Rainy Days and Wednesdays

I can’t think straight. I’m so tired. I’m more than tired, I’m exhausted. I’m struggling to hold myself together. My head feels unable to care for my body. My body is a step too far in its demands to be bathed and clothed and presented in a respectable manner.

My thoughts are scrambled, I can’t cling on to any one functional thought. They are a mass of black clouds today – fighting for space, colliding aggressively and, not abiding by any type of forecast or predictability , are liable to unleash a violent torrent of rain, the sort quite capable of causing drowning, at their whim.  I feel the tears at the back of my eye sockets, the fight is not in the letting go and allowing them to come, it is in holding them in, trying to make them adhere to the social rules of engagement – impressing on them that it is not okay to spill down my cheeks the moment someone – anyone – asks me that question, the ‘ how are you’ question, the one that requires only one answer, ‘ fine thanks ‘ . When all I want is to breakdown in someones arms, all I can do, is seek to avoid all contact for fear of getting my wish.

I’m a mess and I’m distressed by my messiness. I’m depressed by my depression, I’m anxious about my anxiety, I’m exhausted by my tiredness. Horror has set in. It’s in my head and in the pit of my stomach. I begin to search and ask questions – ones that on calmer days, I will see there is no sense in their asking. My pain becomes incomprehensible on days like today. Depression is a Force and there is no reasoning it away, but I want to try.

Much of my exhaustion comes from upholding the pretence of sanity. It’s 4pm. In one hour’s time I will be a Mother and collect My Boys. I will take some comfort from being in their presence, and I will do my best impression of functioning. I’m getting really pretty good at it.



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