There’s a fine line between being a functioning adult and just being held together by prescription medication, caffeine and sheer stubbornness. I like to think I balance on that line with a certain level of grace, but let’s be honest. Some days I am simply a woman held together by iron tablets, thyroid hormones and a questionable amount of Mirtazapine.
If you know, you know.
Dealing with Hypothyroidism, Anaemia and Motherhood Exhaustion
Exhaustion is one thing, but exhaustion with layers is another. The kind of tiredness that seeps into your bones and makes you question whether you were ever not tired. There’s the anaemia, which means I have the iron levels of a rusty old nail. There’s the hypothyroidism, which means my body operates at the speed of a 90s dial-up connection unless I take my little daily dose of artificial thyroid. And then there’s the emotional rollercoaster that comes with EUPD (Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder), which ensures that even the most mundane days have a little extra… spice.
I take the tablets, I eat the spinach, I drink the water, but does it help? Debatable.
And just when I think I might have a grip on my own nonsense, my eldest comes strutting in, 11 going on 17, with an attitude that suggests she has lived a life of deep struggle and injustice. The injustice? I asked her to put her socks away. The struggle? I exist. It is truly humbling to be treated like the most unreasonable human being on the planet by someone who doesn’t have to wake up for school but still acts like I am the problem.
The Art of Saying No for No Reason
And yet, the love is definitely there. I see it in the little moments, the way they still come to me when they need comfort, the random hugs, the “I love you”s slipped in between the attitude. But my eldest? She has made “no” her personal brand.
Me: Can you put your shoes away?
Her: No.
Me: Do you want a snack?
Her: No. Takes the snack anyway.
Me: Can you please stop saying no to everything?
Her: No.
It’s not even rebellion, not really. It’s just her thing. A sport, almost. A reflex. And I get it. She’s at that age where she wants control, where she’s testing boundaries, where she’s figuring out who she is outside of being my child. But my God, the way she does it, with the dramatic sighs, the eye rolls, the sheer audacity of a person who doesn’t have to deal with school runs or homework deadlines but still somehow finds the energy to act oppressed.
Keeping It Together (Sort Of)
In the grand scheme of things, I am simply a mother, a woman and a walking pharmacy doing her best. Some days are better than others. Some nights involve scrolling aimlessly, wondering if I will ever feel rested again. And some mornings start with me forgetting whether I have already taken my thyroid meds or if I just thought about taking them. The thrill. The suspense. The potential consequences.
But you know what? We move.
Because despite it all, I still manage to show up. Maybe with a little extra dry shampoo and some expertly placed concealer, but I show up nonetheless. That, my friends, is a win.
Darling Mellow