rivka | (no subject)

I don't interpret dreams, as a therapist, but sometimes even I have to admit that my subconscious is talking to me with a twenty-foot-tall neon sign. Last night I dreamed that mice infested our fridge and chewed holes in the bags of breastmilk I have stored in there. There you go: most of my current inadequacies rolled up neatly into a two-minute dream sequence. Our dirty house, our mouse problem (of which I am incredibly ashamed), pumping, Colin being okay while I'm at work...

I don't know why I've been treating this like a secret, but.

I have a postpartum anxiety disorder. It mostly manifests as intense feelings of guilt, shame, and inadequacy, with a lot of focus on other people probably thinking I'm horrible and some tendencies toward obsessive thinking.

I am in treatment, and coming up on the point where the Prozac is supposed to kick in.

Right now it's very hard for me to use my LJ. I'm pretty caught up in the inside of my head, and the last thing I want to do is write about that, but the truth is that whenever I think about posting something I picture people disapproving of me or judging me for it. So I'll post about the kids because it's a safe topic and then I'll think that most of you probably despise me for being so wrapped up in my children that I've erased my own life from my LJ, or else you think I'm a horrible mother who puts academic pressure on Alex because I posted about teaching her to read, and I could write about the new nanny but then what if she leaves like the last one did and that just proves what a failure I am and... well. You get the picture.

I feel ridiculous even saying all this but that's where things are with me right now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

One of our primary reasons for getting another cat was to scare the mice into staying in the basement. Where, with the fairly porous stone foundation, it's impossible to completely get rid of them but as long as they are not in the living spaces I can share.

I am not sure Josie actually knows what to do with a mouse, but as long as the mice are convinced, I'm OK with that.

I've had two (likely field mice) in my current place, where I've been for 2 years. My cat is competent at the 'beat them into stunned submission' part of the equation, but not at the killing them part.

I keep old tupperware around just in case, scoop them up, and let them go outside with stern injunctions to tell all their mousie friends that a cat lives there. It seems to work.

Ah, Sato's brother likes the capture part, but isn't even good at stunning. It's more like "hey, I got a new cat toy and Mom didn't even have to go to the pet store!". I admit I will intervene to rescue anything that is still alive and loose it into the outside world, blocks away. Maybe the tactic of "tell your friends" works!