Depression and anxiety: with a toddler 

So far in this mini-series of blog posts about my mental health I’ve talked about how my struggles first came about, how I dealt with it then and  how I feel I’ve begun to tackle it now. But I’ve mostly avoided discussion about one pretty major component in it all; my daughter Millie.

If I boil it down my main problem was being overwhelmed with too many things to worry about on a day to day basis, and of course Millie is a huge part of that. There were days when I really struggled to just get to the end of the day, and I was so frustrated, but I knew that her demands weren’t anything out of the ordinary and the problems were mine.

As time wore on and I felt lower and lower, and I began to feel disconnected from her. If I tried to say no to something and she protested, I gave in instantly. I normally feel guilty if she watches any TV or if she eats something I think is unhealthy, but I just went with the quickest and easiest option instead. I was lacking the mental energy to cope with most things day to day, and that included Millie.

That’s actually quite painful to admit to. Obviously she was never neglected or open to harm in any way, but if I’m honest our emotional relationship suffered for a time, because I had just begun to go through the motions. I had to remind myself to get more involved with her; smile when she did something funny and looked at me for a response, sit with her and cuddle while she watched Peppa Pig for the millionth time, and just not let it go when she refused to do more important things like clean her teeth.

I had been signed off work and had decided to keep Millie in her routine of spending two days a week at nursery. She also spent a day a week with my sister in law, and my Mum and Dad would help out and take her for odd days too. If anyone was able to give me a few hours to myself, I took it.

I was drowning and constantly dreamed of ways out. I often fantasised that I could book somewhere and go away to just be completely by myself, because all I wanted was for everything in my life to stop and leave me alone. I particularly remember a day when my sister was off work after an operation and couldn’t drive, and we were going to visit her. She lives about 20 minutes from me and I packed Millie and the dog into the car, and cried the whole way there. I genuinely considered what might happen if I asked my sister to take Millie for a few weeks and just drove away.

Afterwards I felt ridiculous and incredibly guilty. I felt guilty because I knew I was letting Millie (and everyone else) down and giving her far less than she deserved from her mother. I felt guilty because other people were coping with more children and more complicated lives than me, and yet I was crumbling. I felt guilty because there are people who would give everything to be parents, and I was wishing my daughter away. I felt like a failure.

One day my Mum popped in to see us and Millie saw her at the door and immediately went to get her bag and shoes as if she was going out, and then cried when she realised her Nanny was staying in the house with us. That was a bit of a slap to be honest, because I realised just how accustomed she’d gotten to being taken by other people, and how my company was wasn’t enjoyable for her.

I slowly started trying to spend time with Millie one on one. We often do things with others, and I thought it would be good to be together, away from home (because we both go a bit stir crazy when we’re in for too long), with no expectations.

We went to a local play café, we went to the farm, we went to the forest. I tried to let go of everything else in my head and just see her. I would sit with her and talk, play, or do nothing, just watch her. Forget my worries about what she was eating, what else was going on that day, everything.

You know what I realised? I need her. Dear God, do I need her. All the time I had been pulling away from her, and yet when I began to let her back in, she was the one healing me. When I focused on her I could smile because I was happy, and laugh because I wanted to, not because I thought I should. Children are such unaffected, joyous little souls, and I was getting to share that, and see things the way she did.

She doesn’t give a shit if I didn’t shower today, or if she had spaghetti hoops for tea three times this week. Everything she does is interesting to her, or fun, and when I began to just follow her lead, I saw it that way too. I would come home from our times out feeling lighter, and a little at a time I was genuinely enjoying life more, in all aspects.

Millie and sleep have never been great pals and in the last few months she’s spent a lot of nights in bed with me, then more recently we’ve moved her bed into our room, and this has also been really wonderful. It’s meant her sleep has settled and she no longer wakes nearly as much at night, which helps with my sleep deprivation, and I love being so close to her. Laying in the dark and listening to her breathing is very relaxing, and always makes me feel comforted and warm. Then in the mornings she doesn’t wake crying, I roll over and she’s right there, all bed head and chatter.

Now I continue to make time from myself away from everything else, including Millie, because I know I need it, and I know it’s ok to have that. I also continue to make time for just the two of us, because it seems to centre me a bit, we always have a great time, and I know one day she’ll be grown and gone, and I will be fantasising about our lives now instead.

