living with depression

mum

For the first time since my Dad died I dreamed about him last night. It had been bothering me as I had dreams about both my parents before they died and I had dreams about my mum after she died. My Mum and I had a ‘difficult’ relationship; I wanted to be loved by her but didn’t feel loved, I loved my Mum but didn’t know how to love her how she wanted me to love her. For many years I felt so much anger towards my Mum because I never felt good enough for her and yet I don’t know how my Mum felt because we couldn’t communicate. Add into the mix that when I was in my twenties my Mum told me that my parents had included my son in their wills.

That may seem an odd sentence but I won’t expand as it’s not relevant to this blog.

After my Mum died over six years ago I soon started dreaming about her regularly. I found it wierd as we were talking and being completely normal in our relationship. Some time after her death I found out I had been written out of her will and my son wasn’t even mentioned. It didn’t bother me that I had been been hurt that my son wasn’t even mentioned even though legally he wasn’t entitled to anything anyway. It was the simple fact thar nobody had bothered to tell me.

It has been almmost four months since my Dad died and I was struggling a bit because I hadn’t dreamed of him. I loved my Dad so much even through the years I was very angry. What kept me going was that assurance he had died the way he wanted to at home and suddenly. It was one of those things that came up quite quickly with my sister and I wish I could have been with her when she found our Dad.

My sister and I had distanced ourselves from each other due to not being able to talk about what really matter and misunderstanding. If only I could turn back the clock and been completely honest with my sister and maybe our future would have been different. She is my sister and I love her more than she will ever know. I hope one day she will understand me better and how depression shaped my life due to being too ashamed to talk about it

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It is so hard being a person who suffers with depression let alone long term, undiagnosed depression.  As I posted before I didn’t know I suffered with depression in my teens.  I didn’t know my family life wasn’t ‘normal’.  I didn’t know that my mother’s behaviour towards me wasn’t right.  I believed that family problems were swept under the carpet and that it was important to keep up appearances.

Years later I started joking that the ‘Bucket woman’ from Keeping Up Appearances was based on my mother.  She had her telephone voice and if it was someone she knew her voice would change depending on who it was.  It sounds cruel but it isn’t meant to be.  I loved my mum despite everything.  We were too much alike although my mum probably would have denied it.  We both had strong morals, we both believed in honesty, we were both protective of the family, and, we both had tempers.  But when we had our say that was it.

Despite my anger over the years due to my mother’s behaviour towards me she was still my mother.  All I wanted was to be close but stubborness got in the way.  My mother was also stubborn.  Did she ever love me?

I don’t know.  The child in me hopes my mum did.  I will always hurt that I will never know.  She claimed to be a Christian but her actions weren’t always a reflection of that.

One thing that has played on my mind for many years on and off is the baby ‘bracelets’ that are put on babies wrists after birth.  On my one the year is wrong as I was born in 1961 but on the ‘bracelet’ the year is 1960.  I remember a conversation many years ago with my Dad as he found out I knew the wrong year of birth was on it and he simply said it was a mistake.  How can a nurse make that mistake in November?

I could have believed it if I had been born in January.

I am tired due to not taking all of my medication since Wednesday, and, not sleeping very well so will try to continue tomorrow.

 

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sad dog

Okay, yes dogs always look sad, I should know as I have had four spoilt dogs over the years.

I wonder how many people have woken up this morning feeling sad and lonely this morning.  In fact how many would actually be honest and admit it?

It’s a true statement that you can be in a room full of people and still feel lonely.  I have had too many days like this over the years.  Before I was married and from the age of 20 I felt lonely every Christmas Day, Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve. Christmas Day and Boxing Day was spent with my family yet I felt disjointed from them as if I was in a bubble looking out on them being happy.  On New Year’s Eve, when I chose to be with my family we would go out for a drink then onto a family friends home for a party.  I would put on my happy mask as I was too ashamed to admit I wasn’t happy.  I wasn’t enjoying myself.  I didn’t feel part of the family or a friend.  I was expected to be happy because that’s what my family wanted.

No I wasn’t happy.  No I didn’t feel part of the family.  No I didn’t want to lie and fake being happy.  Yes I was a good actor.  I was tired of being accused of being a drama queen, an attention seeker or moody.  Facing up to being severely depressed wasn’t an option.

