Where art meets life.

I used to be

I used to be

The post below may come as a surprise to some. If you feel the need to judge, rather keep it to yourself. This is a safe space not only for me to express who I am, but for my readers to feel they can share their most shameful moments. No trolls will be tolerated.

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I haven’t been myself lately. Well, to be more accurate, I haven’t been a self I identify with.

So much has changed: circumstances, expectations, responsibilities and of course, me. I believe that all these factors have affected who I am today. Obviously, right?

My parents, more so my dad, always pushed for my sister and I to grow up strong and independent women. More specifically not need a man. He’d often ask either one of us to help him with his handyman duties around the house. In the end, we could change plugs and have a good handle over traditional male duties. And for a while, I bought into that. I didn’t only know how to handle myself; I eventually didn’t want a man. My goals changed from wanting to be an artist to being an accountant, living alone and starting my own NGO.

But then I discovered boys. And those butterflies. And kissing.

Long story short: I dropped out of university to become a dancer. And not long after that I fell pregnant with my eldest son, Cayden.

My timing of having a kid sucked. That’s the bottom line of it all. Of course children are a blessing, but when I had Cayden, it was like I destroyed every bit of trust my parents had in me. I let them down. I let them down because they had more in store for me, you know? As all parents do, they wanted me to succeed and not have to endure hardships and challenges (unnecessarily). They wanted to protect me, but I showed them they can’t. I took away their power and showed them I have a will of my own. And in the end, they were disappointed with what I used my powers for.

The pregnancy was a major challenge. I couldn’t celebrate or drown in the joys of it because I felt like I wasn’t allowed to. I had no right. Every ache and pain and worry, I would be too scared to mention. As if to say, “Hey, if you’re feeling pain, so what. You deserve it.” I read so many magazines, hoping to find answers and comfort. It was tough. I remember my dad sitting us down in a family meeting after they found out I was pregnant, and telling me I can’t have a 21st party because of this. It was my punishment. He went on to say that I took away the opportunity for him to say something good about me or that he’s proud of me because of what I had done. Harsh perhaps, but I knew he was just saying those things because he was hurt and let down.

When Cayden came, my parents fell in love with him immediately. It surprised me. What didn’t go away though, was this bitter taste in my mouth: I was a disappointment. They said they would support me if I wanted to go study. And so I did. I went to UCT and in my first year, I stumbled a bit. But when second year came, I decided to prove that I was not a liability and that I am worthy of love and praise. Sounds stupid but it worked.  I pushed myself to achieve awards and worked part-time. I think it was then that I lost the plot. Towards the end of my second year, a fellow student told me about a student organization he and two others started. I was swept away by the idea and felt that I could add value. Come third year, and I was heavily involved. Before I knew it, I was voted in as Chairperson. I was never scared. I loved the responsibility of taking this new organization to new heights. I wanted to ensure that every student is valued and that their voice was worth something. I put a lot of energy into this (besides my studies where I had 4 or 5 courses to grapple with). I also was a single parent (dating guys but got engaged at one time).

I was driven. I was in control. But I was only in control at that one point.

Thereafter, a world of a mess ensued.

The following year, I enrolled in my courses, but something else seemed to take control. I was chairperson of 2 organizations, worked full time (I know), was involved in other roles in our Student Parliament. I was ALSO managing/ a booking agent for FIVE bands. I was also a journalist for two online magazines. I also traveled to England for a conference. I didn’t even mention being a single parent (STILL dating many guys). I didn’t know I was manic. I wasn’t blessed with my diagnosis at that time.

I’m not going to go into detail where I came to understand my diagnosis and the consequences of being labeled as someone with Bipolar Disorder. Believe me, there’s quite the story.

No.

Rather, I’m to focus on my manic spell. I did all that I mentioned above AND started an online magazine and a parenting blog (in addition to the blog I was already running). To say that I was busy, is not only an understatement, but also a lie. I was doing the impossible! And it’s at that time that I met my last boyfriend (my now husband). He was totally smitten and the fact that I was such a winner, obviously impressed him. I say obviously because DAMN I was good!