I’ve read a number of times that having time away from your kids makes you a better parent, and it’s so true. If I have time to refuel myself I can give her everything when we are together, and I’ve accepted that now. I’ve realised that I can’t learn to manage my mental health issues without her, so from here on in, it’s a team effort.

Depression and anxiety: facing the music

I have suffered with post natal depression before (and written about it here), and the difference between my experiences then and more recently have been vast. Many of the feelings and symptoms were the same, but my response, now I can look back on it a bit, has been very different.

Last time I wanted to hide it, and wasn’t even clear about what ‘it’ was. I refused medication, talked to no one and bumbled on. This time around I knew I had to handle it differently, and even at my lowest felt strong enough to open up and do that. In this post I want to talk about some of the things that have made the most difference to me in moving forward.

My actions have been very simple and not in any way new or ground breaking, but the positive impact of some of these things has been quite profound. Knowing what you should be doing and actually doing it can sometimes be worlds apart, but the effects of making the effort can’t be ignored.

First up, I took the anti-depressants. It took a while to notice any impact because initially my dose was a bit low and they take a few weeks to kick in anyway, but I ignored the stigma of ‘giving in’ and took them. About five weeks after I started a close relative became very ill and my life became a merry-go-round of hospital visits, trips to collect belongings, making necessary calls, arranging care for Millie so she wasn’t in the hospital with me every day and various other things. I quickly realised that handling all this would have been impossible for me to comprehend a short time before, but all of a sudden I was behaving more like myself again. Thank you medical science.

Second most important factor; I talked. I referred myself to an NHS talking therapies service and did an online course in depression and anxiety (which I didn’t feel made any great impact) before being recommended for some face to face sessions, which I’m still having now and have been hugely beneficial. I’ve been asked about every aspect of my life from childhood to now, and considered things I would never have dreamed had an effect on my thought processes or behaviours as an adult. Not all of it is linked but to have the space to sit in a room for an hour and talk really honestly through these things has been…uplifting. We spent so much time just going about our business that we never give ourselves space to reflect and talk through our memories or thoughts, and just organise them properly.

I’ve also been talking to friends and family. Not always in detail, but just the decision that I was going to talk to people full stop was a big one. Initially I told some close friends and my immediate family, and just to know they were there if I needed them and I wasn’t alone was like a light in the corner of my dark attic of a mind. There are a few that I’ve really opened up to at times, and always walked away feeling so much lighter. There aren’t answers to everything, which is often hard to accept, but just to speak openly without having to have a resolution is very freeing.

Talking about your feelings is such a simple concept, and so easy to tell someone to do, but the reality is so different. It’s like the ‘too difficult’ imaginary box I have at work, that I put a task in when I don’t want to face it, and yet when I get to doing it it’s always easier than I expected. The day I told my dad why I was off work it took me about two hours in his company of thinking the words but not saying them, opening my mouth and nothing coming out. I felt stupid, but he just said ‘that’s good you’re taking some time’ and made lots of offers to help out and ease the pressure on me. It’s a work up, but seriously just tell someone, anyone, when you’re struggling. It’s worth it!

I was initially signed off work for three weeks, and the thought was horrendous, but in the end I was off for almost three months. Once I had gotten used to being away from the office the idea of going back and returning to having so much more to think about every day made me very anxious, so I needed extra time to deal with that. I started out doing things I thought were therapeutic or worthwhile activities; I got my nails done, I tackled a couple of projects at home, I caught up with friends – I kept busy. But that’s the opposite of what I needed. A very clever friend told me to ‘find the quiet’, and she was spot on. I slowly realised that doing more was actually my problem. I can’t say I ever managed it well, but I tried to make time to slow down and do nothing. Lay down, sit outside, watch mindless TV, anything that required zero brain activity.

It’s definitely a skill to be able to create quiet space in your day, but I’m getting it, and it’s bloody lovely. It frees my mind when the crap starts to build up, and I’m then much more able to move forward with the rest of my day. I didn’t see a value in doing something that wasn’t on my never ending to do list before, but now I do. If I spend an entire day visiting friends and family, having fun with Millie, reading and relaxing without doing any housework, it’s fine. Tomorrow is another day.

