Mental, mardy, but a little bit marvellous..


October 2017

Catching up

This should be a long catch up huh?

The household has changed somewhat since I was last here. There are now two adults and 5 children. And two extras every other weekend. 

Mr Fantastic and I are getting divorced from our respective exes – both sets of paperwork have been sent, hurrah! We are in the process of planning our own wedding – so far it consists of “let’s get married and grab two witnesses off the street”. Sounds almost perfect to me.

He moved in, weeks ago now. Furniture and everything. Given up his house. I literally couldn’t be happier. To have him here with me, every day – it’s a dream come true. I get to wake up and see his face, feel his heartbeat next to mine. I never felt so loved before. 

We’re looking to move house. Neither of us want to unless we find somewhere perfect though, so it’s a case of looking and looking and leaving and looking and looking some more.

My girl has moved out. She’s 11 and can’t live with me anymore. She hates it here. It saddens me. She lives with her aunty and uncle and they love having her there and she clearly prefers to be there and it breaks my heart. Every time I hear of them doing stuff with her that I can’t do. Or her having friends round, or going here or there – it kills me a little bit more each time. She doesn’t want to do any of that stuff with me and her brothers and sisters. Because she doesn’t get enough attention. She doesn’t get everything her own way and while I understand that (and I do) it makes it very difficult to not be hard on myself or to feel like I’m not an absolute failure. 

On the plus side, since she moved out, she is much happier. Her aunt and uncle have some help with their baby, my girl is a little star with said baby, she is happy, and the children at home are definitely much more chilled because she’s not here to wind them all up all the time. The atmosphere is so much better, there’s less swearing and fighting and arguing. Its a lot easier – And a huge shame that she can’t be here to enjoy it – even though it would be completely different if she was. It’s so confusing. And hard. So hard. I’m so tired of always feeling like the bad guy. And I do when it comes to her. She actually hates me – she only loves me when she’s not near me. If she’s near me I’m less than nothing to her. Just someone to grind underfoot and take all her frustrations out on. It’s very difficult. I’m hoping as she gets older she will realise that all I’ve ever done is love her and care for her but I suspect her mind is potentially a victims mind and that’s the problem. I refuse to victimise anyone and that includes myself, I have little sympathy for those seeking it. Perhaps that’s my problem and I’ve driven her away. I don’t know. It’s a bloody mess. 

So that’s that, anyway. She’s moved out. Permanently I think. With the aim of her dad having her once he gets a new place. The 17 year old has given up college. He got his level 2 diploma and now is looking for an engineering apprenticeship. It could be worse. The 16 (I have a 16 year old now) asked for a bike for his birthday and is now showering and cleaning and doing his jobs and earning money and generally being much more grown up than he has been in the last few years which although welcome, is inherently scary for me. He’s my baby. 

Mr Fantastic and I are trying for a baby. Well, not trying as such – but not preventing. There is no birth control involved at any rate. If we fall then we do and it’ll be wonderful. If not I’ll be broken-hearted and so, I suspect, will he. Everything crossed though. I’m considered an old woman by baby making standards now, 35 is well past it. However it has only been 16 weeks since we met – we’ve plenty of time yet. I hope. 

So that’s that. We have Mr Fantastics son every other weekend – he slots right right in between Toria and Jack and it’s like he was meant to be here with us. It’s marvellous to see his smiley little face, and Mr Fantastic, although he seems extra stressed, is completely happier – his smile and his laughs seem more, somehow. Not more anything, just more. More him.

Maya comes home every other weekend too. We’ve only had her once since she moved out – and she hated every second and went back early on the Saturday – but with any luck it’ll get better and easier with time. I miss her so much. 

So that’s it. It’s a post of mixed feelings, this. It is however, a happy house. Happy children, happy cats. Happy Mr Fantastic. And a happy me. 



