So, I’m partly blogging today because I’m being asked too (you know who you are 🤣) and I guess the whole point is to put my feelings out there not just making a good read so fuck it I might bore ya but whatevs 😂

Its 11pm and my brain is going fucking nuts. 200million mph. I feel alright, like my mind feels happy. But it’s a happy anxiety, happy anxiety ALWAYS means sad anxiety is on route. Fml.

Day started off bad, broken nights sleep as usual I don’t remember the dream but he was in it so it’s a bad one. I felt really anxious waking up and pretty low. If we hadn’t had a day out planned I 100% would of stayed in bed.

A positive part of today was we went on a trip with the whole house, we went to a kids theme park which was paid for by them. The coach was paid for by a charity! It never ceases to amaze me the generosity of others and how many kind souls there are out there!

Waiting to get on the coach my eyes filled I thought I don’t want to be doing this shit today, I don’t want to socialise today, I hate everyone today. But I did manage to snap out of it and have a good few hours with the kids!

Then manic anxiety kicked the fuck in. Got home had a coffee and I was buzzing about, dancing making dinner. Then I cleaned (my turn to clean my floor) then I did a 30 minute work out.

Yes, I suddenly decided to work out. If you know me you know this is strange, genuinely don’t know what’s become of me 🤣 I thought maybe it would help me sleep!

Got the kids to bed and here I am fucking wide eyed full of beans! Baring in mind I could barely walk this morning I was so tired. My chest is tight too which I haven’t actually had for a good 2 weeks. My neck is tight too, usually that comes from tension. I can’t think straight at the mo, too many fucking tabs open I wish it would chill out.

My hormones are a prick, my period keeps changing just seems to come and go when it wants to. Annoying as I’ve always been consistent my whole life no matter what contraception I’m on or even after the kids. That’s a sure way of your body telling you its stressed.

Anxiety is also a prick, sometimes I’m full of worry and it’s a real panicky feeling. Or I have manic thoughts and energy like now.

Why can’t I just be normal? Ok I don’t really know what that is but jeez give me a break man.

I posted a question on a forum I’m on tonight, I had been wanting to ask it for a while but I guess maybe I didn’t want to know the answer? Or I thought it was stupid. But the reactions tell me it wasn’t!

So, pretty much every day perp used to “loose” things. Now I know we all misplace things occasionally, and men and children are hideously bad at looking for them, but this was alot.

He could loose… his keys, his wallet, his phone, his shoes, a certain item of clothing, a piece of paper, a tool, the joint he just rolled 1 minute before or even the beer he was drinking at the time.

It would go like this.

“Wheres my…..”

Within approximately 30 seconds to a minute it would be my fault. If I wasn’t found to be looking instantly that was it I was in for it.

“Your always fucking touching my stuff, why have you moved it? Have you hidden it? Why aren’t you helping me look for it? Oh that’s because you don’t give a fuck, on your fucking phone as usual. You care more about your fucking lash shit that me, look at the fucking state of this place look at this shit everywhere, if you weren’t so fucking messy I would be able to find stuff”

And what would be happening during this time is the house would be getting torn the fuck apart. Whole draws emptied onto the floor, shit thrown off the sides, cupboards ripped out, bin tipped upside down. All whilst tearing me a new fucking arse hole verbally because I moved it.

Even when I would find such item in a place where I never would of touched it, it was still MY FAULT.

As soon as I heard that phrase “where’s my” my heart would be racing, I would stop whatever I was doing to find it as quick as possible to stop the madness. I remember sometimes I would be working and he would come to the window mouthing at me asking me where such and such was and it was fucking terrifying. He would keep coming out staring at me with those evil fucking eyes mouthing abuse at me while I was trying to work. Its brought a tear to my eye remembering that fear.

Occasionally I would stop work to help look too.

I asked if anyone believed he did this on purpose and the majority believe yes. It seems a common tactic, an easy way to have me scared shitless and on edge without too much effort. Win win ay?

Sometimes it went as far as to turn physical just because he had lost something and it was my fault. You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve had thrown at me. This was like his fav thing to do!

Phones, books, remotes, cups, kids toys, washing baskets, shoes, tools, his wedding ring, car keys, car stereos, once a car jack (when pregnant) clothes, ironing board, chairs, coffee tables, THE FUCKING BIN YOU CUNT. And probs more.

Sad story about the coffee table.

Towards the end I used to just go downstairs and try to sleep during an argument because I couldn’t be fucked, to be honest I was normally booted out the bed and told to fuck off anyways so off I would go!

I always knew he would follow me, could be 2 mins later, or 2 hours later then I would be woken by him for more arguing. Quite a few times I would be half asleep on the sofa and he would run down the stairs into the living room and grab the coffee table and launch it at me, but I learnt.

I learnt to come downstairs and arrange everything in a certain order to protect myself, or to stop as much damage as possible or slow him down. I would move the foot stool to the side of the wall and the coffee table to the opposite side of the wall. Being here meant they weren’t in his walk way to me, it did mean he would get to me quicker but the speed and strength at which he could launch that coffee table was a far bigger threat than his hands. I’m incredibly surprised I didn’t suffer more physically from it to be honest but my reactions are quick and I can dodge pretty well!

I would as always be in either my dressing gown or coat too with shoes on, pockets filled with essentials in case I needed a spell outside LIKE A FUCKING DOG.

If you ever came in to my old house and looked at all furniture and walls you would of seen how much shit was thrown, this is also why we didn’t have many doors.

The sound of my house being ripped apart was horrific. Just sitting there listening to things being snapped, thrown against walls, thrown down the stairs fills me with pure dread, that definitely seems to trigger something in me my heart keeps skipping a beat reading it back.

It horrifies me knowing how scared I was to think how my children felt. They often dodged flying objects too. Then watching me clean it all up asking me why Daddy did it.

What an awful, awful way to live.

That makes me so sad, I cannot describe to you what a horrific atmosphere there was in our home. It just wasn’t a home at all.

Yesterday my boy got upset, he said he feels like he ditched his friends at his old school, my girl then agreed.

I obviously reassured them, then he said,

” It’s ok mummy, I know that you tried for as long as you could to keep us there. We know you did”

Oh my heart.

I tried my boy, mummy tried so hard to keep your home and your friends.

The 2 strongest little souls I’ve ever known, even if they do piss my off daily I love them more than they will ever understand.

Now I do finally feel tired.

I’m actually too tired for the song too, brain can’t think anymore!

Until next time,

B xxx