Joshua is walking now.
He understands some of what he's being told, and knows how to reciprocate. (Eg that time I was sick and he knew exactly what to do to 'take care of me' and 'make me feel better', which, until today I'd tell everyone who would listen how surprised I was that he knew exactly what to do! 🥰)
He returns hugs and kisses. Though sometimes, reluctantly. 😆
He's slowly getting better at playing by himself so I can at least brush my teeth in the mornings now (I KNOW, RIGHT??), and I can wash the dishes while he occupies himself in the living room for a while.
It's a bit easier now to be alone with him.
I still love him the same way; with all my heart and soul, and all that I am. That has not and never will change.
.....
But I feel I've lost my identity.
15 months of 'Krystle' taking the back burner while every single thing/decision I make is based on being a 'mum'.
You know how much I love reading.
And yet I've not touched a book in 15 months. Simply because again, that's taken the back burner. My free time is used how any 'new' mother would: resting.
I may have my in-laws - all of whom are AMAZING, by the way - but I am alone here. My family & friends are back in Malaysia. We keep in regular contact, but that doesn't beat physical contact does it?
I'm at home alone with Joshua, at least 5 days a week, for at least 9 hours each day.
It's gotten to the point where I'm starting to feel rather spiteful (for lack of better word) that hubs can do whatever he wants, most of the time without having to worry about bubs as he knows I'll be there. Duh, what else am I gonna do since I can't drive here?
Meanwhile, me on the other hand, every decision I make has to be at bub's discretion. I can't just make decisions without asking hubs either as he might have something already planned (not like going out; more like household DIYs).
It's like I'm still me, yet I'm not. I've become somewhat reduced to having to almost ask for permission for every activity I want to do.
Hubs has offered to send me to town so I'll get a few hours to myself and do things. And I appreciate and relish in that. BUT... to do things, I need money. I can't just walk around town just looking at stuff.
But I'm not working, so I'll run out of money.
Which brings me to my next point:
Working. We both can't afford to work as childcare is expensive. Even if we did both work and left Joshua at a child-minder, I would feel like a horrible mother for leaving him to someone else and not spending time/bond with bubs.
Mom's guilt eh. 🙄🤦🏻♀️
But 15 months of not being 'me', a minimum amount of socializing (though I'm an ambivert, I tend to lean a bit more towards an introvert), and 2 years of not seeing my family, it's taken a huge toll on my mental health.
This past week, I've been feeling down. I've been crying, then feeling better, then back to crying again.
Say, one day I may feel down and depressed. But then after a night's rest, I may feel better, and feel that the previous day's worries were petty and that maybe my hormones played a part (I am on my period after all 🤷🏻♀️). But then later that day, some small (and maybe even insignificant) event might happen, and I'll be back to feeling depressed again.
I honestly don't know how much more I can take. Mentally, I mean.
That's part of the reason why I'm writing this now; because in my time of need, I remembered how theurapeutic blogging was for me. I never blogged much anymore either, not because I've lost interest, but because again, I had other things to prioritize.
But tonight, I needed it. I'd just spent about half an hour in the toilet earlier, crying. I needed to get it off my chest, and blogging is the best way I know how.
Maybe I should start blogging regularly again, even if it's just a short post.
It's good to be back, old friend.
, click here →
