My biggest lady is a treasure. She truly is. She is so caring, and compassionate, always there for others. She tries so hard to do the right thing by people, and is the first one in line to help. She’d give the dress off her back (just don’t ask her for her tutus…. Girl ain’t parting with no tutus) to make someone else feel better. It is heart-melting stuff.
With such compassion though, comes the other end of the spectrum: emotionality. In buckets. In fact, the buckets are overflowing with emotions and they’re leaking all over the floor, and filling up rooms and our feet are wading in all these feelings and I’m considering purchasing flippers and goggles to swim through the overflow.
My brain right now. More mush than usual mush. And it’s pretty mush. Why? No idea.
Just the same ol’ bundle dropping cycle.
You know how you go along, doing all the things, thinking you’re on top of it all and invincible, and then suddenly, somehow the tables are turned and all the things are on top of you and you’re just a ball of mush?
Do you ever just feel like you’re a bit shit? Or that others might think you’re a bit shit?
Pull up a chair my friend, you’re in good company.
I think it’s safe to say that there’s a few of us, thinking we’re a bit crap, or feeling unsure about our abilities. If I had a dollar for every time I was told ‘but you seems so confident!’….. then I’d at least have a dollar.
It’s a tough gig, this insecurity shit. Always feeling you’re not quite good enough, or if you’re entrusted with something, you’ll mess it up. Worrying that you’re not being a good enough friend/partner/parent/worker/boss/human.
Seriously, what is with life? It gets busier, and faster, and more manic and faster and insane and did I mention faster?! I swear I only had my firstborn yesterday. For realz.
We have so much on the go nowadays, and it’s hard to keep the juggle up. We try to keep the house afloat, the kids alive, work chugging along, partners to remember (oh yeah, who are you again?), and somehow get that holy grail ‘me’ time cracking. If you get this all balanced, please come and be my guru and teach me the ways. Plllleeeeaaaasssse.
Friendships are funny things. We muddle our way through, bump into people and sometimes we just ‘click’, and a friendship is born. Others we cautiously dance around, sniffing the other out and a friendship grows over time. Some we’ve known since we were kids, and some we’ve met yesterday but feel like we’ve known them forever. Friends are da bomb. We tend to gravitate toward a few and class them as our close friends, while others are more run of the mill friends.
Sometimes though, we’re not the close friend. We’re the other friend. The friend that is great, but just not ‘the’ friend.
Ever felt like that?
It’s the feeling of being the back-up friend.
It’s totes a thing. Might not be in the clinical handbooks, but it happens. A lot. Google search that shit, you’ll see topic after topic of people feeling the same.
Are you prone to an eye twitch when you hear carols in the shopping centre?
Do you wake up feeling exhausted at the mere mention of ‘last minute shopping’?
Then you, my friend, are suffering from what those in the biz term ‘chroverwhelm’. Well, I’m not sure who those in the biz are, nor that the term is actually legit, but it sounds like it should be a thing.
It’ll be a formal diagnosis in the next decade. I’m sure of it.
I often get a lot of peeps asking about medication. Is it ok? Is it a one way ticket to messing me up? Do they even work? Meds can seem quite daunting and scary. And loaded with stigma.
I have to start this off by saying I’m not a medical doctor, and I never go advising clients on medication. Always go and see your medical professional for that stuff. Buuut, meds and psych are closely related, we’re trained in understanding meds and what they do to you, and why they might be used etc. We just don’t prescribe them.
With Mark Latham being a general douche in the media last year (well, a general douche any year really these days. Let’s not get picky here), talking about taking medication equating to being ‘weak’, people get all cagey and embarrassed to discuss these kind of things. Like how cold sores are a form of herpes, medication for mental health is the ‘seedy underbelly’ that no one wants to talk about, or admit they’re dealing with. Like we talked about with PND, if you had a nasty infection, would you just hide away and hope it disappears? No! You’d be up at the doctors asking for help, and taking antibiotics etc. Well our mental health should be no different.
It’s a funny feeling, isn’t it? We feel yuck when we experience guilt, yet often we keep going back again and again to that familiar old sting. Are we masochists? Why do we do it to ourselves? And then when there’s kids involved, guilt skyrockets in all ways. Inadvertently we can pass it onto our kids and then they too get in the guilt cycle.
Time and time again we are told ‘get rid of the guilt’, ‘guilt is a useless emotion’ and for the most part it is, but what if we need guilt? What if it’s not the evil enemy we’re told that it is?
What even is guilt? It’s often seen as an emotion that crops up when we either feel like we’ve done something we shouldn’t have, or we didn’t do something we think we should have.
Guilt can be useful sometimes. It can alert us to something a bit deeper within ourselves that we’re not happy with. Maybe we snapped at our cherubs in the rush to get them off to school, when it was really the shitty traffic that made us run late (*cough* thatmighthavebeenmethismorning *cough*), maybe we forgot to send that important email, maybe we scoffed that last chocolate down. It’s not guilt that’s the issue here, but rather dissatisfaction in the way we’ve handled something- could be anxiety operating at the core, could be self-esteem, could be almost anything. But guilt is what alerts us to something not being right. It’s that discomfort we need so that we can reassess and make a change.
Guilt can be shit too. That’s when it becomes shame. Shame is that more internalised, personalised crud- where we think we’re bad for doing something, rather than just feeling cruddy for doing or not doing something. Shame can colour our everything, and if we leave it to grow, it can transform into even ickier things like anxiety, depression and other difficulties.
The difference here is function. Guilt often jumps us into action, whereas shame halts our process. It gets us stuck. So we need to stop bagging guilt out, and instead label the healthy stuff guilt, and the unhealthy stuff shame. Makes the world of difference when you’re grappling with the ick.
If you’re feeling guilty about something, don’t beat yourself up about it. You know that the ick feeling is an indicator that something has to change, so review what it is that you want to do/ don’t want to do and then make plans to rectify it. That’s it. Talk it over, allow yourself to feel ick for 13.45 minutes and then take action. The longer you hold onto guilt, the less useful it is and the more it turns into shame. Ain’t nobody got time for that shit.
Are you a guilt hoarder? Or are you all up in that ‘let it go’ zen mode?
We all have it in life sometimes, don’t we? An idea, a plan, something that we hope for, and we try to attain it. Sometimes things get thrown in our path though that might get in the way. And sometimes those things seem so big that we wonder if we can even continue on the path.
With the little setbacks, we move past it, look back and wonder why we stressed so hard over it. But then you get those big giant setbacks, and they can rattle us.
Sometimes they have us questioning the universe, and they feel like we’re stopped in our tracks. However, they don’t have to stop us in our tracks.
I’m in the thick of newborn life again. And while I am LOVING being at home (I’d love to say not being at work, but I’m still doing two of my three jobs from home. Yes, yes I am insane), I do find these early weeks of newborn life are a bit like Groundhog Day. Same shit, different day. Get up, feed (well in our case, attempt to feed. The only time this kid cries is when he sees a boob coming at his face. The only boy on Earth to not want to be near boobs. I get they’re a bit used buddy, but shit, at least be polite and humour me), deal with bodily excretions, make goofball faces and get deadpan looks in return, play on the playmat (that’s me, he just sits there staring at me like I’m a dick), rush around madly doing the washing, cooking, cleaning and other kid wrangling while the baby is asleep. Rinse and repeat.