A Precious Mind…
My eyes feel like a pair of burst grapes stuck with crap school glue on to either side of my face.
I say crap school glue because one of them does actually feel as if it may be about to start slipping down past my nose at a jaunty angle.
(And everybody knows School glue isn’t actually glue. It is of course, decades worth of toddler sweat and tears mixed with cotton balls and sparkle chips funneled in to a weird looking mini bottle. It is about as sticky as moist garden moss and holds the frustration potential of an embedded splinter in a jelly fish’s’ arse. If it can be ingested safely it isn’t glue. That’s my rule. THE ONLY good thing about school glue is the satisfaction you get peeling it off your hands twenty minutes later while pretending to be a zombie. Right?)
I am ‘I still have yesterdays make up mottled around my nose,’ exhausted, I stink of puke and as if that wasn’t bad enough, I have run out of clean pajama bottoms.
Last night I had the absolute pleasure of discovering that it is not only sneezing that makes me inadvertently wee, but also violent anxiety induced vomiting. (There is a party going on right here… a celebration to last though out the years….)
I am so attractive right now I can’t even tell you.
Picasso would totally want to draw me.
I am in abstract.
‘Oh babe’ the Irish one whispers in to the darkness as I hobble past the bed in the half light bent over and clutching my stomach ‘are you OK? Do you think this putrid and incredibly loud and dramatic puking will go on all night?’
I reach up from my stooped position near the wardrobe and flick at the light switch in defiance.
‘I need clean pajama bottoms again,’ I groan ‘so when your body turns against you in celebration of you releasing a book, by all means have a go at me for keeping you up all night- but for now, please be quiet..’ I feel like crying as I open the empty draw. ‘And no I hope it doesn’t go on all night. I have no clean Jimjams left!’
His head is now under a pillow ‘the light, the light, turn out the light!’
‘Irish One, I think I am actually dying here. I am having heart palpitations too! You do realise if I keel over, people will assume you have killed me. It would not end well for you. You are too pretty for prison.’
He sits up and swings his legs out of bed in defeat ‘Fine! You can have some of my clean bottoms and I will go and….FOR THE LOVE OF GOOD GOD!’ he bellows as he finally catches a glimpse of me from between heavy lids, his eyes immediately now flung wide open.
‘What!?!??’ I scream back, the anxiety and exhaustion making me even more jumpy ‘is it a ghost? IS IT A GHOST?’
He puts his hand on his heart.
‘No it’s you!! The freaking state of you. I don’t have my lenses in and you look like freaking Smeagol, here take these and get in bed, I will make you some mint tea.’
He passes me his gym pants and even though I am pretty sure they will be uncomfortable, I gratefully cover my modesty.
‘Who is Smeagol?’ I moan, climbing in to the foetal position on the bed ‘you scared me..’
‘Never you mind.’ He whispers kindly, going in for a kiss but then swiftly changing his mind and heading for the stairs.
I slept for around half an hour before heading back in to the bathroom.
And now here I am!
Lucky me, looking like an extra off the Walking dead, half way through the school run.
I hate anxiety.
This ‘Publishing a book’ experience is beautifully excruciating. Fantastically horrible. Scarily magnificent.
Don’t get me wrong, I was chuffed for the first 8 minutes after pressing publish that I had finally grown a pair and done it. But since then I have mostly been bloody terrified.
‘Mummy?’ comes the voice of innocence from the back of the car as I struggle to signal, mirror, and manoeuvre without mounting the curb and turning the house on the corner in to a drive thru family diner ‘What is it like being you?’
I smile to myself. Even in the depths of drama my son keeps me smiling.
Right now it is exhilarating and painful.
‘Well Addy’ I think to myself before replying ‘according to daddy, being me, looks something like this;’
Never too ill, my precious.
From the award winning blogger Mammywoo, pegged by The guardian as ‘the one to watch’ comes a new hilariously funny and deeply moving memoir about dealing with mental illness while still reeling from the Magic of Birth.
Lexy wanted to be the perfect mother, she wrote this down numerous times in her planner (ok she doesn’t own an actual planner, but the back of an unpaid bill still counts right?) Her journey through motherhood would be calm and serene. No dummies, no drama and she would most definitely slip back in to her pre- pregnancy wardrobe, immediately!
What could possibly go wrong?
From accidentally breastfeeding the dog to romantic laxatives, therapy and beyond, this is an honest, very real and sometimes quite disturbing tale of woe, set in the wilderness of what was meant to be a year spent relaxing, with a baby.
Now available to read across all platforms.
Barnes and noble, nook, kindle, and iBooks. It’ll be in print this week. iBooks is a dream come true. A dream come true. All hail apple formatting. Here is the link-
I Used to be Cool.. by Lexy Ellis
All Paperback and Kindle Proceeds are being paid to MIND. Mental health charity.