He was mesmerized by my so-called drive. The fact that I couldn’t stop turned him on? I don’t know. But who wouldn’t be swept away by my charisma, my visionary persona and my can’t-beat-me –at-this-game attitude? I was on top of my game. Hell, I made all the rules. Until. Until I crashed because I know what goes up must go DOWN.

I was SEXY (Yes, dare I say it.)

I was in control (I juggled student organizations and so much more)

I was ambitious (I knew I was going to take over the world) ßdelusional

Darryl fell hook, line and sinker.

When I descended into my first “official” depressive episiode, Darryl was there to make sure I took my medications and so forth. I went from being a woman who did NOT need a MAN to relying on Darryl for every dose of meds, food and taking Cayden to school. I broke into a million pieces. I crumbled right before his very eyes. I, the Yvette everyone knew, died a million deaths.

All that was left was an outer shell and bits and pieces of me that I needed to rebuild.

No one told me that this rebuilding would take years and years. Besides losing my reputation, I lost many parts of myself: good, great and the ugly parts.

I found myself with a new diagnosis, pregnant (again) and without work.

What a waste right?

The rest of the story’s details are nestled safely between the pages of my memoir. Now, I’d like to highlight that I came from being an over-achiever (as per the words of Ronelle Anthony-Jones) to being a pitiful excuse of a human being. My ambition rotted in the pit of my stomach. My will to live disappeared in the promise of tomorrow. There was no tomorrow.

Over the next few months I tried to normalize- I tried to do what normal people to: live and have some sort of goal.

I failed.

Since that breakdown, I crawled my way through life. I tried to be a (good) mother. I did. I tried. Really. But I have to acknowledge that I was not the same person people knew to grow and love.

The point of this blogpost was to show that I was not the person I was way back when. I was someone new. I was a big lump of coal. Obviously, I had the potential of being something great BUT I wasn’t.

So much happened since then- I’m 31 and what a mission it has been to not only pick up where I left off BUT to find some sort of direction as to where I need to be AND believe that every bit of effort is worth it.

As I sit here, drinking the fourth glass of wine, I can’t expect myself to actually know what I am worth and know that whatever “goal” I set is worthy of pursuing.

For the past while (and I use this term loosely), I have been trying to be a mother, a wife and just, Yvette. And so I’ve sucked. I’ve wanted to do more and I’ve failed because the fact of the matter is: I cannot. Imagine your wings being clipped (assuming you can fly). Imagine, your breath being sucked away. Imagine someone destined to be a juggler with no arms.

Since the breakdown, I have nothing more to give the world. Actually nothing. I haven’t been motivated to write, to lead and sometimes (yes) to live. I have documented some of my depressive spells, but that’s not my point of the post.

I used to be driven and motivated and clear. I had goals and motivation to achieve those goals.

It’s like I was a different person.

I skimmed the bottom of the ocean: I found myself ebbing between an okay of a human to feeling like the pits.

I didn’t want to live.

I can’t romanticize that.

I drank too much; I hid bottles of Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay in my cupboard. I’d pour it with ice (Duh) in a normal drinking glass. It was hidden in my cupboard, by my bra’s in addition to slabs of chocolate.  Every second day I’d have a glass. It didn’t end there. I would buy two bars of TV bars (the white kind) and hide it under my pillow. The wrappers would be hidden in the side pocket of my bag.

Typing this reveals my short-comings.

It reveals my shame! Why hide the wine? Why hide the chocolate?

Because it’s wrong.

It is wrong because I am NOT taking care of myself, my mind or otherwise.

I WAS/AM PURPOSEFULLY PUTTING MYSELF IN THE POSITION TO PUT MY OWN NEEDS DOWN.

Nobody will understand. Nobody will give a damn.

BUT.

There is a huge difference between WHO I am now as who I was then, manic or depressed.