My outlook now is much more positive. The last few weeks I’ve felt brilliant to be honest, and I’m kind of waiting for the bubble to burst, but equally I’m determined to keep it going. I can feel when things stress me out, and the familiar trappings of anxiety creep up, and I make the effort to step away if I can, breathe and take a break. I’m also trying to take more time where I can – when I walk the dog with Millie for example, I’m trying not to rush her along as much, we take as long as it takes (!) for her to look at flowers and grass and whatever else, run in the opposite direction or sit on the floor. I’m taking more time to enjoy little things and just say hi to people where I might have stomped on past before, especially at work.

There are a few things I’ve found particularly ‘light bulb moment’ in the last few months, that have really made me think and change my perspective a bit, which I thought I’d share. :

  • Like a Queen (Constance Hall): this is a particularly empowering book for women, all about Constance’s thoughts and experiences about mental health, children, relationships, feminism, and life in general. Towards the end of the book I started to really get a lot of what she’d been saying about where you get your strength and value from as a person and it just resonated with me. She’s very outspoken and honest, which I found very supportive, in an odd way.
  • The life-changing magic of not giving a f@*k (Sarah Knight): this book does exactly what it says on the cover – gives you a long lecture about letting go of worrying about everyone and everything else, and giving too many fucks. I read it in only four days, and there are some processes for evaluating where you give too many fucks and reducing that which I haven’t done yet, but the overall philosophy is a great one and I’m definitely trying to give fewer fucks now!
  • Music: Now and again when I’m alone I absolutely love to put music on really loud and sing or dance around to it – always releases endorphins and cheers me up. Some of my faves (don’t judge me!) are Little Mix (girl power to the max), Adele or Westlife for a good old singalong and some 90s RnB for a little bop.
  • You app: I only discovered this a few weeks ago, and I love it. It’s all based on the idea that making positive changes in your life is about making a series of micro changes first. You select subject areas you want to focus on, and then every day the app sets you a micro action to complete, one of mine this week was to eat outside and enjoy the sunshine. Just a little something every day to make you stop and enjoy the moment!
  • Putting my daughter in nursery: Millie’s always done two days a week in nursery, and while I was off I continued the pattern, which was invaluable. I never got two days a week to myself, but it just allowed me to shift my focus and recharge my brain regularly,and I’m very glad I had the luxury to do that.
  • Time away: This one is also a luxury that I’m grateful for. In the few weeks before i came back to work my husband and I went away with family, we were lucky to enjoy some good weather and had a truly fantastic time with some of my family, and then his sister and her children. Being away from home gave us both proper headspace and meant we spent true quality time as a family (standard Land’s End photo below), which left me feeling so very good about my life, and more determined than ever to be more appreciative of the good stuff and not get dragged down by the bad.

This has been a very long and rambly post. When I read it back it sounds rather floaty and wonderful and actually the reality isn’t that perfect. I can’t say that I’ll never struggle in the same way again, and I certainly still have times when I’m overwhelmed and get totally drained, I don’t have time to amble where I’d like to or I snap when I’d rather I didn’t, but it’s a work in progress. The bottom line is I don’t feel  like I’m anywhere near the dark place I was in at the beginning of the year, so I must be doing something right!

Depression and anxiety: how it all began 

Towards the end of the summer last year, I began to realise I was having problems with my mental health. I’d had 10 days off work and spent them very wisely, with a trip to see relatives in Ireland and lots of time with my husband and daughter. I felt relaxed and happy, and yet I was dreading coming back to work, more so than I’d ever felt before. On my first day back I felt like a complete outsider within my very friendly team, and it took me a few hours to actually speak to anyone properly. It was very unlike me, but I put it down to work being particularly stressful at the time, perhaps a bit of post-holiday blues, and just carried on.

As the months wore on I was having bouts of sadness and feeling low, cancelling plans to see friends, and days where I struggled to even speak to people. Usually these things would shift or pass, but they were happening more often, and lasting longer. Christmas came and went, and then at the end of January this year, the situation came to a head.

Quite simply, I didn’t care anymore. I wrote in a blog post at the time that I felt like I was running and running on a treadmill and hadn’t ever considered just turning the speed down; I was completely mentally exhausted from just trying to keep up with every day. I was also very sleep deprived and getting up multiple times at night after having failed at trying to ‘sleep train’ my daughter, which really wasn’t helping. I’d completely lost the ability to deal with anything remotely stressful, like my brain had just shut down. If someone asked me a complicated question I’d struggle to answer and just stare at them. I was very sad and low, crying a lot (hiding in toilets became a regular activity), getting frustrated and angry a lot, forgetting things and having to constantly apologise to people for getting things wrong at work. In short, I was a mess.

