On the way to recovery

Right. Its been a long time since I posted and that is for good reasons. My son is beginning to get there as far as his moods go. The change has happened so slowly that it has been hardly noticeable, but the most important thing is that change has come.

He is not worrying as much any more and he is not obsessed with sickness or sadness. He is even laughing again, which may not sound much, but there was a time when I thought I might never hear him laugh again.

We are no longer going to CAMHS as the therapist felt that there was little more he could do for my son. I think the main reason for this was that my son refused point blank to open up to the man. It was a losing battle because my boy just did not respect or trust him. Personally I grew to like him and felt that he was trying hard to help, but our initial appointments where the therapist showed an amazing level of incompetence set the tone for my son's opinion.

An important point to remember for anyone out there ... Be ready, be on time for your patients, prepare the correct forms to be filled, read the instructions for your camera so that you don't spend pointless minutes fiddling about trying to turn the thing on ...

The great thing is that we have an open door for us in the future. The therapist told me that if my son starts to have problems again we can phone and go to visit. That is a relief for me as it took so long to get help in the first place.

I am not confident that my son will continue problem and depression free forever, but I hope he does and I am now better equipped to help him if he does start to have problems.

This whole episode has been so scary. I feel that I have coped more or less on my own for lots of it and having this blog has helped so much. I have always needed to write about my worries and problems and this has definitely been incredibly stressful. To see someone you love in such desperate straights is appalling and it has opened my eyes to the struggle people have to go through to get help. You would think that doctors would leap to help you and your child, but no, you have to fight and fight.

I just count us so incredibly fortunate that he seems to be on the way to recovery.

Keeping going ...

I have written on my main blog about how I am feeling. I haven't gone into details particularly, just said that I am struggling and can see the signs of depression. Its not as bad as when I had PND, but I can feel it starting.9 months of first bullying and belittling at work and then, on top of that, my son's struggle with depression has taken its toll.

I told my husband that I had made an appointment to see our GP as I want to be honest with him.Part of me wishes I hadn't though as I don't want to put him under any more stress. It makes me feel that I need to try as hard as I can to appear normal. If people, including my husband, ask if I am ok I reply breezily " Yes thanks, I'm fine!"

But I am not. I went to football today and it was painful. It was the longest hour I have experienced in a long time. All I wanted to do was leave - just go and lie down on the side of the pitch. But I didn't because I need people to think I am ok. If I had said I was feeling ill it would have attracted more attention than struggling through the game. People don't want to know that the world is closing in on you and you just want to have it all stop.

Things got better. I went for a drink with the girls and in their company I came back to life. It is such a bloody effort though - planning things to do to keep me occupied, putting a smile on my face ...

I hate that after all these years I am back in this place - a place of muffled emptiness, where nothing has any point or purpose. I am only writing this because this is my honest place. In my real world I am keeping on - cooking tea, going to work, comforting my son, supporting my husband, working. I have to keep going for these next 12 days, until I have my doctor's appointment

BritMums Live Failure ...

I am sitting in my hotel room, lap top on my lap funny enough, telly on, ready to order food. Where should I be? At the BritMums Live Award Ceremony. I don't really know why I went in the first place.I paid for my ticket and my beautiful husband paid for this amazing hotel room. I went along, a little nervous, but hoping to have fun.

Oh My God. Who was I kidding? How many circuits of the hall did I make before I was just overcome with the whole bloody loneliness of it all? Lots of bloggers chatting away ... and to be honest I did chat to people too. But at the end of the day you are not going to find bosom buddies in the flash of a five minute conversation are you? Complete strangers are not going to say "Hey! We've just met!! Come for dinner!"

In the end I just thought "What the hell am I doing here?" I am a Finalist in a category of the BiBs, but they are just about to start and I can't face being there, to sit alone in a room full of jolly strangers, fighting back tears. So here I am.

And I wonder why my son is depressed ... The closest I got with anyone this afternoon was with Ruby Wax. She spoke about her web site Black Dog Tribe which is a meeting place for those suffering from mental illness. Afterwards I bought her book and as she signed it I started to say what a good job I thought she was doing. I couldn't finish my sentence. I just choked up and the tears started to well. I felt awful. I am so emotional at the moment. Even as I type the tears are dripping down my face.

I think perhaps I am heading for depression again. This year has been so hard and my emotion is so close to the surface all the time. Inside I feel so fragile.