And I may not be able to explain exactly, but I know there’s a huge difference to how my life has changed- my reason for living has changed. I live for my husband and kids but I struggle to live and aim for more! If I ever really put to words that I truly don’t give a damn, I don’t. Yes. I said it.

Before I had ambition pulsating through my veins!

Now, almost 5 years into marriage, I safely can say that I, Yvette Hess, do not know what I am doing. Well, not always.

I feel like, I need to get to know myself again, learn the ins and outs as to who I am.

It seems too simple looking at all of this. It’s seems simple looking at what was expected at the time. It’s seems simple looking at the “whole” picture. But it isn’t.

The truth of the matter is that often, if not always, I wanted to die.

And as much we worked through this, that feeling never really settled. On my current treatment, I admit, that the want to die has numbed a bit, but in its place I carry a cloak heavy with the feeling of not being good enough. It’s just as burdensome, just as damaging.

I often forget I still have life.

Today, you can look at me and think, “Hey, she’s got it all together.”

But I don’t.

Every single day is a constant struggle. And it starts from the morning straight through to when I go to bed.

Firstly my sleeping tablets are so strong that it is a great effort just to wake up. That and I don’t want to wake up. I want to sleep; I want to hide. Anyway, after dragging myself out of bed, I brush my teeth (sometimes I don’t), get dressed, put on my slippers and head out the front door to take Cayden to school. While sitting in the car, I need to decide if I should put my seatbelt on or not. I grapple with this for a while. It’s like there’s a tiny voice that talks me out looking after myself, or seeing myself as worth loving. I am torn. As I delve into this pool, I drive to the school experiencing more anguish. As if it couldn’t get any worse.

Throughout the WHOLE 25 minute journey, I constantly picture myself getting into an accident. I imagine head on collisions and other fender benders. It’s a stream of violent images rushing in. I have no defenses. With every kilometer I drive, I sit fighting the fear, fighting the anxiety. When I finally stop at the school, I take about 30 minutes to recoup and try to prepare for the way back.

On my way, I stop in at Pick ‘n Pay (yes with my slippers). I don’t give a damn, remember. I buy two chocolates and can feel how the cashier is judging me. I know she’s also staring at my flaking scalp psoriasis. I can feel her eyes. In my mind I know she’s so disgusted. I am too. I get into the car and immediately unwrap one of the chocolates. Into the mouth it goes and I can feel immediate calm. The mouthful swirls around my mouth and it is an absolute joy, it’s like magic. And then the guilt sets in. Quick, another bite. Bliss. More guilt. I finish both chocolates before I get home.

Gah! What can I say?

My behaviour is inexcusable, right?

Possibly.

Things got so bad that I started drinking more than one bottle of wine and got drunk twice in the week (the first time I was dealing very badly with the death of my uncle). I’m not going to say tipsy because I was way beyond that. I was not myself at all. Darryl was obviously very concerned and asked for my therapist and psychiatrist’s number. I felt so bad. I felt embarrassed. In fact, I was drowning in shame. What the hell was I doing to myself?

I decided not to give him the numbers (I was scared he was going to just embarrass me more) and called both of them. I got the appointments the very next week.

First appointment was with my therapist. I decided I was not going to lie and told her everything: from the wine to the chocolates and everything in between. My biggest fear was that she was going to tell me I have a problem with alcohol… But she took me totally by surprise. She said that I’m buying the sweets and the chocolates and the wine because I was bored out of my mind. Apparently, the constant need for the sugar is an indicator that I need to be stimulated and stimulated in a specific way. She explained that I am a social person and the fact that I was not interacting with people on a daily basis (like going to work and having colleagues) was having a negative effect on me. This, despite the fact that I am a stay-at-home mom. In fact, this is actually worsening the problem. I am not a stay-at-home type of mom. It wasn’t that I didn’t love the kids, it was more that I wasn’t getting fulfillment and I was craving engaging with adults.

