With today being the last day of school, Kiddo will be home for 6 weeks. For those 6 weeks, I will be working the weekends (I am rota’d to work a few weekday shifts and Kiddo will be spending the day with either family or friends) and during the week, I will be doing my thing as a parent. Looking after my child.
With Mental Health Issues, the 6 weeks when children are home from school can be incredibly daunting. Especially when you have social anxiety and paranoia. Although the thought of going out fills me with abject terror, I don’t want to leave the house. I know I have to though, for Kiddo’s sake.
So, I have planned to be taking her out for strolls (walking the dog, to help the dog with her rehab), sitting with her and actually doing stuff with her. Enjoying her comedy and wisdom. Just enjoying being a mum.
I have to get out of the house and start walking again, this is something that can’t be avoided. In September the school bus that Kiddo catches to come home will be stopping (local council cuts), so I will have to walk a mile to the school and a mile back home. The homeward walk will be with Kiddo. I will be taking the hound with me, so she will be getting exercise. I will be getting exercise and more importantly, I will be getting out of the house. In ALL weathers. I will be walking in the sun, rain, hail and snow. There is also another reason why I want to be seen up the school. Despite my own paranoia and mental health issues, I am determined that the other mothers and the teachers see me there, so if any problems arise with Kiddo, I can be there at the end of the day to sort it out. I don’t care if the other Mother’s like or don’t like me. I am not there to make friends with them, I am there for my daughter.
Things seem to have been getting better, as long as Kiddo and I keep talking, keep spending time together. I know shit like that is a given in parenthood. You are supposed to do those things. I haven’t been, whether it was my Post Natal Depression where I couldn’t bond with her for almost 2 years of her life. (I can remember the moment when I realised that I did actually love my baby. Hubby and I were watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and there was a little girl called Bouy (Boo-ee) and she had cancer. She was making things for the children on the Cancer ward with her, so their stay wasn’t completely miserable. She was raising funds as well. The camera did a span of the cancer ward and there was this little scrumplet (baby) on a bed with the tubes and everything, just looking so listless and tired. For the first time since Kiddo was born that I actually thought, what would I do without her? What would I do if she fell ill like that? And I got this massive rush that I couldn’t beat down, no matter how hard I tried and I just sobbed. Then the guilt hit me, I had wasted 2 years of her life by flipping between being distant to her and almost suffocating her with love. I couldn’t enjoy her being little. The guilt seemed to taint everything from then on. I still struggle with it now.) Or whether it was part of the disassociation that BPD sufferers experience, the sense of detachment from a situation. I couldn’t understand how this little person needed me so much (common sense and rationality told me it’s because I am her mother and she was a baby), but I resented her being dependant on me.
Over the years, the detachment and disassociation there is between myself and my child has been complicated but I have endeavoured to try and compensate for it. So, the emotional side of being a mother never came to me as completely as they do others, during the first couple of years. As Kiddo grows older, I am beginning to appreciate her more. The person she is and the person she is turning into, is amazing.
With the coming of the next few weeks, we will be having as much fun as possible. Roll on Monday!