Sea of sadness

Yesterday I felt really like I might be losing it. The ongoing therapy sessions, the pending issue in the U.K, long hours with the kids with S working and networking, a reaction to the depo I had making me feel really ill, the nightmares, the panic, the typical stresses of Xmas (a separated family, finances, etc). Over tired, over whelmed, at one point I got so furious with a driver for not indicating at every roundabout I lept out of my car and flew into a rage, complete with waving arms and banshee screaming.

When S finally got back from work – felt like the slowest day ever, I was already in my car waiting to leave. Desperate for freedom, desperate for space to breathe. 

I got back home and was greeted by music so loud by my neighbours that my whole house shook and I couldn’t hear anything above the noise. I knew I was probably going to twist myself into a million knots, so made a last minute decision to drive over to where we used to live. I miss the beach, the friendliness.


Plimmerton- beautiful as ever.

I was gripped with guilt for not taking the kids, they’d have loved it. But frankly I needed time out. I needed to be able to drive on my own schedule and not worry about the needs of anyone else – for once. I soaked up the atmosphere, couples and families. And enjoyed a meal of fish and chips.

When i returned home, the noise had thankfully stopped, so I was able to crawl into bed and read until sleep consumed me.

This morning was cold and wet. I didn’t have the kids with me, so the peace and lack of demanding was nice. I could easily have stayed in bed but I had an appointment to see my therapist – a much needed appointment.

I felt so tired and drained I didn’t know how to articulate my thoughts and feelings to her. She said I was too busy over thinking things and not feeling enough. But I’m able to recognise a deep rooted sadness in me, that frankly I don’t have the time or energy to work through. 

I was able to clarify succinct thoughts and feelings though that really helped;

1, I don’t begrudge S working the long hours or the networking. I don’t want the career, with the arrogant suits to enter into a pissing contest with. I enjoy looking after my children – I just need my energy levels back and focus.

2, I’m feeling fragmented. Overwhelmed and lost. The UK case is complex and until its finished I won’t be able to find closure.

3, I did enjoy my date. I liked being seen as a woman, an easy companionable evening with no complexities or anxieties. Despite the family death the next morning which may have hampered our affections, I can take that night with me and all that I enjoyed. 

4, I am sad. I am very sad and in that pain – which is part of the healing process, I feel vulnerable. I feel more vulnerable than normal. So I have to expect emotional outbursts. I have to be more aware of my body than my mind.

In essence, my therapist told me it was ok to feel like this. I guess I needed it quantified and I needed permission. 

My thoughts are so long and complex and so full of self loathing. I took a bath the other night because the kids were getting too much and I just needed some time, especially as my body feels so sore. I must have been in there for 10 minutes when all hell broke loose. My youngest daughter threw a remote at my son and in turn it cut his head. As I rushed out the bath to care for my son and clean his wound thoughts of, this is my fault, I shouldn’t have taken a bath filled my head. My daughter was devastated and genuinely so remorseful she was more upset than him! I cleaned him up and we cuddled and watched movies and I gave him all the love and care I had. A fleeting thought of, I wish someone could do this for me. To care, to reassure, to hold. It caught me off guard, to wish to feel nurtured.

The rest of this afternoon has been tedious, Xmas shoppers, parking is hard, just popping into the chemist and it’s busy and takes ages. Everything feels just really hard. I grabbed a sandwich (from a really busy gas station) and felt every cent that went into filling up my tank. Trying to maintain some sort of budget over this period is really hard.

Then to collect kids. And there it goes all again. Same routine. 

I don’t even know what I need (aside from a holiday!). I don’t know how to help myself. I don’t know how to become a better mother. I don’t know how to feel less lost. Most of all, I don’t know how to let this sadness go. I don’t know how to grieve and allow this hurt it’s place.

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