My bad head

This weekend has not been good at all:

Friday started well, I shaved my legs (nudge nudge), called work to say I was feeling better, made cottage pie. Drank prosecco, booked train tickets to Edinburgh had an empty washing basket and then WHAM...

I lost my temper in a way that would make a supermodel diva cower in fear *TRIGGER WARNING*
I shouted, screamed and escalated the situation beyond any normal levels.
I hit my head repeatedly against the wall, then I took to throwing my back against the door in frustration and anger.

MrB quite rightly got very fed up and left me on my own in the lounge.

I cried, I had some dark thoughts about things that I can't say here but will say to my GP.

Saturday and Sunday I have felt quite detached from the boys, like concentrating on their needs wasn't possible - but messing around on the internet was *shakes head* 

I have scared myself in a few ways this weekend, but I'm scared that I'll become my nasty, detached, unloving mother not just now but in the years to come.

My dad says that she changed as me and my eldest-younger-brother needed her less (starting school). 

I'm terrified that I'm simply not strong enough to do this for the rest of my life, that I'm not strong enough to keep fighting this battle and that I'm going to ruin MrB and the boys and have no one left. 

I'm heartbroken and I really hope that the medication swap works because in the short term it sucks, big time. And I'm not drinking for the foreseeable as my outburst was probably because of that. 

However, lovely twitter helped me with a Mr Garrison impression, hmmm-kay? Totally showing how when I think I'm down and my brain is on the shit heap, the #pndchat network helps me so so so much.