It took me three years to face up to how I really felt when I became a parent. How much it unravelled my mental health. And how detrimental it was not to talk about it.
The second my daughter was born, I felt a deep and instant love for her. And was moved to a whole other dimension watching the visceral connection that my husband formed with her; the connection that helped heal his broken heart, a year after losing his mother to cancer.
There was the inevitable exhaustion, a messy house, an unfamiliar body, and a physical recovery process. I expected all of that. It was hard, of course, but manageable. What I didn’t expect was to feel so alien in my mind, so scared of my thoughts and to suddenly become aware of how disconnected from my mental health I had become.
I had depression when I was physically unwell in 2011 and 2012 [she was diagnosed with postural tachycardia syndrome, where an abnormally high heart rate can causes dizziness and fainting]. For me, it showed up as extreme apathy. I felt nothing. Nothing at being told I had a chronic illness and may likely never recover. Nothing at sitting for hours, day after day, totally alone. Nothing at my whole life unravelling. In retrospect, I wonder if that almost catatonic state was my way of protecting myself from the reality of where I was.
As my physical health improved, those feelings gently subsided. But the self-hatred and sense of failure lingered, pooling with the rock-bottom self-esteem that I’d been carrying my whole life. I pushed those feelings down though as, over the next five years, we started a business so were living in the chaos of a start-up, with the wild ups and downs, and the fear of going bust at any point.
I rode the emotional rollercoaster with extreme adrenaline. While that was going on, my parents went through a divorce that unravelled a lot of my childhood and sense of who we all were. And we lived out our deepest fears when my mother-in-law [Tessa Jowell] was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. We’d spend the week fighting fires at work and our weekends supporting my husband’s family, as his mother's health declined week-on-week.
A few months after she passed away, I found out I was pregnant, and our daughter is named in her honour, Skye Tessa. The Isle of Skye, her favourite place, and Tessa, her name.
I put my mental health on the back burner throughout this period. I didn’t have the space to address the reality of it and how I really felt about myself but, when Skye was born, my brain told me clearly that I was not okay.
For the first time, I experienced very intrusive thoughts. My brain would ruminate for hours on the worst-case scenario. Could the kettle switch itself on and burn down the house? Was I going to let go of the buggy into oncoming traffic? Would I drop her in the bath, or falling down the stairs? Was a headache cancer? Was a cold meningitis? I was obsessed with all possible dangers. I was terrified of life, and too scared to tell anyone about it.
Instead, I went back to work almost immediately. I kept running, thinking that I could run away from my thoughts, that I could bury the reality in distraction. Then lockdown happened. Everything was cancelled and, like everyone else, I was stuck at home with a lot of time to think and no choice but to confront how I really felt. I signed up to a two-month stress reduction course and, from that moment on, I’ve been putting my mental health first.
It’s taken me three years to unravel all of the above. They’re not easy topics to talk about, but I passionately believe that we need to remove the stigma around mental wellbeing, which means talking about how we really think and feel. I also believe that my lows were caused by two factors that feel relatively universal.
The first was constantly living in a cycle of stress, wherein my nervous system was so used to being in flight or fight mode that I started reacting to everything. I was in a constant state of hyper-vigilance, and subconsciously scanning for the next danger became my norm. I became scared of lifts, heights, flying, choking and pretty much everything else you can think of. I told myself that I didn’t have time to actively try and de-stress, but I was losing the joy from my life to that excuse.
The second was a deep-rooted lack of self-esteem. I saw myself as a failure, as unlovable, as someone that people couldn’t like. I’d take any negative feedback, no matter how minor or objective, as validation for that belief. I didn’t trust myself, and I think that lack of self-belief snowballed when I became a parent.
There’s nothing linear about our mental or physical health, but daily(ish) habits have changed my life. Finding space for quiet, to slow down, to get to know myself, cultivate self-awareness and most importantly self-compassion has changed my life.
My life is as busy as ever but, for the first time in 32 years, I’m happy. I’m also present, I’m no longer scared of everything and I love parenting. I trust myself. I love myself - flaws and all - and I know that I have the tools I need to keep those foundations in place forever. 10-20 minutes of daily meditation has been the biggest game-changer for me. I focus on positive affirmations, on appreciation and resetting my nervous system. Yoga helps too - just a quick 20-minute uplifting flow before the chaos of the day starts. Together they’ve rewired my brain to see the world differently, and I’m grateful beyond belief for that.
My top tips for nourishing your wellbeing:
One. Think about daily(ish) habits. Small, achievable habits that add up over time. Remember there is no single definition of wellness. What it means to be well and how it feels is unique to each of us. Finding what works – what feels enjoyable, achievable and sustainable – is how you’re going to define what wellness looks like for you so that those habits stay with you for decades.
Two. Try a morning routine. It’s hard (at times almost impossible) to make time for yourself as a mother. A morning routine has been a game-changer for me. I get up 30-60 minutes before my girls, who tend to sleep until about 7am. I meditate, stretch and drink coffee in silence. With that little routine I feel calm, grounded, and ready for the chaos. Without it, I feel like my life is a whirlwind and I can’t catch my breath.
Three. Start slowly. We have a food culture of all-or-nothing, where you're either on or off a bandwagon. But we know that diets and more faddy wellness trends don’t work, so lose the binary thinking. Instead, what one new healthy recipe could you try this week? Could I find 10-minutes to de-stress or get outside? Don’t over complicate it. Small and steady makes all the difference.
New episodes of the Wellness with Ella podcast are released each Wednesday