Sad On Sad

Been a lot of not good stuff happening lately. Some of it is not mine to talk about but some of it, like my Mummy’s dementia, is.

(I’m not going to go off into a whole thing about dementia now because that’s too big. And too horrible.)

I keep having dreams where I’m talking to someone and they ask me something and as I start explaining or answering them, a great dam bursts inside me, a dam that was holding back all the sadness of stuff currently in my life.

In my conscious life, this dam is a Hoover motherfucker, it is redoubtable, it is immense, it is trustworthy and even certified earthquake and meteor-strike hardy.

In my dreams, not so much.

I feel like my quisling brain gets tired from masking all day, particularly to myself and then realises it’s dreaming so simply lets that seemingly impregnable dam turn into kitchen roll and soggy cornflakes.

Everything behind it smashes outwards and in the dream I start weeping and then I wake up and I’m still weeping but this time it’s actually real.

For a minute or so, I’m panicking and trying to squash back all the sadness, all the loneliness, all the despair.

It seems impossible, it seems foolish to even try.

But as I appear to be the world’s most adept Vulcan, I turn the tide and brick it all up again. The sneak attack by my treacherous subconscious has been thwarted once again, hurrah!

If you saw me in the street, if you chat to me, you would never guess this whole battle is going on.

And that makes me wonder:

How many people do I know who are going through the same battles as I do every single day?

If you are going through the same absolute bullshit, hugs to you.


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