I’m away from home at the mo, and I hadn’t planned on blogging for a while, especially after the drainage that was my last post. But even though I’ve only been away from home for less than 24 hours, just me and Isaac, I’ve already had a lot to think about.

I realise how tired I am. Now, I know we’re all tired. I count my blessings I’m not a member of the 2am Club or the Bad Night Coffee Club; both kiddos sleep brilliantly and I’m going to bed at a reasonable hour. I wake up naturally; sometimes I sleep brilliantly and sometimes not so much. I can’t sleep in; if I do I guarantee I’ll have a migraine. If I don’t get enough sleep, I can usually catch up the following night without problem.

But lately? The sleep is overwhelming. I’m exhausted with every little thing I do and it’s making me feel like I’m being horribly lazy. And I hate lazy. I’ve just been for a walk on the beach with Isaac and although rather windy, it’s bloody gorgeous down there. But after only half an hour, I’m so tired it’s untrue. I’m sat here typing this blog post and can barely lift my head up.

It’s a horrible kind of exhaustion – physical and mental. I struggle to think of words, like my brain is shutting down before I want it to; like my train of thought no longer exists, or, comes and goes in awkward fits and starts. It’s distressing; it reminds me of seeing pensioners in old people’s homes, who so desperately want to talk to you but haven’t a clue how to do it.

Sometimes, the very act of talking is just too much; it’s easier to just be quiet. On twitter and facebook I love the interaction, as ever, but find myself wanting to run away because I feel bad for not keeping up with people. I can barely read the messages and comments, and replying to them scares the bejesus out of me. But I want so much to interact with people because I can’t cope with drifting off into a horrible floaty world on my own. Is this an illness? Is something wrong with me? I’m terrified of the doctor saying there’s something really wrong. And I’m terrified of the doctor saying everything is fine – because if that’s the case, then how the hell do I fix this?

Something is so not right. I don’t know what it is, but I miss me. I miss my energy, my life, my bounce. It helped me get through the day. Having spoken to various awesome friends, I’m ploughing my way though a number of ideas as to what it could be, that’s making me feel like this. Oddly enough, if it’s just old age/getting older (HAH! I’m 31 for crying out loud) then fair enough. I can deal with that. But like I said, I’m ONLY 31. I have too much life to go yet to start worrying about being tired and forgetful.

I’m hoping to make the most of my time down here, I’m trying not to think too much, but only think about the things I need to. Most of the days drift by in a foggy haze. I don’t like that, it’s not my style, but for now I (ironically) don’t have the energy to fight it. On days when I feel clear, feel alive, I wonder if I burn myself out too quickly by savouring every minute of that good feeling. I can’t do that any more.

Since I can’t stay down here, figuratively AND literally, does anyone have any energy to spare? Please?

If you’re bored of hearing about depression, doom and gloom, then close this window and go back to facebook or twitter or whatever. Go back and don’t read this post, because it’s not the post for you. If you’re here to berate, then please go away. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t need to hear it. Not right now. I don’t need that when, once again, I’m barely able to keep my own head above water fighting the tides and waves of depression.

Because that’s all I’m about right now. Swimming like a fucking dog, only barely able to keep my head up, with no sign of land in sight, while I’m battered by wave after wave, while currents pull me down further and further. And all I can do is wait for it to pass and hope I don’t drown before it shifts. Yet again.

I’ve started thinking about pills again. Good ones and bad ones. Although in my mind, there are NO good ones, they’re all bad. The real bad ones, the ones that you would describe as bad, are the ones which in my mind take all the pain and crap away. The ones where, when I take them, I fall asleep and don’t ever wake up again. They don’t have to be anything specific; I have tons of cocodamol from post childbirth, and I’m sure there’s plenty of ibuprofen and paracetamol and whatever other tablets I can find lying around. I wouldn’t take them with alcohol though, because if I wake up, I don’t want a hang over.

Bit stupid really, huh?

But I look at them all the time now, wondering if I took enough then surely either a) the pain would go away or b) I would actually just pass out and stay that way, and not have to wake up.

It’s a way out, isn’t it?

I know you’re all thinking I’m being incredibly selfish now, and you’re all going to berate me for being so stuck inside myself, and think of the kids, and think of my family and how can you be so selfish and by the way did we tell you how selfish you’re being?

I don’t care. Well obviously I do care, about the boys, which is why I want to go. They need better than this, they need someone stable. Someone who doesn’t just want to slip away into a dark dreamless neverending sleep.

They need someone who probably doesn’t want to die, I reckon.

Is this were it this leads? On to the good pill, right? Oh yeah, “anti-depressants”.

You know, the last time I took anti-depressants? I ended up in  mental hospital, full of people saying they wanted to kill me but not really, asking if I would sit with their “friend”, bars on my windows to stop me escaping, 3 security cameras in my tiny room, my luggage searched everyday and especially after visitors and a peep hole on the door so people could look in, but I couldn’t look out. I was on meds for…2 years? Maybe 3? I couldn’t tell you. I was 19 when I was “diagnosed” and lets just say I have absolutely no recollection of my 21st birthday. I remember at one point being on 4 different meds a day.

Good times. Not.

So you’ll forgive me if I’m a little apprehensive about medication, yeah?

So maybe sleep is the answer. I don’t want to take either pill to be honest, but I’m kind of done now, and having been fighting depression for…17? Maybe 18 years? I’m a teeny bit worn down now and couldn’t give a rats ass if you think I’m being selfish.

Today is an effort to merely sit up. To lift my head up. To open my eyes. Maybe I need speed? Maybe I should should consider red pills and blue pills? Will they help me think? Will they lift the fog? Take away the physical ache? Remove the panic that bubbles away almost every day now?

I wondered if I was getting better for a little while, if I was managing it better with the various things I’m doing, but fact is, more and more just feels like it’s going to shit. There is so much going on and somehow I don’t feel a part of it all, no matter how much I want to be. I’m scared to take on PR requests who want me to blog about stuff. The idea of attending events makes me nervous because I forever have a fucking exhaustive role to play.

Who the hell wants someone so unstable to work for them? If you were an employer and knew a person was going though all of this pathetic shit, would you want to hire them? You’d sure as hell think twice, eh?

What’s really mad, is life isn’t shit. I have gorgeous children, I have a husband who loves me and we’re doing our best to stick together as a partnership and not screw the other over, I’m trying hard as I can to get my photography off the ground (and I still can’t see it happening – what the hell am I doing wrong there?), I have a nice car, a lovely house in a gorgeous area…

Yeah I’m so ungrateful, huh?

The point you’re missing is I’ve had enough of me. I’ve had enough of being trapped inside myself, arguing with myself night and day, fighting my own beliefs, berating myself for how utterly rubbish I can be.

Jesus I beat myself up for being so immensely miserable on my own frigging blog. What the hell? It’s my own space, surely I can say what I like, right?

I’m pretty sure that right now, if I could just reach the goals I wanted to get to, then this might be a bit easier. But those goals are unobtainable right now. I Have to wait. Like I have been for so long. Biding my time. I’m always doing that, biding my time. I know I haven’t missed the opportunities; they haven’t quite come yet, and there are other things I have to do first.

Admittedly, right now, I do hope the sleep gets me first.