Mummy Issues

I recently met with my psychiatrist and psychologist on the same day, my psychiatrist is generally AMAZING and is very big on talk therapy, unlike other shrinks I have seen who pull out the script pad the minute you walk through the door and then kick you out again. 

Having both appointments on the same day was unintentional but it turned out to be very useful as I had some time to think about my discussion with my psychiatrist and then explore that further with my psychologist and had a bit of an epiphany.

Apparently, despite all the denial it turns out that I actually do have some deep seeded unresolved ‘Mummy Issues’ after all, but don’t get me wrong, I had a wonderful upbringing. Growing up my much older half-brother & sister lived with their mother interstate and I lived the glorious life of an only child there was never any abuse, my parents were (and still are) happily married and I don’t ever remember them fighting. I have never doubted that I was loved – in fact I was doted on and spoiled rotten but perhaps that is a big part of the problem.

I didn’t grow up with siblings so I wasn’t teased at home and when I entered school life and the bullying began I couldn’t understand why other children could be so mean, intentionally harming others simply didn’t make any sense to me, the kids laughed at me because I was fat, tripped me over and called me names, I was devastated.

When I told mum she just said that it wasn’t true and that I was beautiful but she was my mother and she always said that, but the kids at school had no bias’s so why would they lie? Besides the evidence in the mirror was pretty damning. I soon decided I couldn't trust anything positive my mother said because she HAD to be nice to me.

When I came home in tears Mum’s efforts to cheer me up involved giving me a hug and pretty much anything that I wanted and I wanted junk food. I was allowed to drink as much soft drink as I wanted from as far back as I can remember and I started drinking coffee at around age 7 we actually had a “chocolate drawer” in my house accessible and filled to the brim with a variety of fun size treats. So when I was around 8yrs old and too young to grasp what caused weight gain in the first place, I was consoled for being teased about my weight with chocolate treats or trips to McDonalds.

I don’t quite know how mum, who was frequently on a ‘diet’ or joining assorted weight watcher style groups, didn’t realise that all the “treats” to make me feel better were just adding to the problem. She maintained at the time that I wasn’t fat, and to this day claims that because I am smaller now as an adult it was “just puppy fat” but photo’s don’t lie and my current body shape is due to an eating disorder so frankly Mum…. Sigh… 

My mother treated me like a little adult from early on, she thought I was mature for my age and spoke to me as such. I knew right from wrong, my core values were solid and so I was given very few boundaries and expected to make the right decisions.

I never wanted to disappoint my parents, but of course like all children I wanted to push the limits, the desire to try new things and experience the thrill of danger is strong. I quickly learned that if I simply chose to lie about my actions I could get away with pretty much anything I desired, I was the master of my own destiny and as I became a teenager and hormones and hypomania began rearing their ugly heads, all good intentions and common sense went out the window.

I finally found friends as awkward as me, we did drugs, I shaved my head, had sex and partied all night while I “stayed over at a friend’s place” and then I came home and did my homework where no one was the wiser. At 14 I got sick of the continued bullying and started losing weight, by 15 years old I had developed full blown anorexia and was filled with psychotic paranoia, I was terrified of food, counted every calorie, exercised constantly and thought my parents were trying to poison me. Yes, my parents were worried but I lied to them, I said I was fine and they seemed to believe me. I told them I must be having a growth spurt, I pretended to eat before they got up, threw my school lunches away and became a ‘vegetarian’ so I could make my own dinners. 

They only took me to a doctor once, a GP. My BMI was about 15 and she told me if I didn’t eat I would end up with a feeding tube and I simply lied and told her I wasn't afraid to gain weight and I would eat more, she reviewed me a week later so I water loaded before the appointment and so when I was weighed I was deemed to be ‘making progress’ I lied and told her I felt much better with more weight on me and that was the end of that. Case closed, nothing to worry about and no psychiatric assessment at all. 

Of course my weight continued to drop, I wore baggier clothes and when the school worried I denied any problem to them and myself – nobody was going to make me fat again. I was being asked to see the counselor daily and just skipped school instead – I never even met her. When they pushed the issue and had a meeting with my mother behind my back I was furious, Mum felt guilty and I just stopped going to school altogether.

 At 15 ½  I got a full time retail job and Mum and Dad went along with it.

I started dating a 30yr old just after my 16^th birthday and they smiled as they shook his hand, I left home a few months later so that I could be alone with my eating disorder and they helped me move. No one ever put their foot down, or even really tried – they were always super supportive, always trusting my judgement.

Mum still prides herself on having a ‘friendship’ with me, she had always wanted to be my friend not ‘just my mother’ but sometimes kids need to be treated like kids, they need to be given firm boundaries and told “no”.

Yes, it turns out that I am harbouring some parental resentment there after all. I love my Mum very much and I know she did her best and what she believed was the right thing to do at the time, but I can't help but feel that maybe if she had said “No” more often when I was little I wouldn’t have been as plump, perhaps teased a little less and not gone on to develop an eating disorder. Maybe I wouldn’t still be dealing with one now at 32 if I had gotten actual psychological help when I first needed it and maybe my bipolar would have been recognised and diagnosed earlier and some of my manic self-destructiveness could have been prevented.

That being said, I have certainly learned a lot from my experiences and if all of that stuff hadn’t of happened I probably wouldn’t have met my husband, been knocked up at 17 and have the amazing family I have today.

Do you blame your parents for your issues?

 

Holiday-Lag

I am home after five days in Brisbane, the sunshine state certainly put on a good show for us weather wise living up to the old saying “Queensland is beautiful one day, perfect the next!”

