Some random thoughts....

I have had cause to be grateful for some fantastic friends lately, people who interrupt their own lives and put themselves out to stand as footsoldiers in the battle I wrote about last time.
There are others who are perhaps too far away or with too many other commitments to physically assist, but they are always quick to respond when I give in to the turmoil and reveal a wonky moment on Facebook or Twitter.
Those kindnesses mean more than I can say. When I am sitting alone in the house, struggling with my thoughts, the fact that someone has taken the time to send hugs over the internet, or even just to acknowledge that they have read my words and I am in their thoughts, brings a chink of light into the darkness.
Then there are those who do not respond. Perhaps they too have their own struggles – although I would have thought that predisposed them to responding to others – perhaps they are busy, perhaps they don’t know what to say.
I don’t know. But I can’t help wondering if the response would be different if I revealed I was struggling with a broken leg, or some other physical ailment.
Is it the fact that my difficulties are related to my mental health that is putting people off?
Is there a fear that perhaps it is catching? Or is it that people think it should not be discussed so freely? Perhaps people who sometimes find their thinking a little wobbly should go and hide themselves in dark rooms, preferably padded, until the madness passes.
Or maybe they are just bored of it all. I certainly am. I would like nothing more than to be the life and the soul of the party, with not a care in the world and without the cloud that sees to penetrate every moment.
I don’t know. I think I will never know.
But I do know that I am beyond grateful for those who have shown their support, and I will never knowingly ignore any cry for help I hear or see. Sometimes just tapping out a few lines on a keyboard is all it takes to bring someone back from the edge. And if people can’t be bothered to do that, what hope is there for society?

21 weeks

And yes, I do know it's 21 weeks. But only because we braved the health visitor last week and she told me it was 20 weeks. She also told me baby D was too skinny and we had to start weaning him onto solids, a lot earlier than I wanted to. I don't think I need to spell out how that felt...but if I did it would involve the letters b, a nd d. Another thing I can't get right. You get the picture.
Even leaving that aside, this has not been a good week. I can tell it's not good when I start depending on other people, without actually letting them know I'm depending on them.
Or when I can't even be bothered to explain it all, even here.
You know when you see a small child walking a big dog and they are being dragged along and literally can't stop it? That's how my mind feels at the moment. That old friend anxiety is back, with a few extra guests. I know it's irrational. I know the fact that Miss T has a sickness bug doesn't mean she's going to die. Or that if we put baby D (age almost five months, remember!) in his own room at night he will be fine and I won't go in there to find him lying cold and still. But I can't help it. I can't stop it. And I can't tell you how much I hate that.
I'm great at telling others their feelings are valid. And I know mine are too. But at the moment they are not welcome. Or useful. And they have no place in my life. But I can't make them disappear. And at the moment, I can't really let them out either.
So I'm stuck in no-mans land. Where I spend my days being dragged after that big dog (metaphorically - my dogs are too old and too well-trained on the lead to attempt to drag me anywhere!), my feet skimming the surface unable to get a firm hold. Where I can see trees and fence posts and other things that I could grab onto but I keep missing them or losing my grip.
But I'm going back to work next week. And I'm hoping that will at least persuade the dog to stop for a breather...