I didn’t sleep last night so apologies if none of this makes sense. And it is most likely going to be rambling dribble because, lets face it, that’s my style…
Today I cannot shake this awful heavy feeling. I feel like I’m walking with all of these boxes on my back. They are piled up and mocking me and make it impossible to see anything other then them. And I’ve only been home a couple of days.
I want to give up. But I’m even more scared of what will happen if I do. What will happen if I stop opening any letters? Then I won’t know about the court summons. Then I won’t have to make an application for homelessness. What will happen then? I guess the first I will know about it is when the bailiffs are at the door. I know I can’t do that but I don’t feel like I can keep doing whatever it is I am doing.
I want to bury my head and pretend we are a lovely normal family. I want to pretend we have a nice stable home. That I am a happy mummy. Not the mummy who woke up to unpacked boxes and shouted at her 3 year old. He was being curious and he was looking for a particular book and I shouted and sent him to bed. The first words he heard from me today were awful cross words. I just wanted to go back to bed. Go and pretend it wasn’t happening. I have no energy, no patience, no ‘happy’ left anymore. And all the time I’m thinking ‘ but the worst is still to come’
How will it feel when I am stuck in B&B or some temporary place fighting for the council to house me? It’s never going to end.
I feel stupid. Like I’m making such a fuss – that no one else can see the reasons I am so upset over this. I am failing to provide my children with a secure stable home. It’s almost one of the ten commandments of parenting and I can’t do it.
I don’t have any support here. I don’t know who I was expecting it from. Maybe my family? They have their own lives. And I think they are fed up of listening to me bang on about it. They don’t ask about it and I can’t ask them to help. I’m too scared to see them some days because I can’t trust I won’t cry and beg them to make it all better.
I just want to give up. I just want one person in the stupid council office to acknowledge that this is a nightmare for us, that this feels like the world falling apart. But the won’t. They will imply I’m being difficult by asking again. They will make me feel like I’m lucky they are even talking to me. And I will nod and smile and politely thank them as I add yet more feelings of worthlessness to the growing pile.
And I will play all these feelings through my head when sleep is impossible.
And I will cry locked in the bathroom when I feel like I cannot breath.
And I will regret the snappy tone I use with my babies and hate myself even more.
And tomorrow I will probably be back to normal. Tomorrow will be an easier day. It has to be.