Someone to Talk To

For some reason, Friday's are always a very difficult day of the week for me. The worst day of the week in fact. I know, it's crazy, for everyone else it's generally the best day. Not so for me. Friday's are mostly spent in a constant state of tearfulness (again, I do believe I have created a new word).

By the time dinner came round this Friday, I didn't have the energy to cook, so Mr. Domino's did it for us and I began to feel just a little bit calmer, and really quite optimistic. Who can possible be sad over pizza, especially when there's no cooking to do! Well apparently, that would be myself. Oh my goodness, what an absolute bloody loser, honestly, I am, I know it, please do not try to humour me by saying otherwise.

Pizza arrives and in we all dive, as you do. It was all going so well. I had one slice of each pizza and a few potato wedges on my plate (because it would be rude not to). I ate the Ranch BBQ slice first; I can confirm it was rather yummy. All was well until, I looked at my plate and had to decide what to eat next. I was now left with one slice of pizza and the potato wedges. Now, even I know this shouldn't cause any issue whatsoever, but it did. I found myself sat there, staring at my plate with my anxiety building because I can't make the simplest of decisions! Cue a mini meltdown and me declaring through sobs, 'I don't know what to eat next!' and it is genuinely causing me distress. Meanwhile the girls are sat munching away and  wondering what kind of lunatic they have for a mother. My sane self, is telling my crazy self, that this is the single most ridiculous thing to be getting upset about, but my crazy self is giving my sane self the finger and a few choice words.

Miss. D helpfully asks what I have on my plate and suggests I go for the potato wedges. Five minutes dithering time and I eventually ignore her advice and went with the pizza.

Anyway, long story short, I was still a sobbing mess almost an hour after eating. When I finally ceased the tears, Miss. L stopped hugging me and went to do her homework. She really is an angel.

What did I do? I looked for help. It's not normal or healthy to cry over pizza and wedges, even I know that! And so I did something I never thought I would. I called the Samaritans. Before you jump to any conclusions, no I was not suicidal, but I did need to speak to a grown up, and preferably a grown up who understands.

Emmy, was wonderful, she listened as I sobbed down the phone and thanks to her asking the right questions, I finally realised just how ridiculous the number of things I'm trying to deal with at once is. She spent twenty minutes on the phone with me, just listening mostly and in that time I calmed down a lot. I told her my counselling starts this week and she offered me a call back to see how I got on. That meant so much to me. That someone I've never met, cared enough to want to offer to call again. Obviously, it won't be Emmy who calls, but that doesn't matter, it's the thought that really counts and knowing I have someone I can talk to anytime I need to.

Will I call them again? Yes, I'm sure I probably will. My support network is limited and I don't want to burden the same people with my annoying, depressed self. No really, even I find it annoying, I just don't have the luxury of being able to escape my head, I'm not about to keep on at the same people over and over. So yes, if I find myself inconsolable over something so completely silly again, I will absolutely call them and I won't be ashamed or embarrassed about it. That's what they're there for.

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