I have been living well below the normal functioning level for so long it’s become normal for me. Even having a shower in the morning is a huge feet which a lot of the times I haven’t been able to accomplish. I don’t brush my teeth often enough and I don’t brush my hair very often. My depression has pulled me so low that I prefer to spend my days in bed, I feel tired all of the time and swing between emotional and feeling nothing. At night it is hard to sleep but I prefer the night even if I have nightmares because at night no one expects anything of you.

I have been very isolated and at times I have felt extremely lonely but been unable to reach out for help. I honestly believe that this was going to be my normal life from now until the day I die.

Gradually I have noticed it’s become very slightly more easy to get up in the morning, and yesterday I was able to last most of the day without having to have a nap, I was also able to make phone calls and put preparations and plans in place for when I move out at the weekend. Today because of having a bit more energy I decided to actually go swimming. This is a huge accomplishment for me. It means seeing strangers, facing the world and doing physical activity. I am really proud of myself for doing this today. I know that there’ll continue to be good and bad days. I don’t believe that I am magically cured but I do feel that I’m getting some energy back.

I am still very much in limbo in terms of my future plans and feel in the long term that I don’t have a lot to look forward to. There is still a huge amount of pain in my heart that I can feel like Jagged pieces of glass. But for today I swam. Today I felt a little bit more normal, and for that I am happy.


The thing

After my meeting with my lawyer and subsequent post, I felt a bit more confident with proceedings and although S has been pretty angry with me and in almost denial about what is fair, I realise objectively that he’s made assumptions about me and made decisions and had private chats with his family all the while thinking I’ll just go along with whatever and when I don’t, I get treated like the bad guy. It’s almost almost a form of gaslighting.

I’ve dared to consider what my future might look like and how I’ve been someone’s wife for so long I’ve forgotten who I really am. Perhaps there is hope in me finding peace.

Of course, as with all things, nothing is smooth sailing.

I’ve had a long chat with someone and although i blog openly and honestly about everything in my life, right now, I really can’t. And it’s horrible. I haven’t even talked to anyone about what’s going on. I’ve struggled with the idea of writing anything the last few days because it’s incredibly annoying when people refer to something ambiguously without being open about it.

You just have to trust me that right now I can’t elaborate on it. But it has involved a lot of overseas calling and triggering conversations. I have this terrible weight on my shoulders and I’m questioning myself constantly.

S is away this week so it’s just been me and the kids. After a long night of calls (time difference) and follow up emails I’m absolutely shattered and distracted. But I’m trying my best to be there for the kids and as usual maintain a tidy house. Cooking elaborate dinners with love for the little guys and ensuring every day they have clean clothes and good lunches. Not different from any other mother really. But this depression is still crushing and the further isolation around this issue is really dragging me down. But when I consider it overall I think it’s best I’m just honest about everything, deal with guilt and other tucked away mixed emotions and let the cards fall as they do.

I have been subject to abuse and degradation for too long. No more. And not when I know other people are getting hurt.

So forgive me for this annoying post, I will talk about it openly later on.

To add to that I have an appointment with my lawyer this afternoon and my son will have to come with me. It’s unfortunate for him but she’s very busy and we need to follow up from the last conversation and subsequent paperwork. I have to deal with this and I have to learn to count on myself from now on. By Xmas I should be 10x stronger and ready for the new year with some better ideas about the future.

I just need to get on with these gigantic hurdles at the moment and hope I’m doing the right thing.

A possible reality….

The badly decomposed body of 35 year old Penny Insane Was discovered today after a Property Manager entered the property following the unpaid rent and lack of response from the 35 which she regarded as ‘unusual.’ The 35 year old single woman was found in her bathroom, with a coroner today confirming that she’d slipped in the shower and died within hours. Although suggested the body had lain undisturbed for a period of up to three months. 

The ex husband of the deceased said, ‘The children and I hadn’t heard from her for ages so assumed she was out partying and living the high life. She was selfish like that.’

Friends expressed their surprise, noting she hadn’t posted on Facebook for a while but also commenting that it wasn’t unusual for the deceased to have periods of ‘isolation’ and not respond to messages.

Neighbours didn’t see anything unusual, although claimed the woman tended to keep to herself and wouldn’t have noticed whether or not her car was there.

