For anyone who is struggling with depression at the moment, keep this one thought in your mind: Your life matters. No matter what thoughts are crowding into your mind, please speak back at them that your family does need you and their lives would not be betterwithout you.
If you’ve ever had thoughts that your family doesn’t need you, or would be better off without you, picture yourself being away overseas. Imagine how eager your children would be to talk to you. Imagine how excited they would be to see you when you arrive home. For a child, nothing can take the place of a mother.
Working for an international aid organisation, I often travel to developing countries twice a year. Thankfully, with Skype and Whats App I can see and talk to my kids, even from a rural village in Nepal.
Being away from them for so long, people ask me how they’re coping. I’ve got an incredibly supportive and capable husband and so the answer is usually just fine. Truth be told, without me there my children continue to live their lives. They’re busy with school, soccer, church… and the days fly bye.
But even though they’re physically ok – they still miss me and look forward to me coming home. Although others can meet their needs, they need their mum. Just like I need my mum.
Ignore the lie in your mind that they would be fine – maybe even better off – without you. If it helps, scream “get out of my head you horrible lies!”
Nothing can take the place of you. You are unique. One of a kind.
Do whatever you can to get help when you need it. You and your children need each other.
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Successfully completing my first ever 5km charity run (3rd from right)
Do you ever get to the end of a day and feel like motherhood is a race? I must admit that I do. And it’s not a quick 100 meter sprint – over before you realise. It’s one of those long marathons… that can be both something we always dream of doing and something that’s totally overwhelming and beyond us.
I’m not a runner, by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve watched as friends have trained for a half-marathon. And I’ve noticed something that all of them have done – TRAIN.
Unlike a 5km fun run – which even I managed to do (once – see proof in the picture above!) with minimal training – you can’t front up and just run a marathon.
You need to have a plan for how you’re going to mentally and physically tackle the race. You need to put in weeks and weeks of training. And you need a support crew around you – not only cheering you on but also being there with snacks and water.
Watching a close friend prepare for an upcoming half-marathon got me thinking. If more of us approached motherhood like a marathon, we’d probably enter into it a lot more prepared.
For those of us with a mental illness, fronting up to motherhood without having put in the necessary preparation is as unwise as expecting to run 25 or 50km without conditioning your body.
So here it is, my three tips for training for the “marathon” of motherhood:
Have a plan
Your pregnancy, birth and first few months of your baby’s life may not be a trigger for a relapse of your Bipolar Disorder. But research shows that this is an incredibly vulnerable time for women like us. Make sure you tell your obstetrician and hospital about your condition – and make time to write Bipolar Disorder Action Plan with your psychologist or psychiatrist. This will help you and your family to know what steps to take if you become unwell – and what the plans are to ensure your wishes for the care of you, your baby (and any other children) and home are, where possible, respected.
Get in some training
Haven’t had much to do with babies or children? Now is the time to get as much hands-on experience as possible. Offer to babysit your nieces and nephews, or hang out with a friend who has had a baby. Talk to friends and family about the day-to-day reality of being a mum – ask for the “warts and all” version, not the “Hollywood” show reel.
You want to feel as confident as possible when embarking on the marathon of motherhood. Already a mum and feel unsure about your parenting skills? Enrol in a parenting course – or ask your GP or local council if they can recommend a support group. Don’t leave it until you’re at crisis point to ask for help. You wouldn’t expect yourself to run a marathon with no training, so don’t expect yourself to throw yourself into motherhood without giving yourself the same courtesy.
Gather a support crew
Motherhood is one of the most amazing things you’ll ever do. But it’s also one of the most draining, frustrating and – at times – tiring things too. The saying “it takes a village to raise a child” is so true. It’s important to have people you can rely on to help if needed. Whether this is a supportive partner, family, friends or a church, you need to know that someone is there for you as a mum. It’s important that there’s a handful of people in your support crew know what your key triggers are, what symptoms to look out for and what action to take if you become unwell. They also need to know what’s in your Bipolar Action Plan – and how they can support you if you become unwell.
