Becoming a Mum

My last post was a letter to the father of my child. Yep, that's right. I've had a baby. A beautiful baby boy.

He's nearly three months old now. The first few weeks of his life have been... utter chaos. I won't get into great detail in this post, but I am just gonna take a moment to talk about postpartum. 

My mind, my body, and my spirit are forever changed. 

• My mind.. Between the hormones, the sleep deprivation, and the pre-existing mental health issues rearing up, I feel like a hot mess. 
  
  
• My body.. Stretched, stitched, scarred. My body feels foreign to me, it's like I'm learning how to love this new physical version of myself.
  
  
• My spirit.. Transformed. From the moment this sweet child was placed in my arms, I felt a love like no other.

Parenthood is a wild ride, full of ups, downs, twists and bends, and so much love. But there's also been a lot of hurt. And at the moment, his father and I are separated. Will we get back together? I don't know. I'm trying not to make any big decisions, and taking things one day at a time.

I just want to be the best mum I can be, and give him every opportunity to grow into the best little human. That's a lot of pressure to put on myself, huh? 

All I can do is my best. One day at a time.

“A leopard can’t change it’s spots.”

 

I wanted so badly for it to be you. For you to be my safe place, my best friend, my everything.

Maybe it wasn’t ever meant to be. Maybe I loved the idea of who you could be, the potential I saw in you.

“A leopard can’t change it’s spots.”

Maybe you’re just not capable of being the person I want you to be. The person I need you to be. The person your son needs you to be.

Actions speak louder than words, and your actions the last couple weeks have shown me that you’re still just thinking about yourself. You’re still only worried about you.

Your son needs you to step up, and beyond yourself. Your son needs a father. A man who puts his own needs aside to support his family. 

There's part of me that still has hope. But is that just stupid at this point?

 I've had a really difficult couple of years....

My brain broke, and my world fell apart.

I was lucky enough to spend a few months overseas to focus on healing.. And now that I'm back in Sydney, I'm trying to work out what the next chapter is going to entail.

I don't plan to stay in Sydney.

Lost

 You can't escape your past. 

But you can't change it. 

You can't run away from yourself. 

But you can grow, and learn, and change the path you're on. 

I don't want to let my past haunt me any more. 

Let go...

 

I have just under 5 weeks before I head back to Australia. 

Part of me feels ready. 

I'm not the same person who left Sydney. She was fragile, an anxious depressed mess. 

I'm stronger. Happier. Healthier. 

But I'm still kinda sorta maybe definitely terrified of going back. 

Being back in the same environment where I was so broken. I know it's not permanent, and I'll be putting the wheels on motion to move asap, but moving isn't easy when you've got no money.  

And where am I moving to? 

So much is up in the air. 

It'll all work out… right? 

Let go… and let…. God?

What i remember most...

 It Seems

The first thing I forget about someone

Is the sound of their voice.

I've always had a terrible memory. Call it a symptom of a life time of trauma, i guess. 

I may not remember her voice, but I remember the tears streaming down her face that day. 

I remember, a week or so later, how she walked away. 

I remember feeling so lost, and confused, and alone. 

And i remember feeling so broken, and used.

My memory often fails me. But the things I do remember, oh how I wish I could forget. The curve of her hips. The softness of her kiss.

I don't know what hurts more. Remembering the love. Or recalling the hurt. 

And when I find myself drowning in those memories, I remind myself. She walked away, when I needed her most. 

Tired

 I'm tired. 

I'm tired of putting it all on the table

With a card that says 

"This is all I have to offer, please

Love me"

Maybe I need to learn

How to play the game

But that's not who I am

But am I just setting myself up

For heartbreak

Over 

And over

Again?

There's that old saying.. why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free. 

I'm tired. And it always ends the same way.

Flashes of memories

 Every now and then I get flashes of memories. The happy memories are worse, if im honest. 

I can't deny you. You were such a big part of my life. I still tear up thinking about how it ended.

But I look forward to a happy future, while being grounded in the present.  

Despite...

