Home, Sweet Home

Rory and I are finally home!

I could never have imagined that when Duncan, Rory and I left on Good Friday for a long weekend in Dunsborough that I would also journey to Bunbury and Perth and wouldn't be home for over a month.  Yet, God in His loving wisdom knew that was what I needed.

I have mixed feelings about being home.  It is a place associated with unhappy memories over the past few months.  I just remember days of being unable to calm an unsettled baby, feeling like I just wanted to lie down and never wake up, that I was trapped in a nightmare.  Then there was the anxiety.  I felt like I was tiptoeing around, jumping at small noises and shaking randomly.  I just wanted to shut myself away from the world where nobody would be looking at me and Rory with curious smiles on their faces, wondering if I was going to sink or swim as a parent.

Things have changed for the better since I've been away.  I have to keep reminding myself that I'm not the same person I was before.  I'm armed with medication, new skills and confidence to fight my depression.  Home seems eerily quiet after the hustle and bustle of the MBU.  Whereas before the noise, people and crying babies would have elevated my stress levels, I miss the staff, patients and babies, the full days and the parks, shops and activity of Subiaco.  I asked Duncan if we could move to Subi and he just laughed and asked me if I'd seen the price of houses there recently.  I think Rory might be a city bubba.  He loved the excitement and the noise and having lots of nurses to fuss over him.  He is now quite the little charmer!  Instead of being a hermit, I'm determined to get out more with him.

I'll be continuing therapy to help rid myself of unhelpful thinking styles.  I realised that the reason I was shutting myself away from people was that I feared they were judging me for having an unsettled baby.  I now realise that 'mind reading' is terribly unhelpful.  There is no way I can presume to know what people are thinking.

Today Rory and I had our first day alone together while Duncan was at work.  I enjoyed the time I spent with him.  We went for a lovely long walk with the dogs.  We had cuddles.  I loved seeing him look at his reflection in a mirror and smile and giggle.  Although I'm so very glad the newborn stage is over and I'm enjoying having a three-month-old, I can now see how stressed I was becoming because I worried too much about housework and resented Rory for keeping me from it.  I still buzz around doing a few things while he sleeps (he still catnaps a lot unfortunately), but I've drastically lowered the high bar I'd set for myself.  I might not have much to show for my day, but at least I will have some good memories.

The first time I brought Rory home from a hospital, things didn't go so well.  I'm sure there will be still be days that won't.  But I no longer wish the days away in despair.  I have new hope and I'm thankful for a new chance to grow in my role as Rory's mum.

Compassion Fatigue

Do you ever wonder if your friends will tire of your problems and give up on you?

I didn't know it had a name, but it does.  It's called 'compassion fatigue'.  One of the ladies who was here in hospital with me before she was discharged over a week ago, brought it up during one of our group sessions.  It's something that the carers of depressed people may be prone to.

Sometimes I worry that my friends may suffer from compassion fatigue as my struggle goes on.  While they have been an absolutely fantastic support so far, it's not easy giving and giving to someone who can't give much in return.  I've been guilty of having compassion fatigue with some friends.  I start off determined to be alongside them every step of the way, but as their battles go on, I become weary.  I realise I signed up for a marathon, not a sprint.  It's hard to keep being there for someone who is always sad.  It's hard to keep listening to someone who is obsessing over the same guy years after he told her he wasn't interested in her romantically.  It's hard dealing with broken people in a broken world, being a broken person yourself, and fighting the urge to just shout, "Oh, get over it!"

I don't want to suffer from compassion fatigue, nor do I want others to give up on me.  When I lose patience with friends for not taking steps forward in my time, I'm reminded that they are people, not projects.  Things happen in God's time and not mine.  I can't fix them, but I can be there for them.

To all the friends who've stood by me...thank you!  Thank you for labouring on day by day in supporting me, even when I can't offer much in return.

Quote of the Day

Trouble is a sieve through which we sift our acquaintances.  Those too big to pass through are our friends.
- Arlene Francis

The Pendulum: Depression and Anxiety

Since being officially diagnosed with postnatal depression I've done a fair bit of pondering over the past few weeks.  The main questions I keep rehashing in my mind are:

Am I sick?
Or am I sinning?
Or is it a bit of both?