Yesterday was a bad day. And today was a good day but this evening has been hard again. My brain can’t keep still. It’s whizzing around from one thing to another and I’m having trouble concentrating on any of it. Like this post, I’ve had it in my head all day and it wasn’t going to be what Ive just said. It was going to be about examining ourselves and our feelings, how when we think we’re in the right but when we look back we can clearly see we were acting wrong or said the wrong thing or just expected something different from someone that we shouldn’t have. And why? Or how I used to disagree with people all the time and nowadays I don’t. Is that a throwback to that last disastrous relationship that spent years wearing me down and keeping me down and holding me underwater or was it a natural progression? And my lack of pills at the moment, I’ve gone cold turkey and it’s through no want of my own I just ran out (again) and I won’t get any more for days and days. And I’ve no no no way of getting more. So now I don’t know if i want to kill myself because I don’t have appropriate chemical backups that I would usually have or just because I’m so very low that it seems like the only option for me. Except it’s not, because then the kids would have no one and nothing to look after them. And then it might as well all be over. If it wasn’t. Which it is. And I’m paranoid. I’m seeing things that aren’t there. I see things out the corner of my eye and why would batman be a scary clown but there he was, just for a second, a glimpse. And I’m low level panicking, 24/7. It’s not even been /7 without my pills but I can feel it in my chest, the way my feet twitch, my eyes can’t stay still without seeing all this stuff. And I feel guilty because earlier I shouted at the kids. And I wish I hadn’t and can I please get rid of this angry, zero to a hundred irritability because it is killing me never to have a calm moment. I need some kind of quiet and my head bubble has popped.

Bad night 

I was going to do a catchup – I’ve lots to tell you – but im freaking out instead. It’s half past 1 in the morning and I’ve just got onto the couch. I’ve been awake for ages. I was asleep for an hour and a half. It was a great sleep, vivid dreams, warmth, craziness. All winners. 

Certain things you can put up with when you’re mentally – ill? – different. I’m currently off my meds’ so I don’t know what’s me and what’s not. It’s been a few weeks – I thought I’d made a note of the dates but I haven’t. I think I’m on the third week without but it feels much longer. I’m not sure at all. 

So. Seeing things that aren’t there, predominantly in the garden, at night? Fine. I can live with that. I can put it all down to other things. An overactive imagination. Treading the line between sleep and waking. Trusting that it’s all good and I’m really safe. I can totally have some faith and live with that. 

Hearing things that aren’t there I can’t. Not in the middle of the night. I don’t like whispers at the best of times. A voice whispering loudly in my ear? No. Ohhhh no. 

Being terrified when all I want to do is sleep? Can’t do it. I’m used to being awake so many times in the middle of the night, that’s fine. Terror is somewhat different. 

I have a Mr Fantastic all night every night to keep me safe.

Looking at it objectively I’m really quite used to being scared to a certain extent. I’ve been regularly freaking out like this since I was 13 – however this is the first big one since Mr F and I moved in together. 

I’m used to feeling rubbish about the sleeping and the waking and the not having much of a what’s actual reality/what’s not actual reality line there in the middle. That’s fine. Dealable. 

I’m even kind of used to having the odd freaking out night. The ones where you do actually get  scared at everything and you do get worried about things and you do generally just suffer for 8 of the longest hours of your life. Exhaustion is fine, it’s easy and you know what you’re going to get. Not this though. This hurts. It’s scary. 

Im laying on the couch with ALL the lights on. The Amazing World of Gumball on the telly, the volume turned up just loud enough that it’s clearly disturbing my 4 year old but not quite enough for him to wake. Yet. I’m so tired. I’m exhausted. But I can’t let go because that space between waking and sleeping is the scary one. That’s my help but I don’t want to. I don’t want to. 

I feel sick. 

Update: The 4 year old woke up about ten minutes after I posted this. He was awake until half past 4. We got back into bed around then. Last time on the clock I saw was 5am. Up again at 6.15. 4 year old slept in until 7. 

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