Bridge to the city

So my eldest son (Mr 14), my Dad and I flew up last Thursday to visit my brother, his fiancé and their exceptionally cute two year old son for five days. It was Mr 14's first plane trip and he loved it! No travel sickness for anyone, I think I have finally found a travel pill that works and we also had an incredibly smooth flight which helps. 

 My brother is lucky enough to live within walking distance of pituresque Southbank and the bustling Brisbane City Centre, I had never really spent time in Brisbane before and was surprised at just how beautiful and green it was, there are parklands, play grounds and manicured public gardens everywhere and of course it's warm so all the trees have leaves in winter which was a pleasant change from my part of the country!  

Roma Street Gardens

So my holiday was fantastic but today I have been hit with wave of unexpected depression. Holiday-lag perhaps. I think that there are many contributing factors, I returned home to find out that we had completely run out of water and the water truck man I had organized didn't turn up then when I rang him he said he couldn't come out until tomorrow and he had increased his price by $80. We told him not to worry about it and now we have to figure something else out so that we can shower again as it doesn't look like it's going to rain any time soon.

View from the Mt Coot-tha Lookout

I am really tired, I have actually slept more in the last week than I usually do but for some reason I am exhausted. My routine is out of whack, I haven't been for a run in a week which is stressing me out, I think spending that time with my brother's family made me realize how much I miss seeing them and overwhelmingly I am really noticing the slow decline in Dad. 

My regular readers would know that my Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s earlier this year, it's sad to see Dad's memories fading, watching him have fun with my young nephew and knowing that he soon won't remember it so it was really special to be able to get lots of photographs and some video footage of the trip that we can show him later on.

One evening after Dad turned in for the night, my brother, sister in law and I watched a 4 corners episode about Alzheimer's and Dementia. It followed the stories of a few different people as their condition progressed and it was sobering to say the least, there is such a long road to go down, it's scary and so, so sad.

When we flew back to Canberra Mr14 and I spent the night at Dad's place, Mum is still away in Canada with her friend and he is leaving for his bucket list trip to Darwin today that Mum booked for him seemingly out of some sort of miss-placed guilt about going overseas without him. While his condition isn't too bad yet and the new medication he is on is making a difference, I am quite worried about him embarking on this trip alone. 

I really want him to have the experience - he's been talking about going since I was about 5yrs old, but I wish Mum was going with him and I am annoyed at her for being so unconcerned about it all.

 He is mostly fine as long as he sticks to his routine and everything goes exactly as he expects it to like at home, but he gets quite muddled & distressed when something changes and frankly he has been back home from Brisbane 24 hours and was already tired, he then he had to leave at 4.30am get a taxi to the airport catch a plane to Sydney, then transfer all his baggage and catch a new plane in a different area to Darwin and then find the tour group. Coming home is even more complicated- its a lot of steps for him at the best of times and I really hope there are no gate changes or delays!

Dodgy Selfie

It is an over 50's tour group and I rang them and told them about Dad's condition as my Mum had not even mentioned it when she booked him in ( I swear she's in denial). They were very grateful to have the heads up and I gave them my contact details in case of any issues. I have given him dot point, step by step instructions and booked his taxi for him, I went through his phone and updated his contacts information and filled out his medical ID with all of his medications, current doses etc. He can sort them into their little boxes but if you ask him out of context what he takes, he can't tell you.

Sigh... His plane should be landing in Darwin in about five minutes so I will send him a text message to ask if he had a good flight (and check that he got there ok!).

Have you had experience with Dementia /Alzheimer's in a loved one?
Do you get holiday-lag when you come home to reality?

A New Psychologist And A Holiday

I see my psychiatrist every three months or so and while she is AMAZING keeps my meds in check and does talk therapy I really benefited from seeing someone for therapy more regularly. I was hesitant to find a new psychologist; my first one was incredible but when she left the next person I saw was a really bad fit. 

Frankly, the rigmarole of going through my whole story again only to potentially not click with them seemed too much like hard work. But when I saw my GP the other day to get a new script she told me about a new person starting at their clinic she is new to the psychology field and as a trainee she is still getting her hours up and therefor is providing a free service for 6 months.

It had been more than a year since I last saw someone and it was too good an offer to refuse so today I met up with Fiona. She was lovely! She asked me what I wanted to achieve from our sessions and I said I finally wanted to work on my eating disorder. The thing that rules my life and makes me the most miserable is also one of the hardest things to let go.

This session was mostly giving my history but she was able to read me quite well, she seemed to understand the way I think and gave some helpful insights, I am looking forward to working with her more and terrified at the same time. I am scared of losing my control, I am scared of getting fat and I am scared of not caring that I’m getting fat – which doesn’t really make any sense but then again, what part of this does?

In other news, school went back today and I am going to Brisbane on Thursday!! I am sick to death of the negative zero temperatures where I live and so sunny Queensland should offer a nice respite somewhere in the mid 20’s ahh T-shirt weather, have I mentioned how much I HATE winter? (Yes Jamoalki, I KNOW it’s nothing compared to where you live but I have a low cold tolerance!)

So I am going with my father for his birthday and taking my oldest son to visit my brother who lives there with his family while my Mum is gallivanting around Canada with her sugar daddy. (more on that later…) We are really looking forward to it, particularly Mr 14 as this will be his first time on an aeroplane. 

Well the day has flown by and I must retrieve the killdren children from the bus now, I will take my laptop to QLD and hopefully get a chance to do some writing, blogging and photo taking while I am there.  

Do you click well with your psychologist?

Are you a winter or a summer person?

Am I a wuss for thinking minus 8 Celsius is really fricken cold?