In Blackest Night – Source Code

I came back ‘home’ on Monday for the first time in about two and a half years.  The bungalow we rented is fab and is just across the road from my old primary school.  In all my years living in Scotland previously I knew of the existence of this cul-de-sac and having ran around and ‘explored my home town back in my childhood days, I never ventured into this part.  If it were a video game, the fog/cloud of war would have enveloped this section, blotting this small part of town out of the world map.

Yesterday, I went to see the spot where my Mum and grandparents’ ashes were scattered.  Down by the river Tweed at a part called the ‘Cobby’.  Old, hunched over trees mark where they ‘lie’.  I had hoped a sense of closure may lift, even partially, a ‘burden’ on my mind but instead…I felt nothing.  A sense of emptiness and sadness followed later but the closure I had hoped to get or feel didn’t come.  What is fucking wrong with me?

Today, I awoke just after 8 am to a stinking headache and a body that ached as if I’d gone a few rounds against Mike Tyson.  I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol since my wedding night (December 26th 2016) but I can only describe the headache and general shitty feeling as hungover.

My mobility is terribly limited–the aching knees, legs and back are really getting me down.  It got me thinking about ‘older’ parents – I’m 32 and feel that even people double my age generally don’t have these aches, pains and limitations.  I’m six years younger than my Mum was when I was born–she was far more agile and fit compared to me.  Unable to tie my own laces because of a combination of bad knees/legs and a belly that makes me look like a small beached whale.

Where I should be unwinding and relishing my time up here, I’m not enjoying it.  The physical and mental problems are leaching any sense of joy out of everything.  Depression doesn’t take holidays.  I feel like I should just hide away from everything but I know that I should put myself out there so the kids’ enjoyment isn’t hindered.  It’s really fucking difficult.  It feels like there’s no room in my brain for anything else and every sight and sound is like a sensory overload.  The pain inside my skull paints the picture of a cerebral traffic jam.  Please, just shut the fuck up!  I can’t think.

I have this niggling feeling, planted somewhere in my brain, that this isn’t just depression.  I feel like there’s something else.  I could be wrong.  After all, I can’t think myself better and my judgement isn’t the greatest these days so it begs the question: how well do I know myself?

My head really hurts and I am so very tired.  This shit has to end.  One way or another.