 Despite the fact I've spent all day

Lying in bed spiralling

With those awful thoughts on repeat

I get up, and jump in the pool 

And swim until I'm short on breath

Despite the fact that I'm hating 

Myself today

With those awful thoughts on repeat

I resist the urge to sit under the shower

And wallow even further

Despite the fact I feel alone

Rejected, unworthy

And so God damn unsure

I put on a brave face

Because despite what my depression

Tries to tell me

I'm worthy, i have purpose

And I won't give in

Despite... and maybe to spite you

I won't give in

Tired thoughts

Is it hopeless, to want a love like that? 

The kind of love that inspires movies and books and songs. 

Is it delusional, to hope to be loved like that? 

I know I can love like that. 

I'm just not sure I can be loved like that.  

Because if history is anything to go by…

I'm left time and time again… feeling like I'm not worth it. 

Maybe I give too much, too quickly. 

That's kinda hard to avoid, when I wear my heart on my sleeve. 

"Not everybody is worthy of your love"

 It's easy to look back with shame. Chapters of my life that ended horribly. Where my brain malfunctioned completely. Where too much stress, and a history of trauma, and pain, caused my neurons to go haywire. 

That shame is often amplified thinking about the people in my life who walked away when I needed them the most. 

People I thought loved me and cared about me. People I loved and cared so deeply for. People I'd supported through their darkest moments. 

Was my pain really something to be ashamed of? Such a huge burden?

I'm so incredibly grateful to the people who did stick by me and try their best to love and support me.

To my family, no matter how dysfunctional we can be, we are always there for each other. 

And the friends who did stick around, despite how difficult that was.

I love easily. And I care deeply.

As a wise soul said to me today:

"Not everybody is worthy of your love."

Late nights, deep thoughts

I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. 

I've hurt people, and I've been hurt. 

I have trouble forgiving myself.

I blame myself, even when it wasn't my fault.

I apologise, even when I'm the one hurting. 

I'm trying to be a better version of me. I'm trying to forgive myself, and love myself, the way I love others. But it's not easy. 

I'm trying to allow myself to be loved, while standing tall in my worth, and creating boundaries. 

I'm trying to look towards a future, when I look back at a past full of so much pain.

I'm trying to be present, and not let the dark thoughts weigh me down. 

I'm trying. 

Whispers of Doubt

 I'm a whirlwind of emotions tonight and as usual, it's easier to spit out a poem than it is to talk about how I'm feeling. 

I’m still battling with these 

Whispers of doubt

The part of me

That doesn’t believe

I can manage without

Without 

Someone holding my hand

Without 

Someone to lean on

Without support from other people

I feel lost and alone

But what does it mean, to be 

Independent and free?

Is it about choosing

A life that makes me happy?

Maybe that life

Involves support 

From people I love

With

Someone holding my hand

With

Someone to lean on

But giving me space

To make my own choice

To decide for myself

Which way forward.

Long distance love

 Long distance relationships are hard, especially early in a relationship. 

I found myself really upset last night, which turned out was fuelled by hormones. But I really missed him. 

I want movie dates, and laughter, and yummy food, and cuddling on the couch, and instead, we've got video calls... and texts... and more video calls.. 

I'm trying to use this time to focus on me. 

But it's hard. 

I found home in his arms, and I'm homesick.

 

TW: sexual assault

 The third chapter of my memoir recounts some of the abuse I've survived. The The last paragraph felt important to share:

Sex is an act of vulnerability. It is intimate, and should be loving, with someone who respects you, with someone you trust. When sex is an act of violence, of disrespect, of trauma, it scars the victim in ways they don’t even realise. It would haunt me in moments of intimacy with partners who did really care about me. It would haunt my dreams. It would haunt me in how I would present myself, how I would dress, and how I would act around strangers. It would haunt me in how I would act around lovers.

And in some ways, it still haunts me.

 

Scars

 

All those things
You never dared to say out loud
They left scars
Where others cannot see
All the hurt
You kept inside now flows
Down your cheeks
When others cannot see
All the hands
That disregarded your consent
Leaving broken walls
Where others dare not be
All the guilt
That was never yours
Fills you with doubt
Where others cannot reach
All the pain
That others caused
They left scars
Where others cannot see

It took me a long time to recognise that what happened to me wasn't my fault.  

Homesick

 Sitting in a hotel in Sri Lanka, listening to the rain, writing poems and lyrics.. never thought this would be my life, but here I am.  

