Mood Swings

I’m a bit up and down at the moment. I’m not sure why.

Some of it is just me I think. I’ve always blown a bit hot and cold and never been very good at concealing my emotions. If I’m happy you could probably solve the world’s energy crisis by running a power lead off my manic energy. But if I’m upset, or pissed off? Man alive, are you going to know about it. The Hadron Collider holds nothing like my potential for causing an accidental Universal Apocalypse. Most days I like this, it makes life more interesting. It makes ME more interesting.

But lately I seem to have been even more temperamental, with the emphasis on mental that is. And what’s frustrating me is that my ‘ups’ are being far overshadowed by my ‘downs’, with the down days triggered by more and more meaningless, pathetic incidents. An unkind word, perhaps not even meant for me but taken that way, can leave me wallowing for hours. I am more and more easily hurt, offended, sensitive and buffeted by the energy and comments of other people.

Is it the no sleep thing? Is the months of sleep deprivation finally making a dent in my mental health? Things are better, yes, but one good night is offset by about ten bad and I’m still managing on about 4-5 hours a night, 6-7 on a really good night.

Or is it the writing? More and more I’m finding I need to open myself emotionally, not only to find the right words to express what I’m trying to say, but to help me perceive the world in a way that is interesting, evocative and engaging. And by ‘opening’ myself to that process I fall in love with it, care about it, obsess about it in a way I’m not sure is always healthy and leaves me vulnerable to feeling deflated and low in confidence.

Or is it, (and I hate this excuse but it’s a valid one), hormones. Kai is breastfeeding less, my prolactin levels have probably dropped through the floor, and other hormones seem to be reinstating their influence as evidenced by the visit of an old friend this week who has been absent since I fell pregnant (yes, that was a euphemism, to spare my male readers some embarrassment).

What ever it is, I don’t like it. I feel out of balance and out of control.

Would love to hear if anyone else struggles with this problem (although you men folk are excused from the last point). How do you balance yourself emotionally? What keeps you feeling sane?

I have confidence in… erm… something?

Picture if you will.

I am sat here in my jeans and over-sized sweater and my messy boy hair, wearing novelty socks and eating too many chocolate digestives. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. Unlike most mornings, today I did manage a whole fifteen minutes under a hot shower while Kai emptied the bathroom rubbish bin of tissues (don’t judge me – I’m strengthening his immune system), but absorbed in my hot-shower bliss I may have absent mindedly shampooed three times and conditioned twice so the messy boy hair is slightly lank. The over-sized sweater despite being clean on this morning already has some banana on one sleeve and what I think may be snot on the other. In the last 24 hours I have burst into tears a record number of five times and kicked two inanimate objects. I have had four hours sleep.

There are many things this scene screams. Confident, secure, fully-functioning grown-up is not one of them.

I have been struggling especially with the C word lately. No, not THAT C word. Confidence.

You see I seem to have mislaid mine. It’s not down the back of the sofa with the half-eaten rice cake. It’s not in the overflowing washing basket (hell it wouldn’t fit in there). It is not hidden behind the pile of clever books I can’t bring myself to read.

In fact, I don’t know where the frick it is. I haven’t seen it in quite a while.

More and more I envy those people who seem to ooze it from every perfect blemish-free pore. Those people that manage to combine motherhood with work and successful careers, with exciting projects coming out of their every orifice . Managing to fit deadlines around school runs, gym sessions and skin care regimes.

It’s like they are privy to a secret I have no idea about, passed about in hushed whispers while I was in the loo.

Around you – yes you accomplished people, I am left feeling so ineffective. So immature.

Why do I feel like this? Where on earth was I when the confidence ticket was handed out? (in the loo again probably – really should have worked harder on my pelvic floor).

I am 27. But I look kind of young for my age. I have a tendency to get written off by people, spoken to by strangers with that unique mix of patronising sympathy and instant dismissal. Old ladies can never believe it when I mention a husband, “but my, you’re too young to be married surely?!” and act surprised when I manage to come out with a vaguely intelligent or articulate comment. I always get asked for ID – once when I was buying PETROL which was more than insulting (surely I look older than 17? Don’t I??!!) My brother is two and half years younger then me and I look like his scruffy kid sister.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m sure when I’m 40 I will be grateful of this fact but right now it’s not really helping in the confidence department.

Social situations? Oh god where do I start. The stuttering? The complete brain freezes that make me incapable of speech? The completely irrational habit of coming away from all social encounters feeling dreadfully insecure and convinced I am the most scorned and despised person on the face of this planet?? I’ll stop there.

And then there’s work. Or ‘work’ as it should probably be referred to. Finding your way as a fledgling writer is not easy I can tell you. One of my opening exercises with my writing course was to free-write about your doubts about becoming a successful writer. I wrote six pages without even blinking. The thought of me ‘making it’ seems laughable. Successful writing seems to require a breeziness and articulate confidence that I can only imagine.

(Oh god. This is turning into a whiney post isn’t it. I apologise – there is a point I promise.)

It’s just I’ve been wondering what it is I’m missing? The right hair cut? The right clothes? The right pen? An ability to speak in whole sentences?

It’s easy to feel like those things would make all the difference but somehow I doubt it.

It’s also easy to feel like I’m the only one in the world left feeling so small, so insignificant.

But I’m not. I know I’m not.

I casually mention on Twitter about feeling like this and all of sudden I’m met with dozens of responses. All from women who say they feel the same. Many of them successful, accomplished women whom I admire.

And I’m left wondering… maybe the idea of a mysterious, innate secret to confidence is a misnomer? Perhaps, actually, none of us are the secure, confident people we imagine each other to be.

Maybe it’s not about FINDING confidence at all but actually just about FAKING it? And some people are just much better fakers than others?

So do you know what? That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to give up trying to find it and settle for faking it instead.

And we’ll see what happens.

Now where’s that guitar case? I need to go swing it round on a mountain top.

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Taking a bit of a breather from the Sleep Carnival today – but do keep your submissions coming in, especially if you want to get your hands on the prize of all prizes which still seems to be causing a ridiculous amount of hysteria (not that I can blame you).

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