Just as Things Look Up, They go Down Again.

Single Life.

Mum has recovered well from her tumour. I am newly single, still on the course. Tommy has moved out, promising me its just for a break, but he doesn't realise I know exactly what is going on.

The appointments and professional input has all but stopped for my oldest child. It seems that once he was finally diagnosed as being autistic, they all realised he couldn't be 'fixed', so just stopped trying. It was hard living with a child with autism, but the quirks and benefits actually outweighed any negativity surrounding the diagnosis and we got by.

I was continuing to live a life where I 'got by'. I had developed a phobia of driving on the dual carriageway or motorway following over two years of commuting on it daily, and experiencing near misses, seeing crazy driving, and travelling miles in terrible weather conditions. Every day I went to work, there seemed to be one event or another that would make me nervous or thankful to still be in one piece. I was managing driving around town, but wouldn't go any further than I needed to. I was managing to go to university, but again, only the bare minimum I needed to.

It was like high school all over again. Studying something I loved, yet letting my grades slip because of my anxiety and panic attacks.

 

Over the next few months, lots happened. Tommy and I reconciled, I graduated university with a 2:1, I applied for a job at my local hospital...I didn't get it. That was a bit of a kick in the teeth in all honesty. I loved working where I did. I know its rather big headed to say, but I thought I made a brilliant midwife, despite my anxiety, which didn't affect me at all on the job. The anxiety and panic left me when I was on the wards, I had no issues surrounding work, although the same cant be said for the commute to and from work.

There are other hospitals in the region. One about 40 minutes away on the bypass, a big maternity unit at the neuro hospital mum was in, one about 20 minutes along a motorway, and one about an hour away through A roads and some dual carriageway. But it was no good. I couldn't travel to any of those. I couldn't use the bypass at all. I couldn't drive on a motorway, and theres no way I could commute along A roads in the dark, snow, rain, fog etc after a 14 hour shift. I hedged all of my bets on getting a job at the local hospital. A lack of funding meant they just weren't able to take all of their own students on. There have been jobs advertised there since my original interview, but 4 years later, I haven't bothered applying for any of them. I fell out of love with midwifery, not the work, because I adored it. But the ethos and rules you have to work by, which sometimes clashed with my own ethos.

 

So, there I was. A stay at home mum. I didn't attend my graduation. I let the anxiety beat me. I was the first person in my family to ever have gone to university, and I think graduation is the climax, the part everyone looks forward to. But the thought of being in the town hall, being seated alphabetically, so I couldn't choose a seat near to the exit, and being 'stuck' in there for over an hour with hundreds of other students was something that was just too much for my anxiety to deal with.

I looked enviously at the pictures of my cohort that were posted to social media in the days following the graduation ceremony. They all looked so happy. Their parents and families were there and looked so proud. I was jealous that they were able to do that, with no hint of anxiety or panic. That they were able to be 'normal'. My degree certificate was sent out in the post to me as I wasn't there to receive it on graduation day. Great. What an anti-climax.

 

I tried to function at home as best as possible. I had generalised anxiety, the panic attacks were kept at bay by my safety behaviour and avoidance techniques. I thought I was able to carry on my life like that. I was wrong.

 

Thing with Tommy were so-so. He remained insecure. He remained jealous. He remained the sort of partner that went out to work, and expected me to have dinner on the table, and the house spotless on his return. He also expected that when I was also working fulltime and working terrible shifts. I remember working 36 hours straight with no sleep, when I was unexpectedly called out to a homebirth as I was driving home from a day working in the community at 17.30. I spent the entire night at the womans house, and helped her deliver her baby into the world at about 0330. It was an absolutely beautiful experience, and one I am so honoured and priviledged to have been a part of. By the time everything was cleaned up, the paperwork was complete, and she was tucked up in bed with her baby, it was nearly 07.00. I was due at the hospital for a shift at 07.30. I phoned the ward, and told them I had been up with a homebirth all night...yet they told me I still had to go in. I made my way to hospital, popped up to the theatre to grab some scrubs to change out of the clothes I had been in for 24 hours, and went to the ward where I worked almost a full shift. I was sent home an hour early at 20.30, as I just couldn't physically or mentally function anymore. I had left home expecting to work a regular community shift, then be home after 8 hours. I took a tiny bit of lunch for that day, no money, phone charger, medication etc, as I wasn't expecting to not see home again until the following night.

I cried all of the way home. I was so so tired. I had been in contact with Tommy via the ward phone throughout the time I was away, so he knew I was leaving off an hour early and would be home in about 40 minutes. I felt my eyes closing as I pulled up on the drive. I was exhausted. I hadn't eaten in over 30 hours, had no sleep, and barely had time to have any sort of a break even for a cup of tea. I walked through the door at home to find him sitting in the living room on his playstation. I asked if there was anything for dinner. He said no, he hadn't bothered doing me anything. He worked 9 hour shifts, and I ALWAYS had dinner for him the moment he walked through the door, yet there I was, without the energy to even stand up anymore, and he hadn't even bothered to chuck a couple of bits of bread in the toaster. He was playing online games with his friends, and said he would do me beans on toast after he had finished the game he had just started. I said not to bother, and literally crawled up the stairs to bed. I don't mean metaphorically crawled. I literally climbed the stairs on my hands and knees, as I simply didn't have it in me to walk up them normally. I climbed into bed, finally, but set my alarm for 06.00, no rest for the wicked, I was due on the ward again the next day. And, off I went the next day at 0600, for yet another 14 hour shift, despite still not having anything to eat since two days before. I was heading for a fall. I didn't see it at the time, but I was setting myself up to crash and burn in a spectacular way.

And that's exactly what I did.