what do they want me to say?

The truth isn't helping. Unhelpful comments and no compassion. Looks of disgust and a punishment rather than helping me productively. Maybe I should say. Hooray you cured me with your amazing wisdom I'm happy as Larry even though you've locked me up and definitely my suicidal ideation has suddenly stopped. I'll try that one because apparently coping isn't enough. Delaying, writing, acknowledge thoughts, engage with help. None of them good enough. Would you even believe me?

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Elusive Recovery

How do you get better? How do you recover? Do you suddenly wake with hope? Do you feel differently? Do you just notice after it has happened? What is recovery? Is recovery real? How long does recovery take? Is it even possible? How will I know what recovery looks like? Why does it take so long? So long I gave up hope. What do I need to do now? To end this nightmare forever. I don't know how much longer I can bear this. How can I continue? To face another day. It feels like this will never end. They say it happens slowly. That recovery is possible for me. Do they really know that? Can it really be true? Is recovery possible? Is there a flicker of hope? Or is it just a fairy tale that's not truth? Each day that passes by, Hope slips further away. I feel this is life forever. The tunnel light seems dimmer. No hope, no light, just darkness forever more. I cannot see past this. The pain overwhelms me. I'm deep in a pit of despair. Recovery is a ...

Coming home

Pretty much exactly 5 months after my last church attendance I returned today. Since my last time I had only seen 3 people from the congregation face to face. People who live in my town. Who I've seen at least twice a week for years, I'd seen so few of them. Children had grown. Newborn babies now starting to move. Barely bumps now earth side. There were a few new faces too. We decided to go today because we had been invited for Sunday lunch by a couple from church. The sweet, kind hearted, godly doctor who was on duty the weekend I was first taken to hospital. I didn't give myself a choice this morning. I'd set up an excuse not to go for lunch already. Our car was broken. It was true, it was, but I knew it would be fixed in time to go. So I got up and we went. I'd spoken with my counsellor about not feeling it was my home any longer. That I wasn't part of the fellowship anymore. That physically I didn't know where to sit. Our usual seats, middle,front, with ...

Flat

Flat, deflated, fed up. Going through the motions. With the children I do what's needed. Clothes are clean, if not always put away. They get fed. Sometimes I try and make a memory for them by making lunch a face. They do homework and reading most nights. I break up fights. They get to school on time. It is just going through the motions. I love them. I am proud of them both. I'd rather be in bed, or under my duvet in the chair. Alone. The pets get fed and cleaned out when they smell. They are some company to me. They don't expect anything more of me than feeding them and ensuring they have somewhere to poo. I can manage that. I'm becoming more sluggish. I just pause and can't get started. I don't know what to do. I try to do a little more in the house, to relieve the burden on my husband and my sense of guilt. My motivation is poor. I do not leave the house unless it's for the children or for an appointment. Even for appointments I some times rehears...

Motherhood, Madness, God and Me

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