Motherhood isn’t a short sprint – it’s a marathon. Whether you have Bipolar Disorder or not, it makes sense to get yourself as prepared as possible. That way, you can embark on your motherhood journey feeling confident in yourself and your ability to juggle both motherhood and your own health and well-being.
Mariska xx
PS. Do you have any tips to share with women with Bipolar Disorder who are preparing for motherhood?
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With an impending restructure at work, my days have been a bit more stress-filled than usual. My team of six has been reduced for now to a team of three – and we’re doing our best to keep things going despite the sense of doom and gloom about the place.
In the midst of all this turmoil, staff have been dropping like flies… with record numbers of sick days. As for me, who rarely gets sick enough to justify a day off work, I’ve been day-dreaming about taking a “sick day” to just, well… decompress.
Spending a day battling the flu wasn’t quite the “sick day” I’d been hoping for.
In my mind, I imagined I’d time my “sick day” for when the kids were at school/kinder so that I could sleep in ’till 10am and then go out for a brunch with my husband (who is currently studying at home).
I then planned to dig out one of my craft projects – which have been ignored for the past 2.5 years since I went back to full-time work. And I’d end the day by picking up my kids (who would be surprised to see Mum rather than Dad waiting outside their classroom) and then welcoming them home to home-cooked cookies.
My work has an official name for days like this. I know it’s “technically” fine to take a mental health day, but I don’t know about you – I still struggle with the idea of taking a day off when I don’t physically appear sick.
Go to work with a hacking cough or a dripping nose and people encourage you to go home and rest up. But arrive at work crippled with anxiety, depression or stress and no-one is any the wiser. It’s easier to hide feelings of despair, depression and hopelessness than a fever. I worked through months of acute depression – and no-one at work noticed, until I made a point of telling them about the struggle I was having.
Not that I advocate hiding your mental illness from your employer. I have let my manager know about my condition – and I’d like to think my employees feel comfortable enough to share with me. Yet, I’m well aware that just telling your staff that they’re technically allowed to take time off to deal with mental health issues doesn’t make it easy to actually do it. We need senior staff to model that it’s actually ok.
Today, I finally got my sick day.
Only problem was, it really was a sick day. And it struck on a Saturday morning. Sure I got to spend the morning in bed…. but that was where I stayed for most of the weekend. And as for a leisurely lunch with my husband – well let’s just say that I wasn’t feeling up for any kind of date. Instead of feeling free to enjoy a Monday off work… I found myself dealing with 1000’s of tissues and an aching body that didn’t want to do anything but lie down.
Moaning that “this isn’t what a sick day is meant to be like…” my husband kindly pointed out what I was after wasn’t a “sick day” but a “sickie”. Hmm… I’d better be careful what I wish for next time.
Mariska xx
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Tonight I decided to introduce my kids to a movie classic – ET. I had vague memories of a very cute Drew Barrymore playing with the Extra Terrestrial and thought my space-Leggo mad kids would love the movie too.
Less than 10 minutes into the movie, all three kids were hiding under the quilt… terrified by the sight of the weird, bald little alien. I kept reassuring them it would get better, but when ET seemingly died 45 minutes later and all three kids had tears rolling down their faces, I was kicking myself for my choice of movie.
Who knew the lessons ET can teach?
At the end, my eight year old turned off the TV, turned to me and said: “Mum, you’re banned from making us watch any more movie ‘classics’ made before 2007! I’m never watching that movie ever ever again!”
His strong words reminded me of some I’d spoken myself eight years ago after his birth, when I had gone through an awful experience in a public hospital’s psychiatric ward. I swore never to go back to that place – and for a long time I couldn’t even drive past it without feeling physically sick.
And yet, things change. Things that seem scary somehow suddenly no longer hold the same fear. As the years tick by, the anger and fear are still there – but somehow less vivid. And the bitterness begins to fade.
