Thank You!

A huge thank you to everyone who has continued to engage with my blog this year! It means so much to me and I really enjoy hearing from you. Thank you for sharing your stories and experiences with me.

Many have begun to engage with me via Facebook and so, as it is a time for trying new things after all, I thought I would share Dreaming of the Temple’s page here so you can find it more easily.

Here everything is a little less formal, more relaxed and hopefully a great space to engage with me and one another.

It features links and alerts to the latest content, is more personal and shares topical snippets relating to my passions; mental health and motherhood.

I look forward to seeing you there!

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A Note To Wednesday

Wednesday was all about the emotions of feeding infants and how intense society is about it.

As an exclusively expressing mama (we’ll delve into all of that in due course) I quite often feel like neither fish nor foul.

The question is always posed as breast or bottle, and I’m sitting thinking it’s breast IN a bottle…

Does that still count? Does the mode of delivery matter?

The answer (because I did indeed ask this at my 6 week check) is YES.

What the various eyes in the waiting room don’t realise is that the medical professionals who ask that question are interested to know whether you as mum are still producing milk (as it has different implications for your breast tissue and hormone levels) and exactly what baby is receiving in case any health concerns arise as it could be allergies and so forth.

That’s the end of it. No opinion required.

Fed is best.

No one else should be asking.

Breast-pumping Blues

Whir clack
Whir clack
The pump churns out its rhythm

Stretch slack
Stretch slack
My breasts worked by the system

Perusing the dream
Keep mining the seam
Of milk the colour of cream

Blogging Milestones

Welcome to 2019! 

I’ve been posting a lot about New Year and the associated resolutions this month and it seems appropriate to outline my blogging aspirations for this year.

Firstly, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, like and comment on my posts. When I created this blog a year ago it was purely personal and I couldn’t imagine anyone reading it, let alone engaging with the content. Thank you!

I considered quitting so many times over the past year, and it has been a big lesson in perseverance which has aided my recovery and stimulated my mental well-being.

Now, I want to move forward.

All posts providing blogging advice emphasise consistency in producing material. This blog has had neither consistency of content or regular posting.

I have very much been learning whilst doing with this blog (having a lot of fun!) and it has taken a long time finding its feet. I outlined in my Dreaming of the Temple posts the initial ideas and expanse of topics I was considering exploring. In my very first post, I described my approach to blogging as ‘talking to myself’ and to be honest that isn’t going to change.

What will be different this year is that I have refined my content. I have 3 main areas that I enjoy posting about: mental health (which I am particularly passionate about and it the primary focus of the blog) accompanied by lifestyle and creative writing.

Those of you who have been following my blog since the beginning know that this year I am intending to return to university for postgraduate study. Last year, blogging helped me gain the confidence to apply for my masters and practice writing. This year, I’m looking to get back into the habit of deadlines. So the intention is to have a much more regular posting schedule, requiring me to create worthwhile content following a reliable timeline. The practice is especially required with the new arrival. Study, research and work with a new baby requires juggling, extreme time management and a flexible, yet diligent schedule.

 

 

 

 

New Year: A Time for Reflection

Three years have passed between New Year 2016 and New Year 2019. These were the last time I felt strong in myself and confidently optimistic about my ability to strive into the year ahead, and the first time since.

Three years ago, I simply couldn’t imagine being where I am now. Given my recent trauma (little did I know there were still two cases of harassment to follow) I had certainly written off any possibility of getting married, buying a house was far from my mind and children seemed a dream away.

New Year 2016 was just before I hit rock bottom, the eye of the storm as I rallied from abuse and assault before plunging into deep depression just a month later.

The Power of Hindsight 

That same month I met my husband and, as I have said before, without his intervention I hate to think what might have been the outcome.

The sound advice given to mental health suffers is to NOT make any life changing decisions.

However:

I was suicidal and got married

Bought a house whilst struggling with depression

Had anxiety and had a baby

None of these actions where taken lightly, a lot of consideration went into each and a lot of love, peace and healing was gained.

I have been incredibly blessed.

Mental Health Hangover

For once I took my own advice! I took some time to rest following the emotional outpouring of my latest posts.

Beyond taking time to absorb the catharsis and recover from the anxiety and emotion of sharing something so personal online, the post had achieved what I hoped, a line drawn under that period of my life.

Of course, I haven’t forgotten, but I am no longer haunted by the events of those two years. I now feel able to purely look forward and embrace the new experiences that motherhood will bring. That was why I wrote that post in the first place, so I could welcome my baby without the experience being tainted by the negativity and, frankly, toxicity of that dark period.