If depression is an 'illness', am I responsible for my actions?
Or is it like cancer in that it solely needs to be treated by medication alone?
Do I have a part to play?

I've found the Christian and the secular approaches to depression and anxiety to be both helpful and unhelpful as I've been in recovery.  While many Christians do see depression as a mental illness, and I've had many Christian friends from church and elsewhere who've offered AMAZING support, Christians with depression are always going to encounter the, Anxiety is a sin, and, You need to have joy in the Lord responses.  These responses are truly shattering if you have depression.  Yes, there is truth that we are all guilty of not trusting God and giving way to fear and anxiety, but to say such blunt things to a fellow Christian who is suffering is cruel to say the least.  I do not want to be depressed and I do not want to be anxious.  I want to have joy in the Lord.  But I am also sick and need medication to help me think clearly.  I know some Christians are sceptical about mental illness, thinking that doctors hand out anti-depressants like they're lollies, but I can honestly say medication has been a real blessing for me.  I'm gradually starting to feel like myself for the first time in a long time.  I can see why it is tempting to be treated entirely by the secular approach.  Non-Christians tend to offer a lot more sympathy.

There are inevitably many secular approaches that I find unhelpful or limited in their helpfulness.  As great as psychologists can be, I find it hard to have conversations when we have such differing worldviews.  I need to be reminded that God is sovereign, not to 'believe in myself'.  I am not strong; I am weak, but I have a great God who wants to shoulder my burdens.  For this reason I'm hoping to see a Christian counsellor when I get discharged.  I need someone who sees depression as an illness, but reminds me that God is there and that He has paid the penalty for all my sin.

Having said all that, I do really appreciate the holistic approach that this place is offering me.  Obviously it is lacking in the spiritual sense, but I have found the practical nature of Cognitive Behaviour Therapy to be beneficial.  The staff here acknowledge that I am unwell and need medication to help me get well, but I also need to do some of the work.  I have to confront my anxiety about going out in public with Rory.  The medication helps stabilise my mood so I can then start examining and correcting negative thought patterns that have built up over time (and there are a lot of them).

Am I sick?  Yes.
Am I accountable?  Yes.

Satan knows that if he attacks the mind, then it is often more harmful than if he were to attack the body alone.  A man's spirit sustains him in sickness, but a crushed spirit who can bear? Proverbs 18:14.

I found this article, Double Dangers: Maximizing and Minimizing Mental Illness (via In All Honesty) to be very useful in pondering this subject.

The Bubba: 6-13 Weeks

Rory is getting fatter...and fatter.  He is so cute and did his first ever giggle the other day.

6 weeks

Rory and Roary. 6 weeks

 

 With his friends Roary and Fishy. 8 weeks

 

Daddy's boy. 9 weeks

 

All ready to go to a 30th birthday party. 9 weeks

 

Country boy. 9 weeks

 

Big smiles. 9 weeks

 

This photo was taken in hospital.  I sent it to Duncan

because he misses us so much.  11 weeks

 

Full. 11 weeks

 

 

Fun on the playmat.  11 weeks

 

So colourful and exciting.  13 weeks

 

13 weeks

 

 

Tummy time. 13 weeks

 

13 weeks

 

The vest Duncan's auntie knitted for him. 13 weeks

 

Handsome smiley fella.  13 weeks

 

Bible Verse of the Day

What I'm clinging to at the moment:

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time.  Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.
1 Peter 5:6-7

Unwell by Matchbox 20

This song has been stuck in my head a lot over the past few weeks.

All day,
Staring at the ceiling,
Making friends with shadows on my wall.
All night,
Hearing voices telling me that I should get some sleep,
Because tomorrow might be good for something.
Hold on,
I'm feeling like I'm heading for a breakdown.
I don't know why.

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell.
I know right now you can't tell,
But stay a while and maybe then you'll see,
A different side of me.
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired,
I know, right now you don't care,
But soon enough you're gonna think of me,
And how I used to be.

Lyrics from here.