A few weeks ago I saved an article about Instagram from the Guardian’s website – Instagram is supposed to be friendly. So why is it making people so miserable?
It struck a chord because I was feeling uncomfortably aware of the disconnect between how my life looked on my Instagram account and how it really felt. I do live with my husband in a house I love, in the gorgeous Chew Valley. We have a healthly and happy one-year-old boy Oaklan and an energetic collie Dr Watson. That much is true.
I’m very aware of how lucky that makes me. Something the article misses out is how a collection of your favourite pictures, shared with people you love, can sometimes help create that sense of perspective during darker times.
But things haven’t been easy recently and I wanted to write something honest about that. After Oaklan was born I thought I had managed to avoid any serious postnatal mental health problems. I even wrote about how parenting a newborn had helped my mental health. But 10 months and very little sleep later, things felt quite different.
He has never been a good sleeper and three hours unbroken sleep was a rare gift. Until six months he wouldn’t nap in a cot at all and until eight months I couldn’t leave him while he slept. He hated being put down or sitting still and needed constant attention and interaction. All of which was manageable until his sleep deteriorated to the extent we’d have regular nights when he would wake every 45 minutes or so. I was surviving on the nap I would get when Al took him for a couple of hours in the morning. Four hours of broken sleep felt like a good night. My own insomnia started to get worse. Al went away for work for eight days and everything broke soon after he got back.
I couldn’t sleep even when I had the opportunity. Bedtime and naptime made me panic. I went to bed with a dry mouth and my heart racing. I felt I had nothing left to give and spent a lot of the day in tears while feeling guilty that my stress and sadness was affecting Oaklan.
Luckily, my family came down to help for a week. While we were away in Cornwall (see the gorgeous beach photos) I had another three or four sleepless nights and panicky days. I spoke to the doctor and upped my medication to 100mg/day (the highest it’s ever been).
Over the next few weeks, our sleep was up and down. The insomnia and bedtime fear was still there. After a bad night I would feel very panicky that the awful sleep times were returning. Although my anxiety slowly reduced I started to feel very low with lots of intrusive suicidal images. I found it hard to feel connected to Oaklan and could only go through the motions of parenthood. At night, I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest as I struggled to sleep.
These feelings are slowly fading now. But it takes time to climb out of the hole. For a while I was coping on a daily basis but my resilience was really low. I struggled to manage when Oaklan was difficult or if something else made the day harder. Then I felt really guilty for relying on other people and pretty useless as a mother.
But nights have got easier to manage. His sleep is improving and Alex can settle him now. My sleep is mending and I’m feeling brighter and calmer. I hope I’m rebuilding that resilience too. Returning to work has also helped. I enjoy the balance of three days writing and four days with Oaklan.
So that’s the honest story behind some of those lovely pictures. Postnatal mental health problems can affect you much later than you might expect (I think technically the definition is up to a year after birth). It has been really really hard. But I’m incredibly thankful for wonderful friends, supportive family and, of course, Alex. Not everyone has those kinds of brilliant and nourishing relationships to help keep them safe and well. And it’s probably worth adding that a lot of people find supportive communities and friendships on Instagram too. This post by Holly Bourne is a lovely example.