So far the last few days have been so stressful and emotional and pulled on all of my reserves that I feel physically unwell. My body can’t control its internal temperature, I’m either sweating or freezing, I ache, I feel fuzzy, all symptoms that usually precede flu. But the fever won’t break.
I have acid reflux so bad, and I always feel unsure whether I’m going to cry, break something or fall asleep on the spot.
My lawyer wasn’t getting back to me and I felt confused by the processes – again I was left to feel like I didn’t matter, that I had no voice, no control and no right to question anything. My nights plagued with nightmares, my days fuzzy patterns and half arsed routines. Always full of what ifs, always torturing myself, always waiting. Turns out he was on annual leave. I have a date now for oral submissions to the Judge. Further to that, I don’t know anything else. What’s the fucking point anymore? I have nothing left to give.
My daughter’s best friend’s mother and I are close but she’s embroiled in a bitter custody battle after a nasty divorce. Unfortunately I found myself accidentally dragged into after the girl stayed with us last weekend. I managed the situation as objectively as I could – my only concern being the girl. I adore that girl like she’s one of my own. But being privy to mud slinging and other peoples bitterness is not my business and I felt sad for the girl, my daughter and having to deal with an unexpected battle.
Then my older daughter bruised and hurt through school sports seemed so vulnerable to me. She’s usually my headstrong independent girl. She was so small and sad. I wanted to offer her all the support and care in the world. My energy directed towards her. Not indulging myself with my court stuff and struggle to be.
Then today my youngest daughter hurt at school, her wrist caught in a door and someone had put glue in her hair. Lots of cuddles for her. And I picked out every strand of her until the glue was free and bathed and washed her hair. No cutting involved. She was so happy. She’s often overlooked as the youngest girl.
I feel I give so little of myself. There is so little to give. I am so twisted up in my anxieties and fears. When I give part of myself it feels so draining. I worry, is it enough? Does it make any difference? Am I better to just be in the background? Do I make things worse?
I can’t provide consistency. I have no way to replenish what’s used.
I saw my psychiatrist today for the first time in ages. I told him I needed my prescription changed. I need better anti depressants. I need more energy and motivation. I need to feel a notch above this melancholy I feel. It’s a gamble to be playing with meds now. But I can’t carry on as I am. I am lost at sea. Overwhelmed and drowning. As a new stress arises – I simply can’t cope.
My body is telling me it feels ill. It feels weak. It reflects my mind. My soul is broken. Getting up in the morning feels so hard, moving is trudging through mud, thinking is sporadic spurts, feelings are pangs of guilt, pain, nothingness, shame, disgust, anger, despair, frustration, loneliness, desperation, fear, and a deep need to be loved, reassured, told it’s going to be all right. But would I accept or believe that anyway?