Second appointment with the psychiatrist went well too. She confirmed what the therapist had said. I was displaying heavy self-destructive behaviour. She prescribed something for my anxiety (Stressam) and advised that we should look into a weight loss strategy, because I need to feel good about myself again. I know it seems like body-shaming, but truth be told, I am not happy being this size. And at the moment I have little self discipline to start anything new, even if it’s a terrific meal plan. She also said we need to seriously address the severe scalp psoriasis I am dealing with. It can bring about bouts of depression and she believes that this is big concern. This especially because I was so sensitive at the time.

That evening I told Darryl what they both had said. He was happy that I wasn’t an alcoholic but he was concerned that I was not motivated to do anything (including running my business to make money) all because I was not interacting with people. He asked me why couldn’t I be motivated by our children, our family. I think the fact that he asked that really hurt me. And it was because of those questions and almost accusations (that I didn’t value being a mother and the importance of my role) that I wanted to write this post. I wanted to look back at my life and my behaviour over the last while. I wanted to see where I went wrong. I wanted to find out where my priorities were and how I see myself has changed.

Not only do I feel lost, but the fact of the matter is that I am lost!

I’m 31 and I am nowhere near I thought I’d be.

And even if I don’t think of it in that way, that I’m not a failure, I still feel like I’m coming up short. I have so much stuff in my head. Noise. Cloudiness. And sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe. I feel overwhelmed like I’m gasping for air surrounded by murky waters.

It’s strange because a lot of the time I am motivated. I have so many ideas for business, collaborations. But. It’s like I short-circuit and everything crumbles. One day I’m writing my business plan, the next I sleep all day, don’t shower (not to save water) and can’t reply to messages. The latter is something very little people understand. It’s difficult for me to read messages, let alone reply to them. I see the unread message in my inbox or whatsapp and I start to freak out and wonder what the message is about and I am scared I don’t know HOW to answer. Sometimes I freak out because I’m scared the person may ask me to do something. It freaks me out because I am worried that I can’t do it OR that the person won’t be happy with my attempt. So, I don’t read the message or I read it and it stresses me out so much (or it just makes me experience a gush of emotions I can’t process) that I don’t reply. So rude. But I can’t help it. I truly can’t. I’m physically unable to make a move. I am frozen.

I think this post is a bit all over the place, but maybe it’ll people a glimpse into what goes on in my head.

Are you going through a difficult time and how do you cope?

Let me know if the comments below.

x

Yve



23 thoughts on “I used to be”

  • Geez Yvette I can relate to so much of what you have said here, except that I am an alcoholic and a drug addict, as well as diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.
    Thankfully I am 8 years in recovery from addiction now.

    There is nothing wrong with the way you are feeling and dealing with a mental disorder is not easy at all. I have over the years managed to get a grip on my life after a lot of struggling and a lot of treatment.

    Perhaps something that may help you at this time is No More Zero Days. It is quite a simple concept and you don’t have to feel pressured to do much at all. It must means that you must do something no matter how small.

    So don’t reply to all the messages and emails, but make sure you reply to one so it is not ZERO.

    These small things make a huge difference… ok not so much of a difference to all your messages piling up day after day, but mentally you can feel you did something not nothing. In time it builds up until you are doing more.

    The other thing that helps me a lot is getting to know myself better and I can feel when I am taking on too much and pushing myself. I know when to consciously reign myself in and stop so I don’t overdo it.

    We don’t have to be super heroes at all. I used to think that I did have to be a superhero. Now I just want to be happy and enjoy myself. I can’t do that rushing all over the place trying to get everything done.

    Now I don’t crash.. so much. And when I do it is not so badly and I can pick myself up easier.

    It takes small steps in the right direction and that is what I used to struggle with, I am made to be an all or nothing type of person and I had to change that. I don’t have to be good at everything or get everything done. I just have to get some things done.

    By the way I am doing some awesome exercises at home that are making me feel great… we need to hook up and meet properly maybe we can do some exercises and coffee.

