Sunday, 18 September 2011

The point of no return...

It has been six months since I started at Austral and I am now officially off probation.

I don't know whether to be relieved or amused that the boss didn't even realise I was on probation until I pointed it out to him at our last snooze-fest meeting. All the other managers/supervisors said they were aware of it (due to it being standard practice) but, as the probation goes both ways (ie. me giving them a trial too), they were hoping that if no-one mentioned it, I would be happy to stay. Nice to know I'm wanted.

I do enjoy the job and like (most) of the guys, but I am now at the stage of feeling settled, while at the same time feeling like I'm on auto-pilot ... and not just at work.

I have nothing but admiration for single mums who do all this on their own as well as all the other mums in similar situations to mine (hubby working away and working full-time themselves), but at the moment I'm not thinking about them. It's all about me people!

Auto-pilot is dangerous for me as it usually precedes a lower than usual depressive episode. The fact that I have resorted to my old organisational quirks to try and feel in control of my life is a bit of a concern too.

The boys think it's funny when Mum makes the clothes pegs match each other as well as the clothes they are pegged on.

And apparently it's hilarious when Mum makes sure that there are only white pegs on the clothes airer and a certain number per rung at that.

And then when she organises the pantry so everything is organised by type of goods and then size of box/container, they are almost in hysterics (until they are told that they now have to wash all the Tupperware containers they put back in the pantry empty!)

However, it's not so funny when Mum can't be bothered getting out the bed she has crawled into after work to make them dinner.

And it's not funny when there's no clothes to wear because they're all still sitting in the washing machine after being washed for the fifth time without being hung out.

And it's definitely not funny when Mum totally loses her shit and yells about every.little.thing (real or imagined) that should have been done but hasn't or hasn't been done right or hasn't even been thought of yet but why haven't they read my mind and done it without being asked.

Luckily, I am not as the stage of crawling into bed as soon as I get home or of yelling at them for anything and everything. I am aware of this particular slippery slope and am making more of a concerted effort to keep myself upright and moving forward; not downward.

I am not as terrified of showing people the 'real me'; the one that occasionally doesn't cope too well with the whole situation; the one who sometimes just wants everyone to just go away and leave me alone.

However, it is still hard to not feel alone and isolated; still hard to ask for help when you don't know what would help; still hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other even though you know people are depending on you; still hard to put on your game face and get out into the world.

I came to the realisation the other day that I am way more like my mother than I would like to be. Depression is hereditary after all. But hopefully my awareness of my own triggers and warning signs will ensure that they aren't too affected by my issues. Hopefully it will make them slightly more sympathetic to those who struggle with issues of their own (be they mental, physical or emotional).

Hopefully my boys will be OK.

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