Two days ago, I walked back through the doors of that psychiatric ward. This time, I didn’t arrive in the back of a police divvy van. I wasn’t held down by police and injected with tranquilizers. I wasn’t leaving behind my precious week-old baby. And I wasn’t declared mentally insane and kept behind locked doors.
This time, I drove to the hospital on my lunch-break and walked through the front doors by choice. I put one foot in front of the of the other until I arrived at the reception desk. I took a few deep breaths, smoothed down my jacket and tried to look as sane as possible as I asked for the Head of Nursing, who had promised to take me on a tour.
My husband couldn’t quite understand why I went back. He said nothing could force him back there. And I understood why.
The best way I can explain my need to go back there is that I wanted to face the thing that frightened me most. I’m not a brave person normally (to be honest I found some scenes in ET a little scary myself). But I wanted to see if visiting that psychiatric ward all these years later would help me see things differently.
As a mum, I help my kids to face their fears. I talk them through it… trying to show them that what they’re most scared of (in this case, being attacked by a alien on the TV) is actually not all that scary.
I thought it was time to listen to my own mum-advice for once.
Mariska xx
Stay tuned for my next post – seeing if psychiatric wards have changed in the past eight years.
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I like op-shopping. There’s nothing like walking into an opportunity shop, with a purse filled with coins, and walking out with some amazing recycled finds.
At the moment, my favourite winter jacket, scarf and leather boots are all from op-shops and cost a total of AUS$18. The boots are a brand I really like and had never been worn, the jacket is a stunning blue wool and just looking at the gorgeous orange striped scarf makes me feel happy.
Me rocking my op-shop jacket and scarf!
I’ve written before about how much I love taking something set for the rubbish dump and turning it into something beautiful and useful. One of my favourite rescued pieces is the white buffet, sitting in my family room.
The last time I was in an op-shop, I came across a pile of old sheet music. Something about the beautiful old music, printed in the 1920’s and carefully wrapped in brown paper, caught my eye and I couldn’t leave without buying it. I had no idea what I would do with it – my piano playing skills are a little too rusty for such complicated pieces – but I knew that I couldn’t leave it behind.
Today I woke up to the sound of rain. Being Saturday, I was looking forward to spending some time with the kids – and a crafting afternoon sounded just about right. While the kids made cards for friends, I pulled out some supplies and set about turning the sheet music into something special.
A few hours later, I had turned the unwanted music sheets into a couple of cute heart pictures (see below) and a bunch of unique cards for friends’ birthdays.
A new use for old sheet music
Hanging the pictures on my wall, I was struck again by how something that seemed old and not good for anything but the bin, was – a couple of hours later – something so beautiful.
Sometimes life can leave us feeling so down, that we start thinking we’re no longer of value to society. I know when I was sitting alone, locked in a psychiatric ward after the birth of my first baby, I started thinking that my life was pretty much over. The fear and loathing in the eyes of the ward staff affirmed this thought – that I was no longer an educated, articulate young woman respected by those around me… but someone who had to be kept heavily medicated and away from the rest of society.
At that time, I pretty much felt like those sheets of music, once highly-valued but now abandoned and destined for the bin. And yet, looking at the new pictures on my wall – made from the recycled music sheets – I was reminded of my own journey. Here I am, eight and a half years later, not only living with mental illness, but thriving.
Being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder at the age of 18 was a huge blow. And it’s something that I’ve had to learn to live with over the past 19 years. But it hasn’t meant the end of life as I knew it. I have still gone on to become a wife, a mother, an employee and a friend.
Like the sheet music transformed into something very different, my life may not look exactly like it used to – but it is beautiful in an equally special and valuable way.
My prayer is that everyone reading this who is going through hard times, will realise that while your life may not look quite like you had planned, it may well in the end turn out to be even better than you originally hoped. Don’t ever think that your life is not worth living. Don’t ever give up.
Mariska xx
Does anyone else love seeing the potential in things? Got any stories or photos of your favourite op-shop finds?
