Monday, January 13, 2014

Like a ray of light

So, it's a new year.

2013 went quite well, all things considered.   Once I squint my eyes and ignore the haze of my low mood, I can see that actually God moved a lot and I grew a lot.


  • Andrew's application to Ministry is coming along nicely.   
  • I'm developing some friendships with like-minded lovely people.
  • Adam is doing well at nursery and will be starting Primary School in 2014.   
  • Lydia isn't a baby anymore, but a funny feisty little girl.
  • I can see more opportunities coming my way with regards to potential work, and with things I do on a voluntary basis.

Overall I'm positive about the start of this new year.   The end of 2013 passed in a mix of Doctor's appointments about my mood, and in several visits to and from family and friends to celebrate Christmas/ New Year.

A week before Christmas I had a farcical consultation with my usually-lovely GP about my low mood.   He laughed, joked and dismissed me outright.   My initial feeling of worthlessness morphed into irritation then anger.  So on New Year's Eve I had another  appointment and told him that actually I was serious and wanted things to change.

As per the medical model he threw pills at me.   Two months worth, nonetheless, and off I was sent.   I took one of the pills that night and spent 24 hours vomiting, shaking, sweating, in tears.   A reaction to the meds that I probably didn't need.

Irony is: my low mood was caused by a bit of a fear I developed after having 8 months of hyperemesis, and from feeling trapped being in the house so much being a housewife.   And the 'cure' was a pill that made me vomit, and had me bedridden for a day.  Ha, ha, ha.

So the pills are now in the bin, and I've spoken to the GP on the phone and told him off for putting a scud on me.   I'm due to see him tomorrow, will have the kids with me, as Andrew is working, so I'm curious to see what he says.

What I'm going to say is to advise him to save the NHS some £ and keep the pills in the pharmacy.  I don't want them, I just want an out.   

But I think God's given me an out....

Andrew's course means we're going to be tight for household income, so the solution seems to be me working part-time and balancing it with Andrew's uni hours.   He gets more time with the kids, and I get to engage my brain outside the house.   

My pride about being a stay-at-home mum has taken a bit of a bash, but I'm coming round to the idea of sharing the load with Andrew and not claiming that I am the one who should/could do it all regarding house tasks and childcare.   (It's one in the eye for the patriarchy and a small "hurrah!" for equality.)

So we're moving on, into a new year, into a bit of a new era.

Bring it on!

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