Where to even begin. We’ve been in that long I’m not sure which week it is maybe 8 or 9. I’ve not updated much lately as to be quite honest I’m exhausted – mentally, physically, emotionally. There’s not much left to give.
This isn’t a blog to gain sympathy because be in no doubt my struggles are multiplied ten fold for Reilly. He may not be worry what the latest Covid-19 stats are but he is fuelled by gut wrenching anxiety every single day. An anxiety that will see him self harm in numerous different ways to attempt to control it and my heart breaks for him.
This morning I buckled under pressure and cried. Not done it in ages. Weeks of sleep deprivation and stress have taken their toll. Any support I had to make daily life manageable gone in a heartbeat. 24/7 hypervigilance in its place.
Initially the break from his normal school life was a welcome one for Reilly once he was over his illness. Seeing no school on his calendar for weeks ahead is probably like seeing Christmas everyday for him. He became more relaxed and more vocal. As we skip forward a few weeks I see a different little boy and I’m at a loss how to help him.
I feel like I’m on a hamster wheel, a road to nowhere, sinking ship or any other example you’d like to throw in there. My OCD is raging. Everything we are taught about OCD tells us to challenge the fear. If it’s germs touch it, if it’s heights climb it and so on. To be in such worrying times when those practices aren’t practical it becomes very difficult to handle.
My six week long headache is now normality and it takes everything in me to muster the energy to go round in the eternal circles of destruction in my home daily. Destruction to me, probably artwork to Reilly with his impromptu painting of anything, fort building, recycling chaos that he thrives on.
We’ve managed one beach trip and he signed home the whole time. He’s happiest scratting about in our recycle bins. Once the door is locked for the night he creates piles for the next morning emptying bottles, packets, removing labels from tins and places them at the front door. I’ve seen him on many occasions searching for keys at 3am to move the bin an inch to the right after watching it out the window and growing more anxious.
I turn my washer on, he turns it off . Is it the noise? Who knows. But I feel like I am achieving nothing but that’s not right I’m achieving far more than I realise. As parents we are going beyond anything we thought we could achieve. There’s no bike rides, picnics, sleeping, movie nights, art classes, puppet making for us. Just survival one day to the next and it’s hard!
I had my wobble this morning. I messaged the girls and said you know what I’m not ok. That in itself is a huge step instead of we’re fine, it’s fine and in return I received support and reminders that I can do this.
I miss Alex still living at his Dads and let’s not forget another teen here who has also been isolated for as many weeks with no respite from any of us which can often be harder work than any of the above.
Difficult times for the kids and us. Try not to judge us we need all the help and support we can get ❤️