Alone in the dark

I had an early start today and it's not over yet. At 2.30am I woke and immediately remembered what had happened. I thought I might have those few minutes of oblivious confusion, but no. For two hours my eyes stayed open and I just lay in bed saying "don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...." until I finally gave up and went downstairs to watch TV. Instead of watching trash I dug out and old journal and started to write. I say write, I mean scrawl. My good pens are all dead (oh, the irony) and there is something a bit weird about writing about completely heartbreaking misery in pink and purple sharpie. It helped. I felt empty. A bit like a Dalek - mostly just a tough impenetrable empty shell with a tiny little voice hidden away deep within saying "help". Mr P went to work, slightly late, a little hungover, but still oblivious: telling me to rest up and saying he hoped Bubba and me would have a nice day. I heard his car start and cried. I thought that my "telling my mum and dad" drama from the previous day (I don't think I blogged it - I don't need to, other than to say Im their only child, we are very close, it was beyond hard) 3 hours of tears, TV, google, tears, pleading, angry words, tears, sad words, promises. In a more rational moment I thought I had probably better see a Doctor. By some miracle the Wife of Satan was not on reception and it was a nice lady who managed to interpreted my hysterical sobbing and said "So you need to be seen today?" The GP also managed to comprehend some kind of meaning from my garbled "it's just...I don't know...I can't...I'm sorry..." so after a few "um...yes..." and that weird wincey eye thing that people do when they see a three legged dog struggling to do a dump she sent me on my merry way with a diazepam and a sick note. I didn't think the day could get worse. It did. Mr P was so depressed when he got in - turns out it was because he fell out with his work friend, he nicked his ruler or something equally not important in the grand scheme of shit. After dinner he said "Why haven't you mentioned Bubba? Why are you talking about holidays? You seem really depressed. What was up with your Dad, he looked a right miserable bastard tonight!" I always thought I was strong. Now as I sit with a packet of diazepam, Im not so sure.