    I over indulge in coffee since quitting smoking nearly 2 years ago… that’s my vice at the moment.

  • Hi Yvette,

    Thanks so much for sharing.

    I can’t say I can identify with all parts of your story. But I can definitely say I identify with most of them.

    Our 30s is when we reflect on where we are, where our decisions, abilities & in abilities have brought us. You could call it a quarter-life crisis if you’d like.

    We feel so much pressure to be successful, to be beautiful, to do the right thing, to always improve.

    What really helps me is love. Love received, love given, love expressed, love appreciated, love realised, love remembered. LOVE. Period.

  • Thank you so much Queen Yvette Hess. For your honesty and powerful words. Your story carries great power and I am so thankful for strong women like you. It is rare to see a soul in this world. I appreciate your ability to articulate yourself my Queen. You are gifted and skilled. Using your gifts like you are doing, is the gateway to greatness. And I see your magnificence, more than you know. You are already operating in your purpose. I’m so proud to have you as a member of Garden of Queens. Continue to rise and celebrate even your tiniest of victories. You are not alone in feeling this way, although most women would not have the courage to let themselves be seen, you inspire us to do so, by telling us your story today. Thank you beautiful soul…and just as the sun rises after every night, may you and all our queen members continue to rise again and again and again.

    • Hello hello Carmelle! This reply is LONG overdue!

      Genuinely sorry about that!

      You know that messages like your bring great comfort to me. Truly they do! I believe that no-one deserves to feel alone or to suffer in silence when we ALL need love and to be accepted. Thank yo for taking the time out to comment and for reaching out. We will chat soon on Whatsapp?

  • When I worked at NailCandi, every day Id drive to work and see myself wanting to turn into traffic because I didn’t want to be there. I would rather have died.
    Aftet that, to the guest house and Id come crying and wondering why the fuck I’m still here on earth. No successes. I felt like a joke and oftentimes I still do.
    I quit my job. No idea of how I was going to get clients or money (still no idea really but I’m trying). But I love healing and all i want to do is help people remember who they are and find balance.

    I am not successful like most people earning big bucks.
    I am not successful as a mom because look, I aint got no kids.
    I am not successful because we don’t even have a home together.
    This is what I look to because that’s what everyone around me has.

    You know… I dont know ever what I’m doing, even when I’m crystal healing but I go with what feels right inside me. I sometimes don’t want to study or try and then my higher self says listen come now.
    Sometimes my brain fights hard because it is so easy to do nothing and the brain LOVES that because it is comfortable and safe – knowing this gets me moving because I can say okay yes this is my brain here talking.

    No one knows what they’re doing. We say we do but not so much. It is normal.

    My point is that it is all okay.
    Okay to feel like youre not as good as the old you. Youre a new person now and you just need to love yourself as you are now, especially the shit parts about yourself.
    When we deny them; they get worse because they are fighting so hard to get noticed and loved too because theyre a part of who we are right now.

    Just be yourself Yvette.
    Dont do things you dont want to.
    Dont reply to people or things that require your energy that you dont want to give.
    Give yourself some of yourself.
    Come for an emotional healing session one day IF you feel you need it. If you feel you dont, that’s perfect. You know you best. I won’t be mad but proud because you said it wasnt for you today/whenever.
    Love your psoriasis. Let people judge you, fuck them because we all have shameful shit. WE ALL HAVE SHAMEFUL SHIT WE HIDE!!!

    Love you because you’re all you’re leaving with when you exit this adventure.

    • Hello my favourite 🙂

      Finally, I reply! I’m so sorry it’s so late.

      Okay, one of my fave lines in your comment was “Give yourself some of yourself.” And you know why. I lit a candle today and some incense and I’m taking little bits of time out to just think about myself and who I am. It is SO scary BUT I know it’s something I need to do. I need to acknowledge who I am. I need to own it, like I used to. But I also just need to realize that I am not who I was and that is totally okay.

      Thanks for being a warm, loving human in my life!

