The last couple of years have been hard. 2013 reeked of failure and disappointment. And although 2014 and Dubai have been good for us, adjusting to yet another new place is never easy, especially when there is already baggage.
I wrote the post below in June but didn't have the courage to post it then.
I feel now that I can. Because I've sought help and I've come far. I read through the following post with sadness, but also with pride and satisfaction - because I no longer feel like the person who wrote it.
And that's a good, good thing.
16th June 2014
This silence is loud. It is made up of judgement, paranoia, and self-loathing. I'd done well. But it's back, and I'm tired of the fight. I'm tired of keeping up appearances. I'm exhausted and I just want it to end.
This is no suicide note. This is me taking hold of things, my life. Me saying I'm not doing this any longer. It's been ten long years, on, off, on, off, struggling, barely coping, knowing there's a problem, trying to figure it out, hardly recognizing myself. Maybe there isn't a cause. Maybe chemistry was always going to get me to this point, where my daughter is so used to seeing me cry, she no longer bats an eyelid when I do.
I know there's a problem. That's half the battle fought, or so I'm told. It doesn't feel like it. It only feels like my battle is more constant because I am so aware of it. Day in, day out. Some days, I start the day with no energy to string a full sentence together, nevermind face a three-year-old's neverending stream of questions, or make a new friend.
And two pure and innocent children relying on me to entertain them, to keep them happy. They are the only reason I've held it together this long. Staying on track long enough to get through the day. Day by day. Some days, needing to stop and remind myself it's okay to stay home and do a whole lot of Not Much. It's okay to have a mediocre day. It's okay to enjoy the simple joys in life, rolling around on the carpet tickling each other. Dancing in our underwear. It's okay to just be.
But the emptiness is huge. The void is thick. There is no such thing as "just being" when some of the hardest things you do every day are breathing, putting one foot in front of the other, looking into someone else's eyes.