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I thought I needed some space to relax, to not think deep and meaningful thoughts to relay at counselling. I thought I needed some space to not have to think.

But the trouble is that everything else expands to fill up the gap and once again I’ve got lost in the process and can’t seem to find my way back.

Over the last ten days before half term 2son gave up on school and CAMHS entirely. He didn’t get up and he didn’t go. I lost any remnants of positive attitude and enthusiasm and eventually left him to it. I sunk deeper and deeper with only the prospect of a half term break to save me.

We had a good few days away, but it wasn’t really relaxing, although I did seem to read an awful lot of books. I spent less time in the pub or drinking at all compared to when I’m at home and only left 3son and 4son to their own devices when I went to bed in the evening.

We came back home and naturally enough nothing had changed. 2son was in exactly the same mood. The house was in a bit of a tip. The three of them started fighting almost immediately. Nothing had changed. Any good mood I’d had from having a break just evaporated straight away.

And I’m struggling to get my head round this, to find the strength to carry on. I’m doing things to avoid thinking, whether it’s going out with other people (and fun is good, don’t get me wrong), reading more at home, trying to concentrate on the work I’ve let go over the last few weeks, playing stupid games or catching up with Twitter. It’s all distraction from looking after me. I haven’t got in front of the Wii for weeks become more and more immobile and unfit, I’ve barely cooked or spent time deliberately relaxing rather than just staring into space. I haven’t written as that would require thinking and feeling. I haven’t done anything about setting up new counselling. I have put on weight and feel it.

I’m feeling squeezed out of life and unable to relax and let go. To the point last night where I had a very weird dream in which I almost ended up having sex with somebody but as soon as I realised what was happening, I woke up in shock. I couldn’t even enjoy having a silly fantasy because it didn’t make sense and I’d have regretted it in the morning had I done it for real. Trust me, it was weird, for me at any rate.

I’m fucked off, and even when I try and get to sleep early, which I need, I can’t do it. But at least I’ve annoyed myself sufficiently to start writing again.

And my mother’s coming on Wednesday. That’s something else to look forward to.