Four years ago, I tried to set up this site. I wanted to help other Mums by documenting my journey and sharing my experiences raising three kids. I had been through a lot and had undertaken a lot of personal growth and healing. I felt like I had so much hope and support to offer. Or so I thought at the time.
Not long after that, my life was hit with a wrecking ball. I was coming to terms with my feelings towards my mother’s death, which had shadowed the entire postpartum period of my third baby, only to be met with the news that my Dad was diagnosed with cancer only a year later. Coupled with potentially losing my job… I was already in a bad place.
Then came the whispers and the sideways glances from people I’d said good morning to every day on the school run. The police knocking on the door for wellness checks on my children. My kids being left out at school. The deep sense of isolation out of nowhere. Even my new neighbour, who had been so keen to be friends, started avoiding us and flinching if I passed her in the street, pulling her child as if we were diseased. Then it clicked. It was her. She was the one calling the police and spreading rumours, isolating us from the community.
Once it was out in the open, she was relentless. Blaring music through the wall of my children’s bedroom all day till gone bedtime. Knocking over their scooters outside our door. Destroying the Pumpkins our kids had planted. Going out of her way to make the kids feel unwelcome in their own home. I was spiralling.
She was even stalking my activities online. She found all my social media, my YouTube and tried to intimidate me through Twitter. When I found out I was pregnant, the only time I mentioned it outside the family was in a video. She cited it as the only reason to hold back from assaulting me. And it confused me. She’d only know if she’d watched that video, and if she hated me so much, why is she watching my content?
I soon discovered we weren’t her only target. Anyone who prioritised their family over her “friendship” was hit. Even when we moved to another building, it didn’t stop. She would film the kids and me out on the street to catch moments where I called after them or had to tell them off, as if it was evidence of abuse.
Even though I understood logically that this was a “her” problem, it still ate at me. Knowing that every time I left the house, I might run into her. But what was worse was how readily people had believed her; that no one had come and spoken to us. It felt like whatever they had heard just confirmed what they already believed. And that cut deep. Maybe I was a monster? Maybe my kids did deserve better? Maybe they would be better off without me?
So there I was, in August of 2024, contemplating ending it all. Thoughts I hadn’t experienced in 10 years. I was a wreck.
Who was I to share advice about motherhood and mental health when this was the state I was in?
I’m sure the fact that this post exists tells you that I came out the other side of all that darkness. With so many more lessons learned and so much more life experience than I had when I’d originally tried to set up this site. I’ve rebuilt my life, strengthened my family, and I most certainly am the person to be sharing advice about motherhood and mental health.
Here we are, four years after I intended to start this blog. I’m 4 weeks postpartum with our 5th baby and loving life.
I’m an entirely different person from when I started my healing journey in late 2020. It takes time, dedication and a willingness to take accountability for your own wrongdoings. It takes many failed attempts and changes of strategy. It’s not about being perfect or even appearing so, because when you learn the truth, perceived perfection suddenly seems diabolical.
We will have hard seasons in life. Some of which would have passed a lot more easily without outside interference. But every experience is a learning opportunity and a chance to grow.
xoxo