Tag Archives: single life

Wrestling the black dog

I don’t really know why they call depression the black dog, I don’t feel like I’ve been taken over by a dog, black or otherwise and I’m certainly not wrestling with it, I have nor the time or inclination to do anything quite so energetic. It’s more like I’m being smothered with a heavy grey blanket that stops any joy and sunlight from getting in, deprives you of oxygen and in turn energy and directs every thought you have into something negative and wondering whether the world would be a better place without you in it. 

I know know there are many people that don’t understand what it’s like to feel like this. I have family and friends that have trouble understanding, but there are also many people out there that do and a lot of them feel alone and very isolated. Which quite honestly, is the worst place a depressed person can be. I only hope that if I write about it, others won’t feel so alone or stigmatised.

I’ve suffered from depression all of my adult life, however I seem to cope pretty well until I have a fairly serious “situational crisis” (as people in the biz like to call it), or I’m sleep deprived. Which isn’t great for someone like me who works permanent night shift. Currently I’m an extremely sleep deprived state. (Also dealing with a few situational crisis, but I won’t bore you with the details). I didn’t get to sleep Wednesday before work and yesterday I spent the majority of the day driving the kids to and from school and work experience, a total of 4 hours driving. I also took calls from the school and therapists, which left me a grand total of two hours in which to sleep. Then headed back to work. Well, last night at work didn’t go as smoothly as I’d have liked and I turned into the irrational teary monster again. I was told I shouldn’t come to work if I’m tired. Well, I’m fucked then. As I’m always bloody tired. Any working mother, single or otherwise gets tired! Knowing that I won’t get much sleep today due to the fact that my youngest has a pupil free day, I’ve had to cancel work. No work, means no pay, which means more stress, which means more tears and less sleep. A cycle which is hard to break. So it’s off to the doctors for me this morning, before I get myself into a right state and end up rocking in a corner somewhere.

So if you know someone that wrestles with the black dog, the grey blanket, or whatever else people like to call the depression and you haven’t heard from them in a while. Make sure they’re okay, give them a call and let them know they’re not alone.

An epic battle lost. 

An an epic battle occurred in my household this week, something akin to Rhonda Rousey taking a beating from Holly Holmes. I was the one who ended up worse for wear. My worthy opponent was left unscathed.

Let me set the scene……

I had come home from a very long nightshift, to find my son had cleaned the house! That in itself was a wonder, I thought the heavens would open and a choir of angels would sing Hallelujah! The dishes were done, the bedrooms and living rooms tidied, the floors vacuumed. I was in complete shock. I knew he’d done it to get his pocket money, but usually that’s not enough incentive do it, obviously he’s completely skint. After singing his praises, and transferring the aforementioned money into his bank account, I took the boys to school. Upon my return, I slipped off my Birkenstocks, cracked a cold Coke Zero and cooked my self some toast. 
With tomato on toast and a Coke Zero in hands, I made my to my very much loved couch. A few steps from my destination, I slipped on what I later realised was spray and wipe which my son had used to clean up his spilt coco pops and milk, on the tiles. Instead of attempting to break my fall with my hands, like a normal person, I instinctively tried to save my Coke and toast (you may now realise how I prioritise my food over my own welfare) I successfully saved both toast and Coke, whilst face crashed into the arm of my beloved couch. It may have brought a tear to my eye at the time, but wasn’t overly painful. So I sat myself down with feet up and enjoyed my breakfast prior to getting to bed, in child free peace.

Upon waking I realised my eye was sore. I attributed it to my being run down and sleep deprived from nightshift and I thought I had developed a sty in my eye. I shrugged it off and pottered around the house preparing dinner, ironing my uniform etc before hitting the shower to get ready for work. It was until I was in the bathroom that I saw what was causing my eye to be sore….. I had a black eye! It looked hideous, just on my right side underneath my eye, but hideous all the same. I thought about attempting to hide it, but after consulting my Facebook family, I owned it and walked into work as if I’d lost a fight to a worthy opponent.

My colleagues took great delight in regaling stories of my foray into UFC cage fighting, to anyone that would enquire about my injuries. My patients stole awkward glances at me, obviously thinking I was a victim of domestic abuse, until I explained my woeful story, luckily it gave them all a laugh. (I don’t think anyone really appreciates the lengths I go to, to make my patients laugh)

 My son apologised, for leaving unwiped spray and wipe on the floor, but as I said to him, I’d much rather a black eye than to have to do housework whilst doing my nights…… so thanks Dean xxx

My exciting week as a hermit 

So nothing too exciting to report this week from me.
BUT……. I’ve successfully transitioned into becoming a hermit. Can you believe it??? Success within a week!! I’ve spent my entire week off at home, doing hermit things, didn’t get to do the Netflix marathons as planned, as I was looking after my boys who have conveniently contracted gastro. That’s right people, don’t be jealous now, I had an entire week relaxing at home cleaning up vomit from every corner of Adam’s room, (unfortunately he hasn’t quite worked out how to vomit in a toilet bowl yet) Maybe he’ll master it in the next 15 years. Dean made it to the toilet, but missed the bowl. But luckily he can clean it up. I however, spent my Monday cleaning up vomit, washing vomit filled bed linen and clothes and tending to miserable boys. I spent a considerable amount of time moving Adam’s queen size bed trying to find an elusive vomit that I could smell but couldn’t see. He’d managed to squeeze an enormous vomit between the side of the bed and the wall. It looked like a Pro Hart masterpiece down there!

The smell permeated the whole house. I used 2 whole cans of Glen 20, then moved on to scrubbing the carpet with what I’ve found to be an amazingly adaptive product, a Sard Wonder stain remover spray. It removes the stains AND it removes the vomit smell and replaced it with refreshing eucalyptus. That’s a win/win for this hermit Mum. I’ll be stocking up on payday.

(The wonder product)

(Dean will kill me for that photo…. and yes, he’s wearing my dressing gown)

But the excitement doesn’t end there. In between loads of washing, scrubbing and deodorising, I played and lost games of words with friends. I know, everyone wants my life, you’re all very jealous.
(What on earth is an Etwee Paul?)

All I can say is Thank God for the one big night of friends, food, football and an amazing fountain filled with Margheritas. Thanks boys, it made my week. xx