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When most people think of Australia, they picture golden beaches, blue skies and the Sydney Harbor Bridge. But for those Aussies like me who live at the southern end of the country – life is a lot more varied than that.
In Melbourne, down the bottom of Australia, we have four distinct seasons: Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring. We go from 40 + degrees Celsius in Summer all the way down to crisp four degree days in Winter. Weather tends to dominate a lot of our conversations – and most of the time we’re either complaining it’s too hot or too cold.
But would I swap our seasons for a life of constant warm days? Probably not.
Seasons give a nice rhythm to life… with plenty of positives to outweigh the negatives. Right now, we’re suffering through frosty Winter mornings and icy evenings. But I’m loving the freedom to get into my flannelette Pyjamas as soon as I get home from work. And I’m spending my evenings learning how to knit and crotchet while curled up in front of a good movie. There’s something about rainy days that seems to justify taking things a bit easy.
Watching my kids playing in piles of leaves with their cousin (below), I started thinking about how the seasons are a good metaphor for my moods.
Jumping in leaves with cousins…
Autumn
Autumn reminds me of anxiety and the first signs of depression. There’s a sense that – despite the lovely weather – there’s bleak times ahead. Like the leaves falling off the trees, there’s an impending feeling of gloom – like things are about to fall apart. I need to force myself to look around and see the beauty that’s still there… in the colour of the leaves, in the people who care for me.
Winter
Winter’s cold, dark, bleary days remind me of the dark pit of depression. No matter how hard you try to wish it into being, there’s a lack of sunshine – or joy – and you crave warmth and comfort. But like the bare branches – not dead but merely dormant – there is still life within me. I just need to get through this season.
Spring
Coming out of a depression, is a bit like defrosting after a long Winter. New buds appear on branches – just as tiny shoots of joy and hope start to appear in my life. I look around and notice life again – feeling for the first time in a long time that I want to spend time enjoying my friends and family. Happiness has crept up on me… bringing a smile to my face again and making me – like the trees around me – fruitful again.
Summer
Mania is hard to describe, but if I was to liken it to a season it would have to be the long, energetic, fun-filled days of Summer. Just like I’m often taken by surprise with a nasty sunburn while having fun on the beach, so to mania is something that creeps up… disguised by seemingly endless energy and ideas. And I end up needing protection and help to get through this season.
Living with mental illness, I’ve learnt that I need to be prepared for all seasons. I wouldn’t venture out into the blazing sun without a hat – or the snow without some gloves. So I can’t expect myself to face the ups and downs that come with bipolar without some form of protection – in my case, medication.
Coming to terms with this – and acknowledging it – frees me up to get on with living life. There will be ups, and there will be downs, but life will move on – and each season will soon pass.
Mariska xx
Do the seasons have an impact on your mental health? If so, what do you do about it? Would love to hear!
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I have something to admit…. I’m a nail-biter. I’ve got a stack of nail files in my bathroom cabinet that never get used.
My nails will no sooner start growing… then I watch a scary movie, or sit through a boring talk, and all that’s left of them is a jagged mess.
I was reminded about my poor nails this week at work, when I got chatting with a lovely colleague while making a cup of tea. Looking down, I couldn’t help but notice her lovely long, shiny pink nails wrapped around her tea cup.
Before I could stop myself, I found myself commenting on her beautiful nails – and asking what it took to keep them looking so stunning.
She enlightened me on the world of acrylic nails… and then told me something that suprised me.
Apparently – underneath the shiny exterior of her perfectly shaped pink nails – her real nails were thin and brittle. Years of applying acrylics had left them in a shocking condition. So bad in fact that she now had no choice but to continue forking out money each month for the acrylics.
You may be wondering what nails have to do with bipolar. Well, hang in there – I promise I have a point.
My nail revelation taught me something. You see, there’s times in life when we as mums can be like shiny pink acrylic nails.
We present with a happy face at school pick-up or work… looking, for all the world, like we are perfect mums with perfect lives. But underneath this ‘perfect’ exterior, we can be hiding our true selves: our pain, our brittleness, our troubles.