      And yes to HEALING SESSION plz!

      Love you, crystal-lover

  • Yvette, I can so relate to everything you have said above. Although not bi-polar, I have adult ADHD. Rushing thoughts, constantly “on the go”, difficulty relaxing or falling asleep, trying to be a good mom and wife/partner but falling short of the “norm”. Although much older than you, I was only officially diagnosed when I was in my early 40’s. My whole life before that was just always knowing that I was different to other women/people. The story is a long one, filled with highs and some lows and awesome adventures and experiences. A few years ago I decided to embrace my “condition” and concentrate on my strengths and ignore, or rather, not concentrate on my weaknesses. It been a long process, and it will continue to be a process for the rest of my life. I have my OWN set of “normal’s” and will not be dictated to what others perceive as normal. I take medication, which takes the edge off. I know when I need more and when I can cut down. I keep a journal. Make notes. If I know I need to do something which I feel will be difficult to do, or I am not comfortable with, i get other people involved, preferably professionals in that field. I am open about my diagnosis and am sure to tell people that because I am ADHD I am not retarded,. In fact, quite the opposite. Yes, the lows come and we adjust our meds. The rushing thoughts and ideas are there. Use them. Write them down. Keep them for when you ARE able to use them and work on them. My thoughts and prayers are with you. You will be ok. You will be successful in your own way and you will get through this.

  • I am 59 and only now beginning to understand that being different is ok. I have been born with a feeling of sadness (melancholy) – all my life I have been a sad person, and no-one understood. I always had this semi-smile on my face, and was called Princess Ann (from the royal family) at school because she was so serious, and hardly ever smiled. It definitely was not a compliment, because what I felt inside is the blockage of tears. Even now after all these years I still cannot cry. The lessons I have learnt so far is that you are who you are no matter what you decide you want to do. Against all odds your person will rebel against the alternative you you want to create. Hence, admit to what and who you are – as in confess your shortcomings – all humans have them. Celebrate your good points, and ignore the negative comments even though it is often difficult to do. You cannot be all things to all men, as the saying goes. I have accepted that I am a sad person and will probably die a sad person, but that is who I am. I cannot force myself to be happy and jolly and happy go lucky. Your writing is a start to your journey, and as I said on Facebook, you will only gain perspective through it. Especially since you are writing retrospectively. I think some readers are misunderstanding your piece. You need to give a background from where and how you came to here, so that you can move forward. Not everyone has the courage to bare it all. You have, and bless you for it. Forget those who wish to hold you back. You have a purpose on the earth. What I would like for you to do, is to start creating a special bond with your eldest, he needs you too. Remember he went through the toughest part of your life with you. Give him a little extra of your special love and care.

    • Thank you so much for your comment Bernadette. You’ve always been such an engaging FB friend and I sincerely appreciate your wisdom. I have actually started finding original ways to show my eldest how much I love him and appreciate him standing by while I was figuring myself out. He is my blessing!

  • Yvette you are really brave for sharing all of this. It’s good though.
    I think you should take it day by day. Try to hook up with one of the bloggers- of a few of us. Then meet up. Thank you for sharing.

    • Thanks Melissa. Sorry this is so late. I’ve truly been overwhelmed at the response. I would definitely appreciate a meet up. Not only to get out of the house, but to enjoy interacting with beings older that 10 years of age… 😉 Just let me know when (if you have a group in mind already). Otherwise I’ll just send a message in a few blogger groups. xx

    • Melissa, thanks for your offer. As I mentioned to someone who commented earlier, I find that sharing is healing. It’s good for my soul. I value honesty and when someone is vulnerable. You can’t get more honest than when someone is bearing the broken soul. Maybe that’s why I am such a champion of sharing other people’s stories- and hence me starting several blogs and organizations reflects this.

