Dealing with it all.

It’s 03.24. I’m starting to feel a little better. I’m not just as suicidal. My thoughts of SH have passed, I’ve spent basically all day watching House. Literally. I’ve watched an entire season in a day. My mates have seen a happy cheerful Lost-Soul who balances stuff on her head, but it’s distraction. It gives me something to think of other than the depression. My leg’s really sore. I might go to the Out of Hours tomorrow, because I don’t think I can go to Ireland with it like it is. It’s like stabbing pains. And it’s progressed to both legs. It’s worse in my left leg and I honestly don’t know why. I’m lying with 2 pillows under my knee to try and keep it elevated. Dearbhla is sleeping. I’m glad she’s OK. I worry about her all the time. I keep thinking I’ve annoyed her, or done something to upset her. People say I haven’t, but I can’t shake the niggling feeling that I have. This episode of House is so upsetting. His best friend’s girlfriend dies because he got drunk, and he does basically anything to save her, including putting herself in a coma. I’d do anything for my friends. If they asked me to do something like a kidney transplant, or even something as simple as fetch something from the shops, I generally do it, because they are my best friends, and I don’t want to ever do something to upset them. They play a song called “Passing Afternoon” at the end of it, and it’s one of those songs. I used to sit in the middle of my room, get drunk and sing this song when I was upset. I hear it and remember everything that happened, the good and the bad. All the rows with James, the times me and mum laughed together. The few good memories I have of me and my mum are permantley lodged in a spot in my brain. I can remember sitting in the sofa watching Pretty Woman with her, sitting in the car going around and round the roundabout. But they’re limited. Mum changed. When James started drinking more she became more withdrawn and didn’t want to sit with me. I wasn’t allowed a proper hug. I think I got maybe 3 proper hugs in about 4 years. And one of those was when I was leaving. The day I was leaving will haunt me forever. The look on my mum’s face when I got out of the car and on the bus. Walking out of our house with my suitcases. Those are the memories I want to be able to forget, but can’t. One of my worst memories is coming home from school one day, and finding James crying on the stairs. He was suicidal. Mum and TJ were out, and I had to try and talk my stepdad back into living. Giving him a reason to carry on, when quite frankly even I couldn’t see one. That was when I was in the midst of a bad depression. I was about 15, and trying to talk your stepdad out of something like that, when you can’t even do it to yourself is not something that you learn to do in school. You don’t get a lesson in ‘Dealing with Alcoholics’ or ‘Dealing with Depression.’ Yea, we got stress management, but it’s not exactly the same. You come home from school every day and you don’t know what state your stepdad is going to be in. Whether you’re going to have to hide in your room all night, or whether you’re going to get sang at and everything’s going to be fine and dandy. But you know deep down, that one little thing can make him snap. Everyday is a constant battle to try and find a reason to go on. You think things can get better, which is why you haven’t gone yet. And you do leave, and you wonder why you didn’t do it sooner. But things aren’t as easy as they seem, and I didn’t know that when I made the decision to move. Many a time I wonder did I make the right decision. And I still haven’t come up with a valid answer.