I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know how bad it was, or what to do about it. I clearly wasn’t coping well, because a few friends both in and out of work noticed I was struggling and helped me realise I needed to speak to someone and ask for help. I feel incredibly grateful because I think without the nudges I had from these lovely people, I’m not sure I would have been able to do it. To say you can’t cope with life is a very awkward conversation to have with anyone, and it was hard.

I was craving simplicity; trying to figure out if I could afford to quit my job and start again somewhere. If I could go away for a few months by myself so I didn’t have to think about anyone else. At the time Trump had just been elected and the news was rife with stories about him – stories that I would normally want to read, discuss, argue politics about – and I actively avoided it all because I couldn’t deal with it.

A big part of how I ended up this way, is that as well as being terrible at saying no to things, and thinking I had to take responsibility for other people as well as myself all the time, I have a particular issue with judging myself by higher standards than anyone else. I don’t know why, but somehow I always tell myself to just keep going where I never would expect the same of others. Had I been sat opposite anyone saying the things I was then, I would have taken them along to the doctor myself, but I needed to be told rather than give myself the same break. Thanks goodness for other people’s honesty!

Some people’s experiences of asking for professional support for mental health issues aren’t great, but the day I went the locum doctor I saw was incredibly understanding. She explained how our brains use adrenaline to kick start the ‘fight or flight’ response in stressful situations, and then afterwards your hormones return to a base level. Mine had not been returning to base level, meaning I was trying to operate in a crisis mode continuously, which is just not sustainable. It was a perfect illustration for how I’d been feeling, and I was incredibly relieved that someone got it, and also that it wasn’t all in my head! I was prescribed anti-depressants and signed off work to try and get some space and rest.

Before I went to see my GP the idea of not working for any length of time scared me, I worried about how it would impact everyone else, and what on earth I was supposed to do with myself while I was off, but with hindsight it was absolutely the best decision. I was spinning too many plates, and trying to operate in the same way as I always had before having a child, giving everything in my life the same importance as I did before.

Between trying to give full time effort to work as a part time member of staff, care for my daughter myself or arrange her care around my husband’s shifts, ensure the dog was walked and looked after every day, help care for my husband’s elderly grandmother, and keep up with housework, seeing family and friends and all the other trappings of life, it was too much. When I write it down it doesn’t seem like a very long list, but I was trying to put in more time and energy than I had to all of these things and inevitably failing. Something had to give, and the most obvious candidate was work.

I’m happy to report that, three months on, I’m feeling completely different. There was a time when I felt like I’d lost sight of who I was, and couldn’t be sure I’d ever get back to feeling better again, but I have. Right now I’m relaxed, happy, and with a far more positive outlook. It’s not a quick turnaround, and I know I’m not done yet, but I’m back to work and starting to get some normality back. I’m starting to get myself back, which right now feels really good.

Shameful as it is to admit it, I didn’t want to face what was happening initially. I felt I had to keep going, I couldn’t rest, that I was stronger than anxiety and depression, and it wouldn’t happen to me. Frankly that’s all bullshit, and it can happen to anyone, at any time. I’m glad it did, because I had to crack somehow in order to learn how to make some changes. Not the easiest of learning curves, but certainly one I’ve made progress on.

I’ve also learned a lot. I work for the NHS in a mental health trust and I thought I knew about depression and anxiety, but I didn’t really. I was surprised to find that my main issue has been anxiety, taking responsibility for and worrying about so many different things that it led me down a path to depression, and apparently the two often go hand in hand.

I’ve come to realise that I can say no, that looking after myself isn’t selfish, and sometimes I need to come first, otherwise I won’t be able to put anyone else first later on. I can tell you that I’m a better wife, mum, daughter, sister, friend, colleague (etc) and a better person overall for looking after myself. And I’m happier, which in the end is all I really want.

