Today a Health Visitor came round to see my one year old son and check his general progress. I suppose she was nice, but I found it hard to see that because in my opinion she was a bit tactless in some of her phrases, and also I just don’t like people in my house in general, especially people I don’t know. She made a few comments about my son being small and a bit slow at some things compared to ‘normal’ children, and that really got my back up. I felt like saying ‘no, my son isn’t slow or small compared to normal children, he’s that way compared to your stupid freaking textbook’. What is normal? The world is made up of people of all shapes and sizes! So what if he doesn’t walk yet? So what if apparently his head is measuring big in comparison to his body (at which point she said that no wonder he wasn’t walking because imagine trying to support a big head on such a small body). Maybe she was just very unaware of how to be tactful. I just thought it was blindingly obvious that you don’t say things like that to people.
And then she asked if I would come to a clinic at some point to get him weighed again. I felt really uncomfortable with that because of my anxiety, but I also didn’t want to tell her about my mental health issues because I was feeling defensive and it’s very private stuff. So I just said probably not because I don’t like going out much, to which she incredulously asked why. I didn’t respond, I don’t think she really expected a response anyway. But that little exchange got me even more riled with her. I know it’s completely unreasonable of me to expect her to be aware of anything about me and my struggles, I know she has no idea how much going out panics me, and I know she was just probably a lovely good-natured person who didn’t realise she’d offended me because I’m so highly strung. But still.
I feel guilty for being so negative about her. Again I will add the disclaimer that I’m sure she meant well and I overreacted. But if I can’t be honest here in my blog, where can I be? I needed to vent this. She made me feel inadequate as a mother. I know that just my insecurities talking. But it’s not a nice feeling.
Anyway. Life is hard with mental illness and I guess I need to accept that. It affects everything. I don’t think I’ll ever be free of it. I don’t hold out much hope for a brighter future. I feel so low at the moment and I don’t feel like it’s going to get better any time soon. I feel trapped in this broken body, this messed up mind. Imprisoned by myself.
Anxiety and depression distorts everything, it’s like a kaleidoscope. The world is a jumble of pain and terror and hopelessness. You lose your sense of self and rationality. It’s so unfair.