Today, I am really not fucking OK.
All that numbness that was going, is gone. Everything is in Technicolor, vivid shades of pain and despair and loneliness and heart ache.
How loud do I have to scream? What’s the point of telling people to speak up, but when I do, I’m still ignored?
Do you need to go hospital? I’ve been asked that a few times today, when I’ve rang people, unable to stop crying.
No. How fucking stupid. I need people. I need company. That’s all. I just need people to talk to.
With the exception of my lovely Sarie– who has just come of pregnancy bedrest and still offered to jump in her car and drive three hours to me if I needed her, bless her and every part of her soul- most people in my real life seem to suck a bit.
I think I reached a new low of loneliness when I actually offered to pay a friend to have the day off work and come and be with me- just freaking be with me, nothing else, not even do a thing for me or my kids- and it’s still too difficult.
I know, there are a million people online who offer company and support, and I adore you all for that…but I’m sure you’ll understand when I say that I want people I know and love and are already familiar and comfortable with. (I had an interesting conversation the other night with some bloggers over whether people would be as supportive if I knew you all In Real Life- but that’s another post, for another day.)
As my bestie Emma said on the phone to me today- I just really want to people to give a fuck about me. I just really want someone who loves me to care enough about me to see that I am really, really, really not coping right now. And I don’t need a hospital or any more drugs. I need real, physical, practical support.
I have trouble asking for help.
It makes me feel weak and selfish. I always feel like I am burdening people, putting them out.
I don’t ask for help very often. The last six months, I’ve done this on my own. The help I’ve asked for involved taking care of my kids. And I always feel as if I ask a little too much, too often.
A couple of days a fucking fortnight.
But people are busy, and tired, and they work, and all of those things are more important than me, no matter how badly I’m hurting.
I think I’ve been hurting for too long now, maybe? Hurting for too long, expecting too much.
It just breaks my heart. I scream for help. No one cares. I’ve heard it before, so many times- people have their own lives to live, they can’t put themselves out for me.
But I don’t ask often.
Only when I really, really need it.
And that’s now.
My mum is coming tomorrow. And I will hold out until then. I just wish I didn’t have to.