A letter to myself

I found out recently that maternal mental health awareness week was happening this week (1-7 May), and it got me thinking. Having a child – whether you’re pushing it out, having it surgically removed, adopting or whatever else – is the most incredible life change. There is no amount of reading or research that can prepare you for the sudden weight of responsibility in keeping such a small person alive. It’s a 24 hour operation, and if ever there’s a time in your life when your normal defences are down, and you are vulnerable to a bit of mental pressure, this is definitely it.

Some people take to it like they were born to (the buggers), but others, like me, don’t. I suffered with post-natal depression in the months after Millie was born, and at the time I thought there was something wrong with me. I refused medication, I didn’t talk about it, and I pushed on through. My life and experiences may have evolved and moved on, but there are many, many more people out there feeling like I did then. Eighteen months on, I’ve written my new mum self a letter with some advice I wish I’d had the courage to ask for then.

Dearest Liz,

Hits you like a brick wall, doesn’t it? I mean, you expected it, but you also really didn’t, and it’s hard. It’s so very hard sometimes, and you need to acknowledge that; you don’t have to brave face it all the time.

We need to just set a baseline here – you’re doing a good job. You know why? Because you give a shit. I read this recently and it makes total sense. The very fact that you worry about Millie getting the best, and feel guilty about what you think she might be missing out on, makes you a good mum. If you weren’t you wouldn’t care. Take heart in that.

I know it’s a rollercoaster. I know that you can’t leave her sight for a second, and that sometimes when you do the cry you hear makes every nerve in your body jangle, and you need to take a breath before you can walk back in and paint on a smile for her. I also know that when she smiles back and kicks those little legs because she’s happy just to see you, your heart melts. I can see it in your face. She’s a powerful being, and personally I think mother nature makes babies that way on purpose. They have to be so delicious in order for you to take the hardship – they give you strength.

You need to draw on this strength when you are at your lowest. Those times when you think she’d be better off without you, and you want to disappear? That it would be easier if you just kept driving and never stopped? You’re wrong. You need each other, right now more than ever.

You are strong, you are doing a brilliant job, you are not failing her, she does not deserve a better mum. There is no one better than you to look after your daughter.

I know you can hear all this, but you don’t believe a word of it. You feel battered, exhausted beyond the realms of possibility, and like you’re falling at every hurdle. There are days when you feel disconnected, and have nothing left, and can’t summon the energy to look after yourself, let alone a baby. And that’s ok. There is no overnight fix, and for now just that you’re hearing the words is enough, but you must never, ever forget them. When you lay down on the floor on her mat just to get a better look at her and drink her in, or during the many hours you sit staring at her sleeping on your chest, tell yourself how great you are. When you look in the mirror and cringe at your reflection, or hold back tears because she’s been crying for hours, tell yourself again. The smiles, the contented naps, the giggles, are all because of you. She’s figuring out a lot right now and growing fast, so she’s got a tough job to do too. You are all she wants in the middle of all that; you’re her whole entire world. You must be pretty bloody special to hold that spot.

Now I’m nearly done. See that bloke on the other end of the sofa? The one holding his iPhone? Tell him. Tell him everything you’re feeling, and ask him to help. He won’t be sure how, because he can’t be when you don’t even know yourself, but you can’t do this alone. Plus he’s not a mind reader! Then tomorrow text one of your friends and do the same. It’s scary to be so honest when you’re breaking inside, but it’ll be worth it. BT once said it’s good to talk, and they weren’t wrong. It takes a village to raise a child, so start getting your village on board!

Finally, step back and look after yourself now and again, don’t try and do it all. Walking the dog is driving you insane so get someone else to do it, and stop thinking about the hoovering, and making people cups of tea when they pop in. In fact some days you don’t have to say yes to them popping in at all if that’s what you want! Let people do more for you, it’s not for you to look after everyone all the time. Focus on you and Millie, get fresh air, take more baths, eat all the chocolate.

Oh darling, when I think of you now it makes me quite emotional, and I just want to scoop you up and hold you. It will get better, and as that little girl grows you will too. I promise.

Don’t be afraid to put yourself first sometimes. Millie needs you to.

Me xx

Post natal depression 

October 10, 2016, is World Mental Health Day, and though people are talking about this whole subject much more now than in previous years, it’s still far too much of a taboo, so I’m sharing my story so far. If any of this identifies with you or someone you know, please talk about it xxx

I finally realised I had post natal depression when Millie was about four months old. I was out for a drink with a friend and she commented on what a great job I was doing with my daughter, and I tried to say thank you but burst into tears instead. I was so embarrassed, but I just couldn’t hear it. A great job was the total opposite of what I felt like I was doing.

