Even if we are lucky enough to be relatively mentally stable, there will always be pinch points in our lives when life is difficult. Tricky situations, which on their own would be relatively easy to deal with, seem to gang up and launch themselves on your all at once. Coping with them is exhausting, and can flatten you.
I am at a pinch point. Life is busy anyway, as a single parent. Add to that I have just split up with the man I love. And that my teenage son is being so rude and unhelpful that he is driving me to tears. And that a woman at work is gunning for me. And that this headache just won't...go... away.
Things are a bit shit. But the glory of getting old is experience; I know that this melancholy won't last forever. I've been here before, and the knots eventually untangle, revealing a simpler, happier time. I'm lucky enough to recognise that, although the day-to-day me is on the floor at the moment, there are some good things going on too: my photography work is stepping up; tween is much more settled at school, and I have a wonderful circle of friends who are brilliant at getting in touch, even when I've gone AWOL.
I am lucky that I don't suffer from depression. My granny was on lithium for most of her life to treat her manic depression, and my cousin has been sectioned twice. I saw what they went through but felt helpless; if you don't suffer from depression, it is very difficult to put yourself in the shoes of someone who does. But I believe it must be like an extreme version of a pinch-point, without the benefit of perspective. It must be absolutely exhausting.
This is a short post. A half formed idea.
I must just shut my eyes for a bit.