My challenge – to myself and to you – is to acknowledge that life isn’t always shiny and perfect. To know that life is much more like my poor nails… irregularly shaped, jagged and prone to being decimated during periods of stress.
It’s when we can show our true selves to each other, that we realise that noone has a perfect life. Nobody has everything together all of the time. Nobody’s life is without its own troubles.
We all have things that we struggle with – whether that be a mental illness like bipolar – or something else. We should feel free to be honest about what we are going through.
Who knows what’s going on beneath the shiny exterior of those around you?
Mariska xx
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Earlier this week I noticed a strange thing in my letterbox. An actual handwritten letter – from an unfamiliar address.
Expecting a Christmas card from one of the few friends who haven’t discarded this charming tradition for a digital greeting, I ripped open the envelope.
Inside was a short note and a newspaper clipping – from the step-mum of a girl I went to high school with 18 years ago. Strange huh?
But moments later tears pricked my eyes as I read her beautiful words – encouraging me to keep speaking up about mental illness. She also mentioned that I might be interested in a new children’s picture book she’d read about in the local paper: My Happy Sad Mummy.
I quickly read the book review and then jumped online to order our family a copy. For so long I’ve been searching for ways to explain my Bipolar Disorder to my young children in a way that’s easy for them to understand and doesn’t scare them.
Well, my copy of My Happy Sad Mummy arrived today and it’s fantastic. Using beautiful illustrations, it tells the story of a young girl living with a mother who experiences manic and depressive episodes.
The author, Michelle Vasiliu draws from her own experience of Bipolar Disorder, to portray the emotional rollercoaster of this illness, as a young child might perceive it.
Here’s four things I really love about this book:
1. It doesn’t mention the label ‘Bipolar Disorder’. I don’t fancy my chatty five year old talking about my diagnosis with kinder teachers, school friends and other random strangers in the supermarket check-out queue.
2. It emphasises the strong bond of love between the child and her mum. Despite having days when her mum struggles to get out of bed, or is caught up in manic activity, there’s no doubt in the child’s mind that her mum loves her.
3. It’s really engaging for young children. I’m planning on reading this story to my 3, 5 and 7 year old children every few months – gradually introducing the idea that they have a ‘Happy Sad Mummy’ too. My older children know I take “brain medicine” every day – this will be a nice way of explaining why I need to take it.
4. It’s an example of a Bipolar mum using a painful experience to help others. Michelle’s motivation for writing the story came about after she had experienced a crisis: being admitted to a psychiatric hospital in 2007. At the time, her children were three and six and Michelle wanted to alleviate their fears about what was happening. Now, she’s trying to help other mums who find themselves in the same situation.
If any of you are like me – and struggle to find the right words when talking to your children about your illness – why not check out this new book.
Mariska xx
Can you recommend any other picture books that can help mums to explain Bipolar Disorder to young children? Got any other tips for other ways to talk about this with children? Would love you to share them with us.
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With charming side-effects like weight gain and hair loss, it’s pretty tempting to stop taking my mood-stabilising medication. Each night, when I pop my pill out of its pack, something within me wants to rebel and throw it down the sink instead.
But I never do – for three small reasons. As I write this, they’re sleeping in their beds upstairs.
As a mum with young children, I don’t have the luxury of letting my Bipolar Disorder go unchecked. While I might quite enjoy the feeling of hypomania – with the surges in creativity and energy and reduced need for sleep – for me this can lead to an acute manic episode, causing heartache and worry for my family.
After experiencing numerous episodes of acute mania in my 20’s, staying on my medication and having a good relationship with my Psychiatrist means that I have avoided having an acute manic episode for over a decade.
The last time I was severely unwell was after the birth of my firstborn son – with days of insomnia following his birth culminating in me becoming seriously unwell. None of the midwives at my private maternity hospital knew what to do and sent me home.