Mental Health Hangover

However, I do have one last hangover from my mental illness. I just can’t think of a better way to describe it. It’s just one enduring element that I haven’t yet resolved. Recently though, I have been working on addressing my obsessive behaviour before baby arrives, as it was getting particularly extreme with nesting habits and to me represents the final phase of recovery.

As ever, by starting to write about it, I have been able to unpack this particular episode, and no surprise it’s rooted in the events of three years ago.

I have had obsessive episodes since starting school, but this one in particular is derived from an overwhelming notion of contamination. Now that I have actively thought about how my anxiety is manifesting (in obsessive cleaning rituals), the connection between my behaviour and the past seems obvious. Survivors of abuse, assault and rape, frequently refer to feeling dirty, a natural consequence of the violating trauma experienced.

Obsessive Behaviour

In the back of my mind I know that the object of my obsessive focus it is not dirty, that placing something on a surface does not immediately contaminate everything else in contact with that surface, for instance, chairs that are positioned on the floor, as chairs usually are, however, my brain doesn’t get satisfaction from cleaning the floor, the chairs must be scrubbed too along with any other floors I might have encountered whilst gathering cleaning products, and sometimes, the products themselves. At this point, as you can imagine, the cycle of percieved ‘contamination’ is agrresive and interfering with daily life. It also affects marital harmony, for as patient and understanding as Samuel is, by the umpteenth cleaning cycle, even he is beginning to get frustrated. I mean, I am frustrated too, it would be wonderful to be able to pick something up and put it down somewhere else without concern for what had previously been situated there. It’s one of the reasons we still have unpacked boxes from moving a year ago – it just takes so long for me to perform this cleaning ritual on each item.

This is why it is a hangover, I don’t view my house in the same terms as the items I’m moving into it. For instance, the dog goes out for a walk, plays in the garden, lays on the floor, the sofa, on her dog bed, and I simply mop the floor and wash her blanket. If she has found something especially delicious and nasty (she is very fond of a dead seagull) then she is bathed and paws washed off. Thus, the dog, the house and the humans in it, get muddy, dusty, dirty and are cleaned in the usual, typical and healthy way. No environment is completely sterile and not expected to be. This is the normal practice of hygiene, it’s dirty and it gets cleaned as part of generic housework.

However, because my recovery only really began following the move, whilst our current house holds no bad memories or associations, the flat we rented was full of my toxic baggage. Whilst, it was filled with the happiness of newly-weds, it was also where I gradually shed the negativity of the previous year and finally finished my degree. Therefore, whilst the house we now inhabit is regarded by my compulsion as clean, the things being moved in from the flat, are not. They are contaminated by the past and therefore the ritualised cleaning has developed, not so much for the items themselves, but for my mental recovery.

Yet this is not a healthy recovery, it is merely replacing one kind of mental illness with another. Having identified (to myself) the source of and outlining the nature of my obsessive behaviour I hope to review the steps I am taking to address it.

 

Signs My Body is No Longer My Own: A Draft

Let me begin by apologising for how barren my blog has been of creative thought recently.

In my post about blogging and creative writing, I talked about the connection between my writing and mental health. Thus, my poetry has always been inspired from strong emotions, the numbness of depression meaning that before starting this blog I hadn’t written a thing for two years.

For those of you who have been following my journey into writing, you will be aware that other than my first efforts (which were essentially homework) my poetry has come from a place of uncertainty, illness, pain and grief.

There are still some earlier pieces that I hope to share with you, but it has been far too long since I produced anything new, that I liked. I wanted to change my creative drive from a place of darkness to one of positivity.

That is at the heart of everything I feel throughout this pregnancy, even with all the recent unpleasantness, I feel incredibly positive and uplifted by being pregnant.

With the awareness and deep appreciation that not everyone finds joy and security in their pregnancies, I wanted to capture how I feel about my situation.

I have received criticism in the past for being too personal in my poetry, but I was so thrilled to have written something this morning that I was too excited not to share.

It is essentially a piece of free writing, my favourite, and I do hope that in some way it will resonate and perhaps bind the two different aspects of this blog; the public and the personal, together (#Idonthaveaniche).

As always, your thoughts and feedback are greatly appreciated, I look forward to reading them in the comments!

Signs

I feel nauseous
As my organs
Shift, squeeze
Into the narrowing space
Around my womb.

I am weary
With a tiredness I have never known
Physical, mental, emotional
It feels eternal;
Pregnancy’s constant companions.

I vomit
Retch
Rinse and repeat,
But whoever said that
Miracles came easily?

The midwife called him a parasite
But this is not a hostile take over
My body is a vessel
A cradle
Carrying a new life forward.

The marks on my body
Are not weakness.
They are not cracks or fractures
But glaze on my porcelain sides,
They bare the truth of my task.