So since this morning, things have been more or less utter shite. I’ve spent the day either staring at nothing, or raging at myself for said staring and generally being utterly miserable and a pain in the arse to be around. So much so, that I decided early this afternoon that I’d had enough, and put myself on the bus to town with the intention of demanding I be admitted to hospital. I even got as far as the car park outside A&E. But remember the little voice I mentioned this morning? The one that always thinks a different plan would be better? Up she piped again, to tell me how ridiculous I was being, that I was just looking for attention, what would it achieve anyway yada yada yada……..so I left. Dad had taken the kids to the golden arches for lunch (Hubby was away at training all day), so I rang him, he picked me, and we took the scenic route home by the coast. Once home, I proceeded to hide in my room for pretty much the rest of the day. Thanks to the combination of sleepy and xanax, I conked out for an hour or so, so that passed some time at least where I wasn’t thinking. Then it was back to alternating between raging and staring before dragging myself out for a walk at about 7 so as to avoid bedtime with the kids (I cannot be around them when I’m like this, I’m not the person they know – it’s too confusing for them and makes me feel even worse). Really earned my mammy stars today, didn’t I?
|Even the quiet down by the river failed to work it’s magic today|
So here’s the thing. I’ve finally figured out what the guilt is making me feel (apart from guilty, obviously). I feel like an infection. That’s why I want to be alone, and why I want to be in hospital. When I was there last year, there was a girl on my ward who was incredibly angry, all the time. She exuded anger, the atmosphere changed when she was in the room. And now? Now I’m her. The kids had a blast with Grandad today. The only time there was tension or giving out was when I appeared. I feel like I’m infecting my house. I keep being told that I’m better off at home. How so? How can I be better at home when my very presence is a problem for everyone else, never mind how much that adds to the already hefty dose of guilt I feel?
Hubby told me this evening that he’s proud of me for getting through today, it’s been one of the worst days yet of this particular episode. I’m not. I’ll be proud of me the day that I stop being a black cloud hanging over this house.