My son was just six days old and cradled in his Daddy’s arms when l was led out of our house to a Police divvy van waiting outside – the unfortunate mode of transport to psychiatric hospitals for mentally unwell patients in Australia.
I worked hard to become well again after that traumatic episode and never want my now teenage son to witness his mum being taken to hospital again.
When my oldest son started primary school, during a very stressful time, I experienced acute depression for the first time. I would find myself crying uncontrollably in the car on the way home from work, only to sit staring at my plate unable to speak during our family dinner. Afterwards, instead of playing with the kids, I would curl up on my bed – while my husband spent hours patiently trying to talk me out of my anxiety.
Weekend were no longer a time for relaxation and fun. Instead, I would be lost in my own dark world – dreading the thought of leaving the house to go back to work on Monday. Finally, I realised that what was happening wasn’t normal and went to my Psychiatrist for help.
I share this experience because – for me – modern day medicine has been life changing.
My medication may cause me to raid the pantry at night and gain oodles of weight. It may have lowered my libido and even (one variety) caused my hair to fall out in handfuls.
But finding the right medication for me – and staying on it – has also enabled me to live a full, happy life with my family. It meant that I could confidently go on to have two more wonderful children, even after the trauma following my eldest son’s birth.
It has given me the ability to live out my calling, working in the international aid sector.
And – as my husband has just kindly pointed out to me – being stable on my medication has also meant that he and my family no longer have to tiptoe around my fluctuating moods, living in fear of another episode of depression or mania.
So when I hold that small yellow pill in the palm of my hand each night, I don’t throw it down the drain and hope for the best.
I take it as prescribed, in order to give my children and my family the best of me.
Mariska xx
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Glancing through Twitter the last couple of weeks, a little icon with ‘Zip It – donate your voice‘ written on it caught my eye. Spending my days as a fundraiser for World Vision, I’m always keen to check out what others are doing in the ever challenging quest to raise funds for charities.
Given the title, it shouldn’t have surprised me that a campaign challenging Australians to stay silent for 24 hours – was raising money for mental health charities.
So often people with a mental illness feel like we have to stay silent about what we are feeling. Fearful of the reaction of others, we force ourselves to “zip it”.
When workplace chatter turns to mental illness, we “zip it” – not wanting to open up about our condition lest people start to treat us differently.
When we’re feeling stressed, or anxious or like depression is starting to close in on us, we “zip it” – preferring to suffer in silence than to admit that we’re not coping as well as we’d like others to think we are. Sadly, keeping our lips sealed, and not talking about what is going on inside, often makes what we are experiencing ten times worse.
But we’re not the only ones who “zip it” when faced with mental illness.
When we do become unwell, our loved ones around us “zip it” – trying to cope alone rather than risk embarrassing us by letting others know of our condition. Often, their friends, colleagues or fellow church members have no idea of what they – or their acutely unwell husband, wife, mother, father, sister, brother or child – is going through.
Most psychiatric hospitals are daunting places for the mentally unwell – let alone visitors. Moving from the flower and helium balloon filled maternity ward to the high dependency unit of a nearby psychiatric hospital after becoming acutely unwell following the birth of my first baby, the lack of visitors or even ‘get well’ cards surprised me.
As someone who’s been forced to “Zip It” about my own condition on many occasions, I applaud the mental health charities of Australia for this great new campaign. Last time I checked, it had raised almost $58,000 for the following charity partners:
Some of you might ask why are we discussing a fundraising campaign on a blog for mums with Bipolar Disorder? Well, because while I (and I’m guessing many of you) are still forced to “Zip It” – it doesn’t have to be like this in the future.
With awareness and education comes understanding. If down the track any of my three children are diagnosed with a mental illness – I’d like to hope that attitudes will have changed so much by then that they won’t think twice about discussing it with their friends or workmates. That there will be no need to “Zip It”.
If you’ve heard of any other great fundraising campaigns for mental health charities, leave a comment below – I’m sure we’d all love to hear about them!
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bipolar mums 