What about me?

                                    

                                          
I know, I know, this chapter sounds a bit whiny and a little woe me. It is, but hear me out; it's for a good reason. When I became a mother, everything I did, I did for my tiny human. Every minute of every day, I could only think about looking after my little infant. I went three weeks without washing my hair. I had the world's fastest showers. I didn't have time to shave my legs or pluck my eyebrows.  I was so tired those first few months. I was surviving on very little sleep, and I resembled the creature from the black lagoon. I had no rest bite. No, me time. That wasn't good. Not suitable for my physical health, mental health, or my well-being. So I decided that I needed to start looking after myself. I had been diagnosed with Postnatal depression. In the last few years, its become a topic of mainstream conversation on a famous morning show, This morning and even a segment on the topical show Loose women.  From personal experience, I knew PND wasn't something that you pushed to the side and hoped it got better or went away.
My mother had severe PND; she had my brother and me eighteen months apart. She had PND with me but was never diagnosed, but once my brother was born, it got worse and untreated for so long. In the '80s, it wasn't discussed. Depression was seen as not an actual illness; it wasn't taken seriously. It got horrible for my mother. She ended up walking out and leaving my brother and me with our father. It broke my father's heart. But he didn't have time to wallow. He had two kids under five to raise. I adore my dad, and I'm so proud of him; he never complained, never raised his voice, and he held down three jobs to make sure we had food in our stomachs, clothes on our backs and a roof over our heads. He kept us warm, safe and healthy. We weren't rich, but we had each other.
I never knew my mother. We didn't meet her till ten-twelve years ago. I can understand that my mother wasn't in her right mind; I can even try to understand why she left. But I can't condone it. No matter how bad my PND got or how my mental health deteriorated, I could never imagine going with my child. I could never be apart from him. I love him so much that it hurts. I could never do what my mother did. I have so much respect for my dad. It was far from easy for him, and he raised us the best he could. We had a decent education, we developed a work ethic, and we had all the love we needed from my dad and his family. My mother's family didn't want anything to do with us. by that, I mean our grandparents didn't. If they saw us in the street with My dad, they crossed the road to avoid us. We never felt we were missing out, as we had all the family we needed. We had our Aunts, Uncles and cousins on my mother's side.  This is not meant to sound like I'm feeling sorry for myself because I'm not. I am who I am today because of the trials and tribulations I've been through. 
 I was prescribed antidepressants. I didn't want to be on them forever. I had to find a way to help clear the fog. I was and still am on medication. I'm on it for life because of my thyroid or the lack of one. So I didn't want to be on more medication. I started to google, looking on Pinterest. I tried to find something to calm, relax and clear the fog. I tried yoga; I'm not very flexible or much of a zen person. So turning myself into a human pretzel wasn't the way forward. I tried being out in nature, but I wouldn't say I liked it, the number of times I swallowed bugs and flies. I tried meditating, but I just fell asleep. That's when I stumbled upon AMSR (autonomous meridian sensory response) a few years before. I love AMSR; it relaxes me before I go to sleep. I can put my earphones in, get snuggled down under the duvet, let the tingles wash over me and sleep peacefully. I couldn't do that all day, every day. I'm a creative person. I like to make things. I want to use my hands and make art. I love to knit, cross stitch, colour and draw. I needed to feel like me again. I had piled the weight on during pregnancy ( my fault, I took the eating for two very seriously). I was the biggest I had ever been. I hated how I looked.  I decided to join slimming world. It worked for a while, and I lost a little weight, but I stalled. I found a love of make-up. I loved nothing more than watching youtube make-up tutorials, following along the best I could, and trying new things. Even now, I still love watching them. I also got into true crime on youtube. Anything about serial killers, unsolved murders or mysterious circumstances. I was all in! I was hooked. Make-up became my passion for a while. It's what I used to get a bit of me back. I got pretty good at it; I eventually stopped sticking my eyelids together with lash adhesive or using the wrong shade of foundation! I'm kidding; I've never done that! Even back in the 90s, when you used a trowel to apply Maybelline dream matt mousse, that was three shades darker than your skin tone. No matter what you did, you still looked like an umpa lumpa. I wasn't a make-up guru good, but typically good.  
 I was searching for something that was just for me. That I could be Emma, not mummy or wife, it's taken me a long time to find myself. It's taken me till Ro started school. I found myself at a loose end, with him being away most of the day. I got more hours at work; I joined a gym. I've started to feel good about myself. I love seeing the change in my body; I am invested in getting myself more robust. I want to gain muscle. I want to look incredible on holiday. I want Adam to be wowed.  I've stopped drinking. I haven't had alcohol since the beginning of December 2022. I'm too old for hangovers. Plus, the anxiety and self-doubt the next day is a killer. I hated waking up with a headache and checking my phone to see if I had managed to ruin my life with any social media posts or text messages. If I'm in a bit of a mood, drinking amplifies it. I'll be honest; I'm a fucking liability. I went all through Christmas and new year without a single drop. I even went through my birthday without. The no-secco is delicious. I'm determined. I'm doing well.
By working out and cutting alcohol from my life, I've started manifesting and doing positive affirmations. I have been studying the law of attraction. Some may say it's bollacks. I am, But I feel more positive by putting positivity out into the universe, settled and happy. You fake it until you make it kind of thing. I refuse to be negative; that can be very difficult. I have to pause before I think something negative. I refuse to believe that I can't have everything I have ever wanted or dreamed of. While dealing with the mum's guilt, I try to get pampered every month. But it's become basic upkeep now. Brows waxed and tinted, full leg wax, Hollywood bikini wx, acrylic nails and hybrid lashes. Every three months or so, I have botox, and once a year, I have lip filler. That is a lot when I look at it on paper; I feel more confident when I have all this. It's like my shield against the outside world.
I know many people will disagree with botox and filler. It's each to their own; if we were all the same, the world would be boring. Im not apologising, glorifying or advocating. It's just something I like to do. Adam isn't a fan of the filler. He never says anything negative to me about it. He knows better. I don't do it for him so that I couldn't give a toss. It makes me feel empowered. Besides, I refuse to grow old gracefully. I'm all for doing what makes you feel confident. It's also about finding a healthy balance between being a mummy/wife and being your own person. Every mum needs something. Even if it's putting your earphones in, turning up the early 00s R&B playlist on your phone, and dancing around your living room in your undies when the kids are in bed. It's great for mental health. How can you look after your family if you can't look after yourself? It's excellent to be a bit selfish. Sometimes you have to make yourself the priority. Instead of being down and thinking, what about me?