So I've just arrived back on the ward after overnight leave at home. I feel like a great big fat failure. I think my mood has slipped again the past couple of weeks if I'm honest but I dare not mention this to anyone as for a brief moment when I was cuddled on the sofa with my hubby and my daughter I felt safe. For the briefest of moments I believed everyone who has told me it will all be ok and that recovery is possible then reality hit. Reality hit me in the face like a brick. My reality is that like a virus that lays dormant then gives you a coldsore when you are run down depression will always be there lurking in my life. I hate that this is something I have no control over, I crave control.
I used every scrap of energy I had saved up yesterday to ensure my daughters excitement at having me home was justified, the mistake I made was going overdrawn and using todays energy too. We made pancakes and argued over the best toppings, when our daughter was out of earshot my husband and I cracked jokes about tossing (well it was Shrove tuesday/pancake day!) it almost felt 'normal'. It wasn't 'normal' however as we both knew I had to come back today, that our trying to lead a 'normal' family life was a game. We were just practising.
I read a bedtime story to my beautifully thoughtful four year old and she said 'you used to rea me this one when you used to live here mammy' my heart broke into a million pieces whilst I wondered what she actually understood and what she just smiled and nodded at but remained confused? At 4 the world is simplistic, mammy had gone. Full stop.
What I then did was stupidity on my part. I ought to have known my reaction but still I set myself up for a fall. I wanted to prove to myself that I was in control, I wanted to prove that the flashbacks were a thing of the past. Why? Why would I put myself through that? I initiated intimacy with my husband who at first tried to say it was too soon, he was kind and understanding as he always is, he said that there was no rush and that we should take our time. I knew he wouldn't resist for long - he has been home alone for nearly four months - I thought if we could make love I was 'well'. How could I be so stupid, as gentle and considerate as he is the sheer act itself left me shaking. I closed my eyes and I was a child again being violated. I know I initiated the act and I tried to remain in control but my memories took over once again. I hate my brain.
I was up pacing until after 2.30am, sleep seemed impossible, my thoughts were racing as fast as my feet were wearing the carpet, possibly even faster. I then decided I HAD to go to bed and at least try to get some sleep. I lay in my husbands arms feeling a vast array of emotions, I felt safe in his arms but equally I felt constrained by his arms, in my state of alertness too great for 3am. I wanted to walk. I wanted to walk and walk and feel the wind on my face, to be alone with my thoughts however dangerous they may have been. I had made a promise though, I had promised my key nurse that I would stay indoors, that I wouldn't leave the flat alone.
If I'm honest the only reason I didn't walk was that my daughter has a chesty cough and had quite a disturbed night, I didn't want her to be unwell and mammy not to be there. Once again my 4 year old guardian angel or as the hospital like to put it in my care plans my 'protective factor'
When my daughter walked into our marital bedroom this morning the look on her face when she realised mammy had slept at home was amazing, I thought she was going to burst with excitement. She was thrilled that mammy had stayed at home overnight. I wanted to share her happiness but my heart had gained weight overnight again, with my heart heavy and my soul tortured I wonder will I ever be free?
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