I remembered one of the reasons I started this blog. It was my therapy. Casting out my negativity into the ether. Getting rid of my pain, sending it into the void of the internet.
January 2012 has been the crappest month I've ever had. One bad thing after another sent to try us. We keep pulling through but my grip is loosening.
I watch myself as I tap away on the keyboard diligently writing reviews and other posts. I wonder why the hell am I trying so hard to post photos for Project 366. Photos that I am sure aren't interesting to anyone other than myself. I'm losing a bit of myself with every passing day, yet I don't want to let anyone down. Or maybe in continuing with the charade of normality I am holding on to the last thread that is keeping me from imploding.
We've been trying to cope with some problems, which aren't mine to discuss here. But I've felt tested. I've questioned myself. I'm my own toughest critic and although I know in my head that I'm not doing anything wrong, my heart tells me I'm coming up short at every hurdle and should do more to make things right. I am truly spent: emotionally and physically.
My daughter, who is struggling with her exams and her life at school, has got her school report. Some teachers have been really sympathetic with Ella's situation. Others have been utterly thoughtless saying that she should be disappointed for getting a grade B in a mock exam. A 'B' is bloody brilliant from someone who says that school makes her feel like crawling into a corner. What a great way to make a vulnerable teen feel worthless! So much for pastoral care.
Meanwhile the wonderful world of anonymous cyber-bullying has reared its ugly head to persecute my daughter. Reading through what some sad and evil little troll has said to my beautiful girl has made me sick. Worse still, it's someone who knows her personally. Every fibre of my being wants to write a response telling them exactly what I think of them and invite them to take their issues up with me face to face. I'd love to tell them what a cowardly, pathetic little stain they are, but as an adult you can't do that. Instead I've done the grown-up thing and print screened the vitriol that is inciting my child to commit suicide because no one would miss her.
I'm a believer in signs. Always have been. If my husband buys me flowers and they wilt the next day, I worry that that is a representation of our relationship somehow. It's stupid but I think it stems back from when my depression was at its worse and I'd honestly believe something dreadful would happen unless I could count to 100 before the next car drove past my bedroom window. Our hamster, who I actually and ridiculously adore has keeled over and died. She is lying in a crumpled ball in her bed and I can't deal with it at all. It seems just so symbolic because she was healthy, fine and friendly. Now she's dead. My mind is in overdrive trying not to latch onto it as a sign or a dark prophecy of impending doom. Plus I'm going to have to tell Kizzy that I somehow managed to kill her pet whilst trying to care for it. I can't help but think that everything I touch turns somehow to shit.
I hope that by pressing 'publish post' I'll exorcise these thoughts. It'll empower me to take some control back. I feel like I'm failing, I'm falling and yet life goes on around me. I carry on doing what I do with a painted smile on my face. I wish the clouds would clear, just for a while. Just to let me collect myself. To let me deal with things and make it all better. I want to make it all all right for the people that I love most in this world. Not being able to do so is crippling me. I'm frustrated and it's opening up a part of me that I thought I'd put away for good. That is scaring me.
Oh to have a magic wand and make everything right for everyone. In the absence of the aforementioned wand, I'll just have to man up and get on with it. I don't have the luxury of self pity.
Normal service will resume immediately...I've got a review and a 366 photo to post.