I'm feeling like I need some direction though. Like I need some solid goals. I know I want to go back and pack up my unit in Sydney, and close that chapter of my life. But where to from there? So much uncertainty... 

I've been struggling with my mood a lot today. A phone call with a friend helped me on point why I've been feeling so low. And it boils down to safety. While there has been a nice layer of safety being with my parents, we've been travelling a lot, and not really had a home base for a few months. And even prior to leaving to go to India, I was lacking safety, and didn't feel like where I was living was "home".

What defines "home"? 

Somewhere you can go to seek shelter from the world? To switch off? 

Somewhere you feel loved, and supported, accepted for who you are? With no pressure to be anyone or anything, a space to just exist.  

But what happens when that pressure comes from within you? Then, nowhere is going to feel like home, nowhere is going to feel comfortable or safe.

Stay

 

Nearly 800, 000 people kill themselves every year. Last year, I was nearly one of those people. I was convinced my life wasn't worth living, that I was a burden to everyone, and that I was completely worthless.

If I had ended my life, I would have missed so much. So many smiles, hugs, so much laughter and joy. I would have missed out on meeting the love of my life. And I would have left behind so much pain.

No matter how dark it seems, things will ALWAYS get better. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week. But, if you are struggling,  PLEASE reach out. You are not alone.

You are worthy.
You are loved.
You matter.
And I'm glad you're here.

Healing

 

Sometimes we think we've moved on, healed the pain from the past, and then suddenly we get confronted, triggered, upset. And often, the hardest part on the journey of healing, is not forgiving others, but forgiving yourself. 

Forgiving yourself for not knowing then what you know now. 

Forgiving yourself for not saying or doing what you wanted to say or do. 

Forgiving yourself for staying, when you knew in your heart you should go.

And on my journey of forgiving myself, I get stuck, hit speed bumps, and take wrong turns, more often than I'd like to admit. But the weight of my past pain has gotten heavy, and it's time to let go. 

It's time to forgive. And heal.

Part 2 chapter 2 - freedom to focus

Sri Lanka, paradise... a paradise in political turmoil, but paradise nonetheless. 

Being in Sri Lanka has given me the freedom to focus - on myself, on my writing, on where I'm headed. 

I had decided about 6 months ago that I wasn't going to invest the time, energy, and commitment needed to complete the honours year of my degree. After all, I have a 10 year window and can always return to it later.

I've spent so much of my adult life dedicated to my studies, and I just.... I just want to live for a change. Ultimately,  the whole reason for doing my degree, and the other courses I've completed,  is to make a difference in other people's lives. 

I know what it's like to feel broken, alone, desperate. I know what it's like, and I want to sit with you while you find your way back to the light. 

With my lived experiences, and my academic knowledge understanding, I want to start making a difference, using the skills I have.

Plus, being in Sydney generally makes me miserable,  it's not a place of peace, but clouded with memories, most of them negative. 

So I'd been thinking I wanted to focus on my creative endeavours- my writing, art, photography... perhaps pick up some casual care work.

And then I met a man, and when our worlds collided I realised that I had a new path entirely. A path walking beside him. But we haven't quite worked out which way that path is headed. So in the meantime,  I'll continue to appreciate my new found peace and freedom within myself, reflect on what I want career-wise, and enjoy the serenity in Sri Lanka. 

Pop Pop

 I've never had a strong relationship with my grandparents. We moved to the other side of the world when I was 6, which makes it hard to maintain relationships with family. Once we moved, my maternal grandmother would post vhs tapes of my favourite cartoons from the UK (Lambchop's sing along, the Wombles, and Rupert Bear, just to name a few!) 

When my mum and I returned to Scotland 10 years later for my grandmothers funeral, my grandfather, a very reserved man, was very quiet, obviously dealing with the grief of losing his wife. The day we left, was the only day he gave me a big hug. And once back in Australia, we kept in touch on Skype, talking almost every night. I was devastated when he too passed away. 

As for my dads side of the family, I never really had a very close relationship with his parents. Although, my Nanny never missed a birthday, and my grandfather sent me some beautiful pictures he painted of my favourite Disney characters, and animals. 

So when we arrived in Sri Lanka, and I met my neighbour in the hotel, it didn't take long for him to adopt me as his granddaughter. He's such a lovely man. This poem is for him: