Like a pebble

It's been a mixed few days. On Friday Emily leaned on me heavily and like many days, we never left the house. At one point she was adamant the phone was ringing and couldn't comprehend the fact I couldn't hear it. So convincing was she, that 'they' had left a message, I caught myself glancing towards the answer machine when I walked into the living room.  Of course there was nothing there, but that didn't stop Emily believing otherwise.

We did get a genuine call. It was from the residential ward. The Consultant who should be assessing Emily isn't available on the 29th. Our meeting has had to be moved to the following Monday. It doesn't sound much, but to me its another weekend to get through.

Emily took the news ok. I suspect this is due to her now fearing the appointment. Several times recently she's said she won't be able to get better without me being with her. She's scared of going for treatment. But I can't make her better and I truly believe they can and will. Emily does not agree.

Saturday came, and with it another party. This time a 16th for my niece.  There was pretty much a repeat of the anxiety she'd shown before her brothers party.  In the end I made our excuses to my sister over the phone and calmed Emily down. To be honest a part of me couldn't face going either. I am so tired, I'm really struggling to sleep.  I feel I'm on a treadmill and if I don't keep putting one foot in front of the other my world will finally collapse around me. I have blinkers on too, I don't look around. Nothing interests me and nothing gives me pleasure, I just keep moving forward.

Despite a disturbed sleep I awoke with a little energy on Sunday. My son was at his Dad's and Emily seemed nicely occupied. She was playing computer games, surfing, watching tv etc. I decided I might feel a bit better if I did some of the house jobs I'd been trying to ignore.

I was pleased that Emily seemed to be having a better day. I should have known better, I so wanted some time to myself, even if it was doing jobs, I guess I lowered my guard.

It was towards bedtime that the crying started again and the pleas for the voices to leave her alone.

I talked to her and eventually got her to go and get ready for bed. It was then that she asked if she could tell me something. Her eyes were downcast in shame. She admitted that she had cut herself. I asked what with? It turned out she had hidden a spare razor before I'd taken the packet off her. She was crying that she was sorry, but that she couldn't help it.  I told her I wasn't angry, but that I thought she'd had a better day.  Emily admitted that she'd had a better day because she'd cut herself.  It made her feel better, helped her cope.


There have been more episodes today, and they have lasted longer.  She shouts that they are getting her, coming for her while she kicks out with her feet and screws up her eyes.  I hold her really tightly, hoping to keep 'them' away.  I can't.


I can feel myself getting weaker. I am like a pebble constantly being eroded, there is no let up on the waves crashing over me.