Monday, 21 March 2011

In A Black Fug

I have to confess, I had a bit of a meltdown yesterday and it's left me feeling a bit downhearted.  Not about my writing especially but just about life in general.  I have two children, a husband, a house and a job, I'm also a part time unpaid secretary for my husband's business. And I'm trying to write. 

No matter what I do, there are never enough hours in the day.   My kids are involved in all sorts of sporting activities after school and at the weekend.  They are popular children and have lots of friends.  My husband plays golf.  And in my spare time I, well I wash, iron, cook, clean and most depressing of all I pick up the used detritus of their everyday lives that they just can't be bothered to put away because that's what's mum's there for.  I have tried to train them, honest I have, but the only thing I have achieved is to turn myself into a nag.  A friend of my son's summed it up on Friday when he said that my youngest son reminded him of his cat - that only had a memory of about 3 seconds too!

I know I shouldn't complain, I know that my life is charmed compared to others, I know I'm  not living in Japan or any other disastor ridden country.  I'm not poor (I'm not rich either) but you know what I mean and I have my health and a family who loves me (when I'm not shouting at them that is).

Normally I can cope with a busy life, it may dishearten me from time to time but it doesn't completely floor me.  Perhaps it was because my husband had kept me awake most of the previous  night with his snoring (he should be thankful that all the sharp implements are kept downstairs) or it could be this combined with the good old hormones.

Men may laugh at hormones, or blame them for everything that is wrong with the woman in their lives, but I think they should be just damn grateful that them don't have to experience them from the inside.

Yesterday my husband did the best thing he could. He made a tactical retreat and took himself and our sons out of the firing line.  What he actually did was leave me feeling lonely, unloved and unloveable, but lets face it, he wasn't going to win either way so on reflection it was the right thing to do.

And whilst I felt as though the whole world was painted black, deep down I knew it would pass, and I would wake up soon wondering what all the fuss was about.

Depression is a terrible thing and I thank God that whenever it crosses my path it is only fleeting.  When I think of people like Marianne Keyes who have or who are still suffering from long term depression I admire them enormously.  The tenactity just to keep living when every day is surrounded by the black fug is a strength that can only be commended.

So moan over, sorry to bore you all, but sometimes you just need to get it out of your system. 

Now, back to real life, where did I put that broomstick?

1 comment:

  1. Living in that black fug is horrible. I find blogging about times like that quite therapeutic, when I feel I can share, as when the words are out there it seems to lift something inside of me. Hope you felt like that too.

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