mosbird

TS 2: Accused of bad parenting

Hi Mos, I need help.

Of course. What’s the matter?

I was attacked the other day for my inadequate handling of my child. I’ll just describe what happened because I don’t know what to think of it. Continue reading TS 2: Accused of bad parenting

Aucee o’ sea

I’ve always hated holidays. They turn your hard gained routine upside-down.
A few days in a frenzy, a whole day packing, a half day travelling, three days at the seaside, stressing about the children, a half day packing and half day returning home, a week with the homeless suitcases and out-of-the-system laundry.
No blogging but so much to say.

On the way home from the seaside, the children fastened in their seats, sleeping, my husband driving. The time to relax. Aucee calling. Can one have a minute in peace?

This time, intrusive thoughts came slowly. The four of us on a boat, nice and cosy on the sea. Then crash, we are in the water. My husband takes our son, I take our daughter on our backs. So far so good. Then, because it looked as though we would safely and calmly reach the shore, I needed to turn on my back so my daughter would be under water. Was the journey too uneventful or what?

I associate this OCD appearance with the heightened level of stress over the last days, the lack of control over everything, and a drop in stressors too of a sudden. This is my hypothesis. I need to experience a few more similar instances to be sure.

I’m not in the mood for a thorough analysis.

Homework, HW 1

I’ve procrastinated this a long time. 9 days. Just because it’s homework.

I need to write down the examples of my GI (guilt-induced) depression manifestations. Or something. I’ll do a list and brainstorm a few days more (day 9, 11):

When I (e.g.) write blog posts and neglect the care for my family (or rather when the circumstances are against me – when I don’t have time for both and pick the wrong choice). Why guilt? Because I should have my family as a priority, not my pursuits. But if I don’t follow pursuits, I might never do anything but taking care of my children. My husband has been always a second fiddle, which is a whole new chapter to tackle. The guilt of being selfish. Stealing time from others.
When I eat ice cream or other sweets. When I give them to my children. I know sugar is harmful, a drug. I know I feel bad when I indulge. I know I’m hurting my children with it. I know my daughter shouldn’t eat sugar at least for another year. We’ve decided upon no-sugar policy at home. And I undermine my husband’s efforts. He tries not to eat sweets. But I somehow ignore all this. And after I eat or give sweets, I feel guilty.
When I (not) do something that can have harmful consequences in the long run. E.g. not check my boy for ticks when he was through the bushes (ticks in our part of the world are high percent infected). Or not lowering my baby’s mattress when she could fall over the guardrail. Procrastinating those tasks for some days and feeling more and more guilty. At least until I drop the guilt and become resigned at myself.
When boasting of something and not finishing on time, then remembering it occasionally and feeling mild guilt. E.g. not organising the hall closet and having the stuff that was supposed to go in it all over the apartment. I don’t feel as guilty because everyone already knows I don’t finish tasks and if I didn’t do it isn’t life threatening.
When promising something (like buying sth. in a grocery or sending an important email) and then forgetting. It has to do with high standards, which I hold up to, or just being a perfectionist. I sort of diminished this type of guilt by not promising anyone anything. Not really a heroic solution, but hey, whatever helps.
I feel a bit guilty of not being a mother/wife/daughter-in-law/employee as I should. I probably should look into this self-conscious perfectionistic type of guilt. It’s just a feeling. What I should be vs. who I am. Because I probably don’t know who I am. I guess, my adolescence wasn’t as successful as it should (here we go again).

I think I covered the most of it – to recap:

me vs. others (the limits of one’s freedom, by both parties consensus);
doing harmful stuff, mostly indulging in sweets (could be some other addiction);
risking the health/lives of others (s.o. is dependent on me);
not following through my own plans;
promising but not delivering (not being the person I once was / want to be / think I am);
me vs. others (who I am vs. what I should be according to others, which I might not agree with).

I’m pleased with my homework. I should now take each item on the list and expand (analyse) it into its own post/therapy session.
Am I on the right track? I don’t know but must stick with the system I imagined.

Chaos and entropy – the enemies?

Entropy is the term describing the lack of order or predictability, a gradual decline into disorder.

An hour ago I was reading the newest post from James Clear which is all about entropy and “why life always seems to get more complicated”. Clear always writes concisely (and clear:)) so I won’t do a recap, you better read it yourselves. I’ll tell you how it relates to me, though. Continue reading Chaos and entropy – the enemies?

The flavours of my depression

Three days ago I posted my first therapy session, ‘The reasons why I get depressed‘. I wasn’t entirely satisfied with it, I couldn’t express properly. I was missing a proper word (oh, my dysnomia). I started writing that post in April, so I was missing the words for more than a month. It bothered me all this time.
But, looking on the bright side, I posted the article nonetheless, yippee! for me.

Today I remembered the word(s). Type, sort, form instead of reasons. I’m so relieved.

Also, I remembered another two forms, manifestations of my depression. This is why I’m doing another post rather than just editing the existing one. No, I’m covering the true cause. I’m doing it because the previous post has two likes on it, and it means I cannot touch it, at least not severely. (Where’s Jack to remind me I’ve yielded to vanity?!)

But I’ll be brief(er). Continue reading The flavours of my depression