poopiness

I am not entirely feeling it, mental health wise at the moment.

I always walk that tightrope between utter lunacy, staying under the bed clothes and being afeared of everything, and what everyone else takes as normality. Some days I am confident I won’t fall. Other days it depends on the slightest breeze.

At the moment I feel like I’m dangling over the abyss, hanging on by one hand and keeping aloft by the power of stubbornness alone.

I have been feeling like this for a while now. Mostly, when this happens I do the best I can and get on with things. I try to make sure that I am not too:

Hungry

Angry

Lonely

Tired

Mostly I try to make sure that I sleep. When my sleep patterns become waking patterns, that’s the slippery slope.

With the rest of the stuff, I fake it to make it. You can’t lie down in the road and weep when your diary is as full as mine and you have a family to look after. Well, you can, but when you do, it’s usually a sign that the basket weaving department beckons.

The good thing about the moment is that I can barely keep awake. My brain just keeps deciding that it is time for me to tune out, and I am falling asleep at the drop of a hat. It is stress related. I know that. But I am grateful for the fact that it is not manifesting itself as endless migraines or insomnia. Falling asleep is a breeze in comparison.

I’m not doing so well on the angry front. I don’t mean that I am writing a lot of angry blog posts. I think the anger about the things I blog about is entirely justified, frankly. It would be weird if I wasn’t angry about those things, and the good things about the blog posts is that they act like a pressure cooker. I get rid of all my rage, and then I feel calm and can decide what, if anything, I want to do.

No. The angry stuff I’m struggling with is the every day stuff.  There’s a lot of irritating stuff that happens day on day, especially if you live with three children, a vomitous cat and a husband who thinks that the floor is the best place to leave dirty socks. Normally I deal reasonably well with these things. I occasionally make a stand. Other times I just ignore stuff and go out for cake. Life is too short.

Other times I just calmly refuse to deal with crap that isn’t mine and make the rest of the family pull their weight. I learned long ago that it is no good driving yourself insane about the small stuff.

At the moment I’m finding it really hard to put that philosophy into practice. Today, after the children had failed to give me their packed lunch boxes, find water bottles, not trek mud up the stair carpet and trailed bits of school uniform everywhere, amongst all the cereal they had thrown on the kitchen floor mostly, I had had enough. Then Oscar threw a pint of milk all over his clean uniform, and I lost the plot.

It wasn’t his fault. He was just being clumsy, and mornings are not his best times. Mostly I can sympathise with that. Not at the moment though. At the moment the slightest little thing is either moving me to rage or tears, or both.

I have a rare day today, a day when I do not have to go anywhere or do anything except the school run. I usually relish these days.  This morning, after I got back from school I sat at the kitchen table and just wanted to sob my heart out.  Everything was getting on my nerves; the sunshine, the bird song; the noise of the washing machine. Everything.

I thought about going back to bed.

In the end I took myself out. I went to the library. I went to the bakers. I took myself out for coffee and cake. I bought myself a mother’s day present. I sat on the pavement with a very friendly cat who climbed all over me and told me a long and rambling tale about how lucky I was to be clambered on by him. I did all the things I would normally do with utter joy in my heart and a deep sense of contentment with my lot.

I still wanted to cry. I still felt all those needles of irritation in my brain, but at least I didn’t have to think about the wet washing, and the stray shoes all over the floor, and the cobwebs, which would only have fuelled the crossness.

The sadness will pass. The irritation will pass.  The feelings of hopelessness will pass. All will be well.

10 responses to “poopiness

  1. the feeling of overwhelm is a truly dreadful one. I sympathise enormously. You are right, it will pass, but it is, still vile.

  2. All will be well. You are right. And when we both have a free day I am going to come and knock on your door and insist we both go out for cake…or just hug you…or both..x

  3. Oh dear, it is so horrible when the mean reds strike. You sound like you handled it commendably this morning, even if that isn’t how it feels to you.

    Hang on in there. One step at a time. Spring (on the mental health front) will return.

    Hugs!

  4. I’m so sorry you’re feeling like this 😦 Weirdly, I’ve been the same since yesterday and I too took myself out today – but not until 4PM which is stupid really because then the buses are full of school kids. In my case it’s not stress it’s the after effects of a brain injury but you described it so well it’s uncanny! I do hope you get a good night’s sleep and feel a lot better tomorrow.

  5. Dear Katie,

    I am a big fan of your blog…you are a terrific writer. Your blog today really touched me, as I just had a bout with the black dog myself. You are right…it will get better, but until then it feels exactly as you describe. You are such a powerful writer. Thank you so much for talking so honestly about this, and I hope it lifts soon. Best regards. Linda

  6. Thank you Linda. I hope you’re feeling better today. Onwards we go. xx

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