Reflections

We're almost at the end of another year, and I've survived it, though my mood is currently low.

The year started with such joy as we gathered at Gretna Green and had the 'wedding' we would have had 41 years ago if we hadn't been dictated to. This was quickly followed by my 60th birthday; a huge milestone for me as at 43 I was wired up on coronary care units at 2 different hospitals, wondering if I was going to see 44. On readmission, an ED doctor asked if I was a cocaine user, such were the mad ECG tracings my heart was producing. This was quickly followed by a shot of morphine for the pain, and several more days in hospital. The pain in my chest and left arm have returned recently after being quiet for a long time.

In March we were back to the caravan, the beach, wide open skies, and most importantly, peace. It's our happy place, and we relish the silence. I have already told my daughter and my mum that we will be spending 2 consecutive weeks there in a few months time. Everyone is going to have to manage without us for that time. We need that time together without anyone wanting a piece of us.

We had the worry of my mum's health, which turned out not to be bowel cancer but diverticulitis. She's been as obstinate about that as shes been about everything else since I was a child. It's flaring at the moment. I suggested I take her to the GP today as she may need antibiotics. She refused. She has capacity, and I can't make her go. 

Like everything else, she will doubtless leave it to escalate until it becomes much more difficult to sort, and more stress/ hassle/ inconvenience for me, and I will be at the end of my tether. She won't ring me, she'll just expect me to be Mystic Meg with a crystal ball. She never rings me, even if she knows I'm unwell. Her excuse being, ' I didn't want to disturb you in case you were sleeping'.

I just want freedom. I can't bear the thought of possibly another 10 years of this. There, I've said it.

My brother in law was surprised when I told him that last week, but he didn't do anything for my mother in law so he has no concept of how wearing this is, especially after doing it for half of my life, and with multiple health issues of my own that she has never shown any interest in or concern about. 

Lost 5 stones in 9 months without her knowing I was going to fat club? Not a single word from her. Not one. Two colonoscopies and a gastroscopy? Unconcerned. Sixteen months of steroids? Unconcerned. A whole raft of neurological symptoms? Unconcerned. ME/CFS? Unconcerned. High blood pressure in my 30s? Unconcerned. Heart condition in my 40s? Unconcerned.  Chest pain returned? Unconcerned. The last three despite the fact my dad had high blood pressure in his 40s and a fatal heart attack in his 50s. 

She needed BP meds at the age of 85 and told me I had no idea how awful it is to have to take medication. She takes 1 BP med, I take 3 and have done for decades. This is what I'm up against and it can't even be blamed on age as she's always been like this. 

She was even angry at me for being pregnant and having an ectopic pregnancy, putting the phone down on me and then telling my husband she refused to look after my daughter so that he could visit me in hospital. Children weren't allowed in the evenings, so he had to get special permission from the ward sister. All due to my mum's vindictiveness because at the age of 28 I'd dared to hold my ground and point out a couple of home truths about my childhood.

There is so much more that I could write. Suffice to say she hasn't been one of those lovely, caring mums that I read about, either when I was a child or as an adult.

The ED is as bad as ever, swinging from starving, to bingeing and purging. There's no sign of ever being better, and worse than that, I feel like there's no hope of it.

I cooked Christmas dinner and ate a bit of turkey, a bit of pork, and part of a pig in blanket. The rest went in the bin. Me and J have decided that we will go away next Christmas, whether by extending the season at the caravan, or going elsewhere. People will be upset. I'll be upset if I have to stay at home. I'm important too, so that's what we intend to do. My husband worries about me. He's the one who knows how deep into the pit I've been in recent months, and how often the blackest of thoughts has entered my head. 

Maybe it's time I let other people know instead of trying to spare their feelings. Maybe then they'd stop expecting me to be all things to all people and to do it all. I may have been capable of that in the past, but not now.

Oxygen mask on first. 

I'm important too. 

It's time to be selfish. 

I bloody well deserve to put me ( and my husband) first, and nobody will convince me otherwise now.

Is it any wonder I'm mentally unwell?