I wanted my son with me.  I wanted to wake up on Christmas Day and open presents.  I wanted to have fun playing with him on Boxing Day.  I wanted to go to bed on New Year’s Eve knowing the next year was going to better than the last.

If my family ever read this they will probably think the same as they always do that I am selfish, only think of myself and always tried to hurt my family.  It doesn’t that I was expected to be at my sister’s beck and call as the babysitter.  Or that I took my nieces out regularly for a few years.

I was even shocked to find out when I reconnected on Facebook with an old school friend that she considered my parents strict.  But, I would do as I was told, did my homework coming before going out, got home by a set time, went for the type of jobs they wanted for me, even friends were a problem.  My first best friend at the comprehensive school I went to was from a working class family.  My mum wanted me to have middle class friends.  She came round because she knew my friend was well raised and polite.

I grew up in a predominiantly white town so it wasn’t too much of an issue until I got to my  late teens / early 20’s.  Nothing was said directly but I remember feeling uncomfortable with comments along the lines that if a non white person or family moved next door to us we would move.  I couldn’t understand why as my parents had non white friends and polite to those they didn’t know.  I have had non white friends over the years and have lived in towns where white people aren’t the majority. To me they are decent people and have the same values as we do.  Of course there are bad ethnic minority people but not all white people are decent.

End of rant and back on track.

Christmas Day I felt lonely.  That’s sad.  I know Rick loves me.  We had a good day.  We don’t have any worries.  Well.  Except for the bathroom leak.  But.  I felt lonely.  It eased by teatime as two friends were with us for a couple of hours – one is a neighbour and the other one we got to know through church.  I suppose I just miss the Christmas Days when I was young,  I felt loved by all my family and the day was always special.  Although I have always believed in God  the point of Christmas Day got lost in the ecitement.  I miss not having the Christmas Days I had as a child with my son and seeing his excitement.

Boxing Day was also a bad day emotionally.  We went to Hartlepool to have a look round the shops and anxiety hit me like a brick.  We lived in Hartlepool when I ‘found’ my son.  Even though we have been back to Hartlepool over the years we haven’t spent so much time in the town centre.  Memories of better times came flooding back so it was hard not to cry.  It is hard because I know I can’t have that time back again particularly as I can never trust my son again.  He justwanted to use me as nobody else would put up with his bad behaviour again.  It hurts.  I have a son that hates me.  I have a grandson I will never see because of his father,

Today I feel empty.  What do I have to look forward to that will make me whole again?

I put my mask on because I love my husband and cats.

I put my mask when I am at church,

I put my mask on when I do voluntary work.

What I really want to do is put a smile on because I am happy, fulfilled and feel loved.

I know I am loved by Rick.

I know friends like me.

But.

I want to be at least liked by my family.

I will never feel liked or loved by my mum as she passed on in 2011.

I know my dad cares but I am too scared to try and get close to him because of the past.

My sister tolerates me for my dad’s sake.

My nieces don’t want to know me and certainly don’t want to know the truth of my relationship with my family.

I will always be a disappointment to them.

I give up.

I shall do as I always do and hide.

Behind my mask.

aba hn

 

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Recently I confirmed a friend request on Facebook from an old school friend.    We became friends when we were 10 or 11 years old and I can still remember going to a birthday party she had.  Even though we had our best friends there was a connection between us.  She even came away with my family, Nanna, my sister’s boyfriend and me one year.  I loved going round to her home and staying over sometimes as it got me away from my family.  We lost contact after leaving school although we sometimes got the same train when we were working.

A day or two ago this friend posted something that was triggering about parents.  I replied on her post that I wish that my mum and and I had had a good relationship  but it got worse the older I got.  It still hurts that I couldn’t have the relationship I wanted with my mum.  Mothers are very important people to their children and I will never be able to understand why my mum got to the stage of hating me. I tried for so long as I wanted her to love me but nothing worked.  Everything I tried gave her more reasons to hate me.

The last few days have been very hard ones with depression worsening again.  It is hard for me to think of a reason to live on days like this. I keep going on with the hope that I will die in my sleep.  That is a terrible confession to make.  I am doing it here as I need to be honest and there is no other way I can be honest.

death

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