I thought I knew all about PND. I work for an NHS trust that provides both mental health care and health visiting services, so I’d read the blurb, written the advice, and as a mum I’d sat through the appointments, checks and been asked the questions. I knew the signs, but I’d just been ignoring them. I thought it wasn’t going to happen to me.

I knew something wasn’t right, but I found it incredibly hard to face up to that, or speak to someone. I’d gotten through the ‘baby blues’ stage, where the most attention is paid to the risk of PND, and was getting more sleep, had a good routine with Millie, I’d built confidence in knowing what she needed and when, and I had lots of family and friends to support me. So why was it so bloody hard?

At the time I was not only managing a small person, but also doing quite a lot to help care for my husband’s grandmother, who suffers with dementia and had some time in respite before moving to a care home, and we also have a dog. The dog is a minor point to many but she was my tipping point. At the end of every marathon day juggling feeds, naps, changes, appointments, phone calls and whatever else, I’d get through the door exhausted to see a hopeful little furry face. She was someone else who needed something from me and it was just too much.

When I got to the point of saturation, I got angry. Not necessarily at anyone, but just lashed out. I did a lot of shouting and crying in the car, which Millie was often audience to. Sometimes she was the source of my exasperation and I lost count of how often I’d raise my voice at her and say ‘I don’t know what you want!’. Sorry pumpkin.

My other outlet was the shower. I’ve spent a lot of time crying in the shower, telling Millie how sorry I was, how much I’d failed her, and that she deserved far better than me. Millions are bringing up children every day and doing an amazing job, and yet after only four months I thought I’d fucked it all up, and should probably just leave.

I know I’m lucky to have been blessed with a child, and I know there are people fighting much greater battles than me. But in the midst of all this I’m afraid that knowledge meant jack shit and didn’t change how I felt every day, it just made me feel more guilty for feeling it at all.

There’s an analogy I read that really hit home for how I was feeling; pouring from an empty cup.  When you always trying to give yourself to others and fill their cups until yours is empty and you’ve nothing left to give, and no one’s giving anything to you either.

There was too much going on so my brain just clocked off for a bit. I couldn’t concentrate on anything, or be bothered to speak to anyone, and became very withdrawn. I’d feel incredibly low and couldn’t see how I was helping anyone.
I eventually went to see a GP, was prescribed anti depressants, which I didn’t take. Even as she was printing the prescription I knew I wouldn’t. I felt like taking them was giving in somehow, which I know is bloody ridiculous. I also still didn’t talk to anyone, which is even more ridiculous, and just pushed on.

Christmas came and went, and then in the New Year my cloud began to lift. The festive season brings such disruption to routine that I was distracted, and as things around me began to settle I felt much brighter, and was able to enjoy life more. I can’t say there was anything I did really, but things just felt easier after a while.

I think depression skews your coping mechanisms long term, and I’m definitely still dealing with that. I’ve always considered myself to be pretty strong emotionally, and in almost every job interview I’ve had I’ve confidently told people that I thrive on crisis, and perform best under pressure. I know now that the opposite is true after having a baby!

My job can be pretty full on, and has certainly been stressful since I went back to work six months ago, as well coordinating childcare and home, friends, family etc. The treadmill of life has been whacked up a few notches and I do struggle to keep up! Now I’ve felt depression I sometimes can tell that I’m dancing around it again, which I suppose is good as a warning sign, and I know I need to act rather than just ignore it now.

With hindsight I think my case was pretty mild, but I don’t really know, and it definitely didn’t feel mild at the time. I’ve heard and read stories from people who suffered far worse experiences than me, and it can be devastating to deal with. What I do know is that you can’t face it alone. Now when I’m feeling low I try and talk to people more, and it really does help, and in fact just hearing from others online and feeing less alone is a huge support. Not letting anyone in just isolates you further, which is the last thing you need. I also love long hot baths and finding time to read. You have to make it about you sometimes!

Although those crappy inspirational quotes that flood social media are annoying, some of them really are true. You can only take life a day at a time, and sometimes you just have to let things go and focus on what’s important. And actually, I’m pretty bloody important. ❤️