Police said it wasn’t common (although not unheard of) for someone of that age to be left for months without anyone noticing. 

One person had commented on her Facebook page, ‘unremarkable in life, forgotten in death.’

Ok, that’s pretty grim, I agree. But still, I begin to wonder about the possibility. I didn’t have to have the endoscopy today, it was just a consult. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. I actually got to meet the specialist – ask questions and express my fears, to which he was very warm and reassuring about. But it means a wait time, where I can no doubt conjure up the most terrifying images! I guess it occurred to me last night that with no next of kin, if something went ‘wrong’ it would be a long time before anyone actually noticed. Particularly as well as I haven’t mentioned this appointment to anyone. I will do as I did today, drive in, but if I’m unable to drive I’ll get a taxi home. Unfortunately today, when I arrived at the hospital after a really bad, but drug induced sleep, I took a few diazapam. When the endoscopy didn’t happen, I felt pretty stupid for taking the meds. I drove and met S and my daughter, as she’s recovering from a bug and had breakfast in a cafe with them. It felt awfully strained, like I was imposing on them. Despite the tiredness and overwhelming sense of anxiety, S didn’t make any suggestions to me or offer for me to head to the house. But I already know that he’s not bothered about me nor will he make any such suggestions. At least I’m getting used to it now!

So a day was wasted and I missed lectures. But at least I got home and slept. Although my head is certainly pounding now. It has occurred to me that with no next of kin, and no one really invested in my care, I could very well be one of these cases in the paper that are becoming increasingly common.


Storms have ravished and flooded the area we live. My husband left work at my continued ‘nagging’ yesterday because I knew he would be stranded in the city if he didn’t leave soon enough. There is one direct motorway to our town which became impassable by noon because of flooding. The other motorway requires a detour over a highway notorious for accidents and once thats closed, which would be the case; he would be stuck in the city. Public transport stopped running first. By lunchtime the emergency services were suggesting people in the city stay over. By 3pm people that lived in the city were offering their houses, emergency accomodation was being set up and overnight parking was being offered for free – a rarity in any city. Besides all of that chaos, driving conditions were treachorus, and my husband isn’t the most patient driver and his V6 sports car isn’t exactly made for water drenched roads.

Fortunately my children are all down the road, and my car is an AWD, better built for the conditions. Our home is on a mountain so no chance of flooding and I know that we have safety measures in place. 

However, at this point in time my PTSD symptoms are off the scale. The dark weather, the storm, the unpredictable scale of the storm, the networks going down, potential power cuts, my husband being stranded or getting killed on the way home all seemed suddenly too much to bare. I felt vulnerable. When I sent him updates from the emergency centres and land transport, I know he thought I was being paranoid or dramatic. He had ‘meetings.’ Work had to be done, conference calls made. But I was isolated. I’m a practical thinker, I prefer for things. I train the kids for emergencies, all contingencies, fire, earthquakes, illness, if they get lost. What to do, who to call, where to go. In the midst of a disaster I’m calm and cool.

But when I tell my husband, shits getting serious, you need to get back, the depth of complacency ignited my anger and showed his overall lack of understanding of my current position.

I live both in the current and in the past.

What’s usually a 30ish minute trip for him took him 3 hours. In that time communication was difficult because the networks weren’t consistent.

He arrived home tired. And I naturally went to get the kids because it was unfair to send him back out again.

The rain lashed down. Unforgiving. Unrelenting. The kids of course oblivious to the fact we were essentially cut off now. Home our only destination.

My mood felt sour. Like the weather. Stormy, menacing, angry. Unforgiving.

My husband worked from home today, most people took that option, the roads still a mess.

The rain still pouring. Still black outside.

I slept badly last night. I often woke unsure what was a dream and what was real. I felt restless and uneasy. 

This morning I felt exhausted. My body has begun to ache. Getting up feels physically hard, like I have flu. My muscles and bones feel weak, they shake, they struggle. My mind is spacey. I think things and wonder if I’ve said them out loud. Sometimes I feel like I’m watching myself.

I feel irritable. Then I feel nothing.

I feel worthless. I have no fight.

I have no emails from the UK overnight. I’m powerless. 

I’m fearful.

I feel sometimes like I’m 14 again. Terrified, confused, alone, wanting to reach out but not sure on the words I need to express myself. I don’t recognise myself.