      I’d LOVE to hook up 🙂

  • Just to let you know a massive amount of what you’ve said resonates with me. I find my husband and kids are the thing which tethers me – and sometimes I resent that tether. It sounds bad but there it is. I think maybe a small part of your purpose can be your writing – because it is powerful, it is helpful to others in the same situation. I know what you mean though – I planned on being a stay at home mom for a small while – I couldn’t do it. I am healthier because I am working. Unfortunately though when I can’t work because I’m ill it really adds to my stress – because being able to work defines me. A huge part of our problem (those of us with bipolar) is that it is really hard to acknowledge we’ll never be able to do the things we used to do. We can perform and achieve – but it will never be at the hectically high levels that we used to do. It sucks. I understand your frustration.

    One small thing – I wonder if you’ve ever come to the bipolar support groups – the ones at either Crescent or Claro clinics? They might be helpful to you, and they might give you some outlet if you become involved in the organisation. Just a thought.

    Either way, sterkte, and you have my full sympathies.

    • Thanks “Not a real name” for commenting. It’s at that point where we tell ourselves “it sounds bad” that I believe so much judgement comes flooding in. And it stems from everywhere. I wish you knew how good it feels to read that that stay-at-home mom gig didn’t work for you. I felt so useless and questioned my existence (I’m dramatic like that). Being able to work also defined me and I struggled “settling” for being a house mom, a soccer mom. I my mind I’d always ask either what is wrong with me or I’d press on the point that there must be more to life than toddlers and nappies and cricket games (they can be great). But I wanted more. I let the storm of trying to find where I belong damage ever bit of self confidence I had built up over the years. It’s like when you have Bipolar Disorder, you are dealing with normal life stuff but somewhere it intensifies and you break down. Add in the mood changes and mediation side effects and you’re screwed.

      I live in Saldanha so the support groups you mentioned are far. BUT I have been to the one at Crescent. I loved it. I felt normal, dare I say it. I work with SADAG on projects and they have asked me to start a support group here. Truth be told, I can do it, but all I want to do is join a community and find healing.

      Until then, I’ll write. I truly appreciate your comment. I look forward to interacting again 🙂

    • Thanks for sharing and your honesty “Not a Real Name”. It’s easy to face that truth. It’s an ugly one. It’s like you walk around with huge X on our foreheads- marked as if something was inherently wrong. A reject. That’s honestly what I feel like as a mother. Being able to contribute to this world, being able to add value is important to me. And if I’m adding value by being honest, then I am happy. It comes naturally to me so it isn’t forced, it’s not a facade. If I can make this my work, then it would be so much easier to wake up in the morning. All I want to do is WANT to wake up in the morning.

      Regarding performance, yeah it sucks that I will never be able to reach that high. I was manic for a long time. But these meds mute me now. Sometimes I feel like they mute my magic.

      I’ve been to the one at Crescent with Jay- not sure it’s still there. I went once with my initial diagnosis- it really changed the way I felt about life with my diagnosis. All throughout the session, I was in awe- we shared symptoms and I couldn’t believe that it was possible to have a room packed with people sharing their lives. They shared for hope, I’m sure. Anyway, as I’m based in Saldanha those ones are too far. SADAG wanted me to start a suppor group here but husband thought (and still thinks) that they would be too much for me. He is so protective; I should be grateful.

      Anyway, thanks again for stopping by. I appreciate it! Oh yes, check out my latest post. I talk about motherhood- http://bit.ly/2tj7Iva Feel free to share. x

  • Thank you for this honest and heartfelt post. I think there is something in here that most people can relate with. It takes courage to open yourself up like this and that is what makes a difference in other people’s lives.

    May you find your peace and joy again (I don’t want to say your strength because you are already so strong!)

    Good luck and keep us up to date. Tell us how we can encourage and help you.

    • Hi Rolene. Thank you kindly for your heartfelt message. I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to reply. I’ve been so so overwhelmed by the response. When i wrote the post, I just needed to escape my own shame. It was stifling. Keep in touch. I’ll be posting again soon. I’m thinking my market is the part of the society who needs honesty and being frank. I’ll keep everyone updated. XX

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