I’m trying not to go down. Today has been busy, I’ve kept the doubts, the loneliness at bay.

Started off with a sinking feeling. I woke up late and that disappointed me. 12:30pm. I clearly needed the sleep (especially after a week of broken and barely there sleep) but it’s still an awful long time to stay out cold for. That’s what cleaning up a 15 year olds projectile vomiting at 3am does.. Helluva lie in. 

So. Up late and out shopping to buy a new table and chairs. Yesterday I had a delivery of new furniture for my living room, the table and chairs set was to finish it off. Bought my little girl some new school dresses and my 15 year old some new school trousers. And shorts and socks for toddler boy. Grab a macdonalds on the way home for my big boys and say goodbye to £170. It all adds up.

Once home I clean the kitchen, put the washing on the line, tidy up. Help 15 year old assemble table and chairs. Repot some pot plants, do some extra planting outside. So everything is done, and it’s beautiful. The big boys helped in the garden and the house, its tidy and lovely. With the four small people at their nannas for the weekend it’s been quiet and if it’s clean, it stays clean. It feels difficult.

Anyway, shower before Doctor Who. Sit down to watch it. Once it’s finished (and later than expected thanks to the live pause option) im lonely. My evenings gone. How do I stay up? I don’t know how to, I don’t know what to do now.  I’m sat on my own watching American Horror Story. Where do I go from here? My body feels like it’s fallen. Like it’s taken a battering and it’s just barely functioning. My mind is at sixes and sevens. I have cries in my chest but they’re not coming out yet. I can feel the tears behind my eyes. 

My children are away from me. I’m spending longer away from them than I have in years. 2 nights. I’ve not had 2 nights off since 2014. I’ve not had any time off. And I didn’t make concrete plans as it was so last minute and I don’t trust superdad or his mum when it comes to keeping plans. So I guess I shot myself in the foot this time. I could’ve done lots and instead I didn’t do anything. Oh well. Onwards and forwards I suppose. It’s only 18 hours until I see the kids again. But who’s counting.

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