Tomorrow, we’re going to the Puu Isles for five days. Tom wanted Annie to visit family, but she wouldn’t go without me, so we’re all going. Despite not really wanting to go until now, I now can’t wait. I just want to get away from here, and to get away from my own mind. I’m putting the Puu Isles on the pedestal of distraction because I desperately need something else to think about.

I’ve had a headache since Wednesday; I’ve had anxiety butterflies for the last month; I constantly feel sick, my skin feels as though it’s crawling with bugs, and my stomach keeps contracting with the shit that it’s trying to expel. My thoughts are constantly about Mum; the things she said, the things she did, the things she didn’t do and say, and now the guilt that keeps creeping up on me. I quite liked it being buried; I was handling it pretty well, at least in my relationship with her. Now it’s out there, and I feel as though I’m chasing butterflies in the air and trying to put them back in the net that I let them out of.

I need to ring her; it was Mother’s Day on Sunday, and I still haven’t even spoken to her. I have to call her, or she will think there’s something wrong, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I keep reminding myself that I am an adult, that I am strong and that she doesn’t have to affect me any more, but she still does, and I feel too fragile at the moment to deal with her negativity.

I am running on nervous energy, and I can’t sleep. I’m exhausted. I feel as though I’m in a constant state of panic, as though I’ve had a huge shock and nothing I do relieves it. It’s times like this that I wish I hadn’t stopped drinking because I need the release that alcohol would bring me right now, but I just have to sit with this pain and not try to find a plaster to put over the top.

It might help if I could just crawl into bed and cry it all out, but I can’t. I never get any time alone, and I don’t want to have to explain anything to the kids. I really do think that if I start crying, I won’t be able to stop. Instead, I’m doing what I’ve always done, and I’m holding them in.

The worst thing is that I can feel that there’s more stuff to come out. I stopped yesterday after four-and-a-half hours of non-stop purging and writing because I was getting too angry; had I stuck with it and allowed myself to feel the anger and gone with it, I may have got it all out. Now I feel it’s halfway there but stuck in a place I’m not used to. It’s uncomfortable, and it’s not going away.

Today I have a ton of stuff to do ready for tomorrow. I’m going to put music on loud all day and sing at the top of my voice until it grounds and balances me again. The butterflies are still escaping from the net, but I’m going to let them, and I’m going to stop trying to catch them.