I don't know if I will win an award and I don't really care. I don't know if I will go back tomorrow. The fun of these things is to be with friends, to talk and exchange ideas. This is more about sitting and listening to speakers. And I have nobody to sit with. I just feel terrible that my husband has taken 3 days off and paid for me to come here. How can I tell him that I gave up and sat in my hotel room? I feel so pathetic and so lonely. This is the only place I can come to to be honest and write my feelings without fear of ... oh God, I don't know. I just hate that I am so bloody weak. And what I hate more than anything is that I have passed my mentalness on to my son.

Depression in young people.

It's been quite a while since I wrote on here. Partly because life has been busy, partly because my son began to get better. This week has been half term here and my son was due to go away with the school on an adventure holiday. He went last year with his old school and absolutely loved it. It was touch and go this year as to whether he would be well enough to go, but in the end he did go and we were very proud of that.

My husband, eldest son and I were looking forward to a stress free week together. Sadly this only lasted 2 days. On the second day we got a phone call to say my son was not coping, wouldn't stop crying. I came off the phone and couldn't stop my own tears dripping down my face. We drove home from the garden centre where we had been having lunch and I packed a bag to drive down to the coast.

Before I left the three of us just held each other quietly. Then off I went.

When I got there to pick him up he was silent, subdued ...  a shadow of what he was this time last year. We drove home together and as we got closer to home he began to cheer up. We started to sing along to the radio.

This whole experience is exhausting as a parent. To be with someone who is constantly negative, constantly needy is so incredibly draining. I try to be patient, loving, reassuring, but some days its too much. I just want to scream.

The therapy sessions he is having with CAMHS are appalling so far. The therapist is an incompetent nincompoop. I phoned my GP on Friday, having reached a low ebb and was told by the delightful receptionist to phone back next Thursday ... or I could have an appointment on the 3rd July. I curbed my impulse to say that I hoped my son hadn't actually killed himself by next Thursday and asked if there was nothing sooner bearing in mind my 12 year old's desire to be dead. A vacancy in the doctor's schedule on Monday miraculously opened. But that was still 3 days away.

This whole experience has revealed to me the hopeless position one is in when confronted by illness like this. You have to fight for everything.

So ... tomorrow my jobs are:

• phone GP to discuss uselessness of CAMHS therapist ( does he even have a qualification??)
• phone school to ask SENCO for appointment for help.
• Try and push for counselling somewhere effective.

I so desperately want my son to be better. I look at photos of him a year ago and wish I could get him back. I just have to stay positive. He did start to get better and this is just a set back. We are in a far better position than some people.

Hypnotherapist.

We went to the hypnotherapist today. My son had been having a slightly more positive day, but after seeing her he went downhill. He thought she was rubbish - a "stupid cow" in his words. Personally I thought she was lovely and very good with him.

I have done my best to be calm and positive with him tonight. He went to bed in pieces but I managed to calm him down. I used something my dad taught me - imagining you are lying in the warm sun, touching the sand with your fingers and feeling the sun move up your body from the toes to the top of your head, relaxing your muscles as it goes, releasing the tension out of the ends of your fingers and the top of your head. I was amazed as he completely calmed down, relaxed and went to sleep.

I took my eldest boy to football training and on the way back I stopped in the driveway to phone my mum. Funny how mums are needed even when your 48. Actually my brother answered the phone and I had a mini melt down with him. I spend so much of my time being strong for everyone that sometimes I just have to let it all go. I still have written nothing for my essay and have just now finished planning my lesson for tomorrow. It's 23.19 and I feel rather empty.

A good night's sleep will make me feel better, but I dread each morning, having to go into his bedroom, not knowing how he will be.

Its just a few weeks ago, February, that he was fine. When we get through this I am going to appreciate every song he sings, every joke he tells, everything.

And so life continues ...

An incredibly frustrating day with my son clinging to me most of the day, not eating because he's frightened he will be sick. I have not been able to do any reading or plan my lesson for tomorrow. I don't feel capable of doing those things. All I want is this to be over.

I have to face work tomorrow which I am dreading. The difficulties between the woman I work with and myself got worse before Easter as although she is being nicer to me after I threatened a bullying in the work place action, she still treats the children with coldness and disdain. I am not prepared to stand by and watch that so raised it in what was to be our last meeting with our line manager. If looks could have killed I would be stone dead.

So, all in all life is not a bundle of roses right now, if that's the right expression - I fear not.

At least I have managed to get an appointment for my son with the hypnotherapist. I really hope she is able to do something for him. He seems up for it, which is good.

I am feeling like such a bad mother. I have struggled with motherhood and right now although I am doing my best to be calm and loving I just want to scream. Surely I should be filled with compassion and caring concern? Actually I am just totally pissed off with the whole situation. I wonder if I am somehow to blame for all of it. Did I react in a way that triggered it all when my son threw up that night?

