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sixymama

Mental, mardy, but a little bit marvellous..

Month

August 2017

Monday 

I had a good weekend. Not a special one, not a particularly great one (bar the company) just a good one – a solid weekend, especially when compared to recent experience. We went to visit pets at home and see the small furry animals and the fish, went to the park for a bit, shopping, just stuff. Solid weekendy stuff. It was pretty darn good. Mr Fantastic was here ALL WEEKEND and that made even the worst (kids, meltdowns, tantrums, fights) moments bearable. He seems to hold my smiles. 

I’ve noticed that my mum guilt has lessened. Although it’s increased when it comes to me being out of the house more and actually leaving the childers for some lengths of time in each other’s (or others) company, it’s lessened in regards to the holiday guilt I had last year. 

I don’t feel the drive to make it marvellous – I’m content for them to relax and have fun, in their own way, in their own time, with me or without, and just make the most of it without being hounded out the door to school every morning and forced to suffer the cruelty of other children or the indignity of not feeling good enough. It’s a good thing, to relax. And they need to learn how.

Yes 

I been thinking today. My brain has been forcing stuff on me and kept me low today and it’s been a real struggle. I told my bump girls how its got. They understand me by now. We’ve been friends over 4 years; it’s unbelievable that we were just a group of randoms and this far on we’re firm friends. I appreciate them more than I have words to say.  Especially with the little monsters. 

Its 5 am, Abraham and Victoria are both up and running about screaming. I’ve not slept yet, as I went to bed (at midnight), Abraham woke up and that’s him for the night.

5:30am. Abe and Toria are both installed in front of the tv, on the couch, under blankets. My head hurts. I don’t know if I can physically stay awake much longer. I’m considering getting up and cleaning. As usual it looks like a bombs gone off in the house so I could probably manage it. Might keep me busy until those two sleep again at least. 

This post was going to be an exploration of potential triggers and instead I ended up moaning again. Truth is I don’t always know what triggers a down episode. I can feel the gradual slide into it but it’s so inexorable and unavoidable that it feels like there’s nothing I can do to actually stop it. And that’s weird because shouldn’t there be? I don’t know. 

AM thoughts. I hate them. Earlier I told mr Fantastic I didn’t like his wallpaper and I’m paying for it now. He knows I don’t like his ex. Should I not say these things? What if I stop? What if he just thinks I’m a negative nancy all the time and actually he starts to hate it the same as everyone else? Moaning myrtle, whinging Wendy, negative nancy. All names I’ve worn before. But he makes me positive there’s a future and I’m in it and he’s in it and we’re (both) alive and we’re happy because we’re together. I guess I need to get rid of the bad habits my brain has of second guessing and third thoughting and fourth thinking my every single little word or thought or action. 

How the hell do I do that?

Different 

Last week everything went purple. The light spots you see around things after looking at a bright light? Purple. Purple haloes around everything else. 

The week before it was green. Several times in the past few weeks it’s been yellow. 

Wherever I look is yellow and lights increase in size. They swell as I watch. The daylight is yellow and it makes everything else yellow. The artificial lights are yellow. Everything is yellow and shines so bright I have to close my eyes. Haloes. 

This morning I was hit with a headache with physical force. It punched into my head on one side, interrupting the conversation I was having. Twice. Then it refused to disappear – it was a pure, strong pain that only went once I took a pill that at that point I’d been 36 hours not taking. I think it makes such a difference. 

On the drive home down the motorway I noticed three pointy small trees shaped like rabbits ears. The back of the junction signs have ladders on them. The pattern of the crash barriers along the edges of the motorway make waffles. I saw 3 black cats. Two cars with blue headlamps. I was overtaken by a white car and then undertaken by an orange version of the same car. 

I kept forgetting to breathe. I wasn’t there, really. My hands were on the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white. I didn’t go above 73 miles an hour. I couldn’t breathe.

That feeling stayed with me. I wasn’t in my body properly. I was at the back of my head, watching everything else, struggling to focus on the road, the driving, the breathing. 

Tonight I looked at Mr Fantastic until he fell asleep and then I watched him sleep until I felt sleepy. It looked like his face was shaking and I realised it was my me shaking free of my body. I held on to him and made to move; he woke up and he was right where I needed him, and there I was. Home again. 

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