A Day of Two Halves

Part One: Unreasonable Expectations

I woke up this morning and was shaking, I had spent half the night in a state of non sleep worrying about the days appointment and being ridden with guilt at, once again, being the only mother not accompanying their child to the mothers day lunch at school. I'm unsure if the headache that followed was genuine or if I created it to match my physical symptoms to my internal turmoil. Either way it hurt like hell.

My husband stirred, undoubtedly disturbed by my twitching and shaking.

"Are you okay?"
"No"
"Why?"
"I'm scared"

He looked at me briefly through tired eyes and drifted back to sleep.

You bastard! I wanted to scream, Hug  me, love me, tell me everything I want to hear.

I didn't say anything. Partly because I could hear the footsteps of my children on the hallway and partly because I knew, as well as he did, that it wouldn't change anything anyway. When I feel like this nothing anyone can say is right, even if it is I don't believe they mean it. I feel like a child being placated so the grown ups can go about dealing with the real issues and real concerns. I am left feeling resentful and angry, distrusting every word.

Perhaps saying noting is the best course of action.

Soon afterwards I heard my phone softly vibrate. At that time of the morning it could only be one of two people and my heart leapt. Someone Cared.....

I jumped out of bed and grabbed my phone heading down the hallway. Sure enough there were two messages. One to make me smile and one showing concern. Like the rush of a drug the wrenching feeling inside was replaced by butterflies.

I sat for a long time with my fingers poised over the keyboard constructing my response. I realised over time though that I want to simply tell them all the things my husband wasn't awake to listen to and to have them make the soothing noises that I have pre planned in the script I carry inside of me. Craving that the lines be acted out precisely to soothe me like a child being sung a lullaby.

I sat watching all of this playing out and ultimately decided that I have no desire to drain another person to abate my fears for the briefest of periods, my husband sleeps exhausted from doing this daily. I clicked away from the message.

Perhaps saying nothing is the best course of action.

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Part 2: I Don't Belong Here

I have been shown tot he waiting room. a light, airy space with inoffensive music playing in the back ground.

Slowly other people trickle in. A stroppy teenager who is arguing with her grandparents over them forgetting something or the other. A girl, in her early twenties; pale and overweight in leggings and fake Uggs with a boyfriend that possessed the vacant look borne of a life lacking any stimulation.  I look down at myself. I am waring my office attire, I shall be heading into work straight after my appointment. I have a good job, a career even (although it still pains me to admit that I have a career in the financial services industry) two wonderful children and a husband. It's hard not to judge and I try not to but I begin to question what I'm doing here.

Eventually I am taken for my assessment. It is emotionally draining but I remain composed. As the conversation becomes more fluid the nurse soon realises that talking though my mummy issues isn't going to help. There is a common notion that if we just get to the bottom of what caused us to feel a particular way we can begin to heal.

The problem with this is that I am acutely aware of why I am the way I am. Some families grow up lacking the capability to acknowledge or deal with problems. not so in my case. In my family there was an acute psychological awareness. We may not have used our understanding in the healthiestof ways but by God we knew why we did what we did.

What do you do with a case like me then? As with my social standing in life I am in the middle, that grey area. Not a depressive teen nor a full blown psychotic. The answer? They don't know. The nurse must speak to her manager who isn't back for two weeks before they can decide what treatment options there are available so until then I must just wait. Wait to enter a system that I don't truly believe will benefit me or can offer me what I'm looking for.

Oh, and I was done in enough time that I could have gone to the mothers day lunch at school, damn....

Mia Culpa.

My First Blog

Today is a strange day for me. It's the day before I go for my first psychiatric treatment for my illness.

I longed with all of my heart to get help, for someone to take me seriously enough to help, yet now I am on the eve of embarking on my journey I am scared, scared beyond belief. As paranoia has taken grip I have reached out desperately to those I hold dear, who mostly are in virtual existence, but unfortunately as I should have expected these friendships cannot provide me with the level of support I crave. I am unsure that anything can but I think looking on-line for my solution may have been my biggest mistake

The on-line world can be a strange place. Sure, we all know the stories of people masquerading on-line. Those who use their anonymity to get close to and, ultimately, hurt people. But what of those with no such malice, those who like you and I are simply looking to interact with others and find some one that understands us in his crazy little world? Are these as healthy as they seem?

My issue with these friendships is that they lack roots as they formed from a virtual nothingness. Without roots they lack social inhibition. Without the concern that this new friend or interest may then be speaking to your work colleagues, your oldest friend, your family or anyone else that forms part of your reality, there are no barriers.

Conversation flows fast in the rush to get to know one another and form something meaningful. We all too often allow our guard to drop, we show a side of ourselves the world doesn't normally see. Sometimes, as with on-line bullying, this an be a hideous reminder of the cruelty of human nature. Other times, well, at other times it is is heart breakingly fragile and beautiful as two lonely souls try to connect.

The heartbreak comes when you feel you have met someone special and lay bare your soul. This can be intoxicating at first, providing a release so intimate and so intoxicating it could rival sex, for what feeling is greater than one of true acceptance.

The problem comes when this fire dies. A closeness based on a deep understanding, a co dependant release often requires constant validation and this can be exhausting for both parties. There comes a time when the needs of one person bear down too heavy on the other and the friendship becomes yet another burden. The longing for the simple escapism that led them to social networking in the first instance manifests itself. Slowly (or swiftly) one party may pull away. Without the social inhibitions to worry about the effect this may have and without having to witness the pain it may cause there is nothing to stop the person you trusted, that you bared your soul to, pulling away. Worse still, you may have to witness their inevitable transition onto another friendship via the painfully visual honesty that is social networking.

You can be left standing at the window looking in at the party you were once invited to wondering where the hell it all went wrong.