I am also really afraid that after 3 years of bloody hard work on my Degree course I am going to end up failing because of this.At the moment, on this module, I am averaging 89.75%, but I have an essay due in a week on Thursday and God knows how I am going to be able to write it.

I am one exhausted, frustrated woman.

Emetophobia

I am beginning to forget what ordinary life is like. I've just realised that I forgot to go to my Pilates class half an hour ago as I was dealing with my son again. I have done only an hour of reading for my OU course this holiday because of the stress of it all.

I need to plan a lesson for tomorrow too, but when you are trying to be supportive and calm the things that you need to do in your life go out of the window. I found myself the other day, out and about, and finding any excuse not to come home. As I eventually did drive home my tummy filled with dread the closer I got.

I have found out that the reason for my son's misery is his fear of being sick. This is, apparently, a very common fear and this fear creates the domino effect of anxiety and misery. I have contacted a friend who is a hypnotherapist in the hope that this might help. My father was a big believer in hypnotherapy, using it in his work as a GP.

Tomorrow my boys go back to school and I have been in touch with the Student Support centre who say I can drop him off with them first thing and then they will get him into lessons. Fingers crossed it will go ok.

In the meantime I am eating for England. groan.

Trying to be normal in the face of despair.

The last couple of days have been very hard. Yesterday I comforted my son as he screamed and sobbed, begging me to kill him. He just kept saying that he wanted to die.

I found the strength from somewhere to stay very calm and eventually he calmed down and was exhausted.

Our doctor has been very understanding, although things are moving very slowly. He faxed CAMHS again to ask them to phone us and maybe move our appointment closer. The appointment has not been moved yet, but I was called today by a lovely lady who gave me encouragement. Basically we are doing all we can do. There is no magic cure. She did give me the number of a Mental Health Helpline, so at least I can talk to someone if it gets really bad.

This is so draining and I am aware that I am wandering about with hair that looks like crap and no make up - not like me at all. I must be careful not to let myself go down the route of depression, especially when my husband goes back to work on Sunday.

My eldest son is being incredible. He is just wonderful - so solid and yet not losing his wry sense of humour.

So, onwards and upwards. We all played tennis together today and the boys are off out now to play football. I am off to get food for tomorrow night when we are having friends over. We have both thought about cancelling, but we both think that we need a night with good friends and a few drinks. They will understand the situation.

Right. I must get going.Thanks for reading.

My first post.

This my first post on this, my new blog. This is to be my place of sanity. A place where I can write the things that are really bothering me, but can't write on my everyday blog. This is a place where nobody I know in real life will ever find me. I hope. I hope this will not be a place of misery or negativity, but if it is then please understand. I am not losing my mind. I am saving it by writing these words that otherwise swell up inside me like bitter poison.

I have been shopping with my son today. He is 12 and over the last several weeks he has suffered from anxiety ... depression. It came on shortly after we came back from holiday in February. He was violently sick before we left, well during the week and then started to be nervous, worry. He stopped eating. He began to talk of killing himself - wanting the feeling of sadness to end.

There is nothing so awful as holding your previously healthy son in your arms as he keens in misery - wailing and sobbing, his whole body wracked with despair, begging to be put out of his agony.

We took him for blood tests - normal. We tried to go privately to get help - our insurance wouldn't cover it. Our GP was lovely and referred him urgently to CAMHS   . We have an appointment with them in May. May.

We link his unhappiness to a mixture of hormones, new school and worrying about my husband and I. Especially my husband who hates his job and around whom we tend to walk on eggshells. He is our rock, but when he is unhappy or sad it affects the whole family.

My son has good days and bad days, but we never know what each morning will bring. Yesterday, after a couple of good days, he slipped back into his misery - howling, sobbing, wanting to be dead. I feel as though this is too much for my husband. I am coping alone. At work the other day I just broke down.

Today he is up and down. Our shopping trip was a nightmare as he goes from being suicidal to bouncing off the walls, singing and shouting. I am exhausted by his behaviour and frustrated by my husband's lack of understanding. Don't get me wrong - he is trying, but it is just too much for him to understand. But I feel myself getting so angry. I want to scream at my son to 'SHUT UP!!!!' but of course I don't.

I cannot believe that a boy of 12 has to wait so long to get help. By the time we have the first appointment with CAMHS it will be 3 months. 3 months coping with this sort of behaviour is horrendous. The one good thing is his school and their support. Without them I don't know where we would be.

Well ... that feels a bit better. At last I have written things down in a way other than factual diaries to take to the psychiatrist