I feel clumsy, ugly, repulsive, heavy and tired.

My husband suggested lunch today. I imagined going into a cafe and everyone staring at me. The whispers, the looks. They would know I don’t belong. They would see this clumsy circus freak ambling in.

We went to a DIY store for some mundane article. I couldn’t make it out the car. The tears eventually came. Big fat wet tears of weakness, of misery. To redden my eyes. To fill the car with an air of misery. To bring attention to my self pity and to wallow in all my ugliness. 

The rain still beat down on the car. The weather itself matching my own unrelenting misery. Causing misery and inconvenience and sheer shit for everyone around.

Then a furniture store for a table. Where I grew tired of the obnoxious sales lady. And my voice and demands were made. Brief, stated. My objective made, I got what I wanted. A brief triumphent. But who was that? Was it reminiscent of my old self? Do I exist in there? Is there a glimmer of hope?

Home again and I crawl into bed. 

I’ve tried emailing my lawyer – no reply.

The weekend now – so nothing will be done.

I am both here and past. I am but functioning on a thread of sanity so fine that I’m not even sure I’ll know when it’s worn out.

Sometimes I think my husband gets it. Other times he’s a stranger – is it me projecting? Or am I in an existing in a world so different now I can only watch from behind an obscure window.

The storm is here. But it won’t end in a matter of days for me.

My screams are stifled. My body stuck in thick mud. My mind so tired. I’m disorientated and I’m losing my will.


I feel in a sense of limbo. I had told the psychiatrist that I wasn’t sure if my mood would be affected by the anniversary so it would be best to meet within a couple of weeks again to review my situation objectively. Because I take managing my mood disorder seriously. Low and behold I get an appointment card through the post – redirected, they STILL haven’t updated my change of address details at the end of March. I suppose I should be grateful I received anything at all.

I feel my mood had slumped overall. Physically I don’t feel myself. The skin on my hands is torn open and poses a constant risk to infection, no amount of creams has helped and I realise a dr visit is due but I just can’t find it in me to see her. I know my cholesterol requires medication it’s pinged up twice in blood tests as dangerously high and my husband pokes at my moles frowning convinced they’re growing into a small village. For the grand finale my period has arrived in style this month. Painfully heavier than it has been for a long time. Sometimes I find my menstrual cycle can be quite triggering.

A few nights ago I had this terrible nightmare where I thought I had awoken quite sleepy and my own husband forced himself on me. Then I awoke for real a bit confused and upset.

Yesterday evening we had guests over for dinner. The whole day leading up I was a terrible anxiety driven bag of nerves. People in my home? Where would I hide? I couldn’t disappear if it got too much? I had to rely on diazapam to keep me calm. I worried how I could keep my happy, hosting face on, when i all wanted to do was crawl into bed.

The female guest last night asked after my mental health, how I was doing. We spoke very matter of a fact. She’s expressed her discomfort before at talking about anything to do with my mental health or my past. So I’m impressed that she at least tried. We talked like we were discussing discount deals at the supermarket. She commented I should go on a walk with her. I smiled. Chat over. Our husbands were outside drinking beer. In my head I felt like saying, a walk? Some days I can barely get out of bed. My husband had to take my own kids to school. You know I dreamt he raped me the other night? I think I’m losing it. I’m stuck in a perpetual nightmare at the moment. I’m holding on as best I can. I take my pills, I TRY to see a psychiatrist. The only reason I’m not breaking down and crying to you is because I know you don’t want to hear it. It’s ugly and it’s inconvenient. So let’s drink our drinks and pretend everything is normal. I’m used to it, I have my four children. I’m used to swallowing it all down.

The evening, don’t get me wrong, was lovely. But I was thoroughly exhausted. Today I slept most of the day.

I realise I’m still in this shitty month. And I’m apprehensive about starting uni in a couple of weeks. Medication does blur the mind somewhat and make it harder to think. But then so do mood swings so I can’t win either way. Also commuting into the city and being around groups of people. Talk about out of the frying pan into the fire. It’s definitely going to be a sink or swim outcome.

But the fact remains im miserable. Lost in old memories, bad sleep, feeling vulnerable. I desperately don’t want my mood to dip any further. I feel I’m dangerously on the edge and its place I can’t visit again.