll always be a bit crazy. I love him though and maybe I’m asking too much, I just don’t want to get to 40 having settled. Don’t let me settle. Support me. I promise to tell you when I’m dialling up the crazy – don’t hide from me anymore. 


I am not good with change any more. I’m not sure I ever was. Except I know now that I’m not good with change … Now. So I’m evolving. 

To put it at a basal level – I want these things:

My daughter to have the very best, which is more than I can afford right now.

Someone to clean my house.

A puppy.


However it means making a lifestyle choice, which means changing. I’m doing it in my most glorious way! 

I feel capable, I feel able, I feel life is at my fingertips. 

I just need to work out how to make depression marketable!

The blog is back. 

I know it’s been a long while, let’s catch you guys up here. I had to come off my meds, which led to depression and a lot of naval gazing and falling and isolation and growing, however it’s new meds and they’ve kicked in and here I am all back to myself and suddenly I want to be more, do more, and – I’ve realised its time to return to the world of work- gosh – scary huh! I realise that I am ready to move forward. My lovely daughter (thing 1) is just mentally unstable and needs a psychologist but the only way we go forward in time is with a cash boost so, linked with the new me, the new drugs, I realise that I can be more for her if I can make more. I am worth more but now I need to spin mental illness and working for myself to the wage I need, no, deserve.
My blog is called Motherhood and Depression and now my blog is about how I make it back and deal with the small people and the illness. 

Moves forward.

Made up words

We use two made up words frequently in our family, crubbish and flunatic – of course there are probably more ‘street ‘ definitions. We use the first term generally to mean ‘rubbish’ (it just sounds better) and the second as a cross between a fool and a lunatic, when either term on it’s own is just not quite enough. I’m not sure what the term for being tired all evening until you lie in bed.

It could called ‘being 7’ as it seems to inflict Thing 2 on a regular basis, but I’m calling it blog

Moving on and being grown up about it, while recording your musings in writing.

Although it’s more than likely it’s the fact I’m at the Doctor tomorrow to go through the changing of the meds. So in that case it’s worry

Which means I am suffering from wlog.

Night All.


I have an hour to spend with my funny, busy dog, but after four hours sleep I wish he wasn’t a dog that likes to bark!

Thing 1, recently, has been behaving a lot better, she has been trying hard, we are still late, mainly because we aren’t there yet, her tummy problems are bad – seeing her paediatrician on Friday, but she’s been trying very hard. She has lost her RE book though, she was very upset about it. Her teacher had said ‘there is no way you can just lose a book!’ Ahem, welcome to my world. We are in the second week of losing Thing 2’s shoes!!

So today I had the task of speaking with her teacher to explain that you CAN just lose an RE book! I think I did it well – I made them laugh, which is something I do well – diffuse a situation with humour. I explained about having to come off my meds for the short term, I’ve got processes in place to deal with everyday routine, but things out of the ordinary can mega throw me! To them sending a different book home is nothing, on the wrong day for me it would become a blind spot. 

I told them that the whole thing of responsibility in year six is important, but she’s had to deal with things for the last two years! Emotionally she is fraught with how different she is and she has to cope with this wildly eccentric mother  … sometimes she does just need to be a child.

The teacher listened, smiled in the appropriate places, apologised for saying the ‘you can’t just lose a book thing’ – which I didn’t go in for- I thanked her. In a normal world you should be able to send a book home and it get back – we are just having a healthy dose of not normal right now. Who needs normal anyway!!

I wonder if teachers can tell by the child the Mother’s level of madness, I’m guessing they can. 

My little bean and my little fish, poor you.