I had my first child in 2011. I had a straightforward pregnancy and labour and couldn't wait to be a mum. However from the moment my daughter was born I felt different. I was hit with overwhelming anxiety and a fear something bad would happen to her. I couldn't sleep. I was convinced if I slept my precious baby would stop breathing. Between the two hourly feeds when she would sleep I would stay up watching her breathing. By day three I was so exhausted I was hallucinating – I was convinced it was snowing in the bedroom.
It’s Time to Talk Day and World Cancer Day today, which is doubly significant for me.
A few years ago, in my final year of uni, I was diagnosed with stage 1 testicular cancer. Treatment was relatively simple: I had the offending article removed, and a bout of chemo, all in all a short but highly unpleasant treatment before I was declared cancer free. But the effects on my mental health would last a lot longer.
Suicide still carries an enormous stigma for not only those who survive suicide attempts but for the families of those who have taken their own life. My mother took her own life when I was five years old; she left behind a husband and two daughters. I remember my dad telling me that mummy had gone to sleep and that she hadn’t woken up. As I got older I couldn’t understand why no one spoke of her death or why friends and family rarely spoke of her.
Back in the summer I blogged about how my sister’s suicide affected my own mental health and the way I was able to manage my bipolar disorder. I talked about how the shock devastated our family and her many friends - any of whom would have helped had they known about the battle she was fighting. In the days afterwards you go through a whole range of emotions, trying to make sense of the situation:
