The Road Trip.

The past few days have been a freakish blur to me, therefore I will have to excuse myself for how fragmented my writings will be.

I am not well.

I have not been well for about 3 weeks now.

Here is an encounter of what exactly I remember.


I woke up last Monday and decided to write a book. Not just any book. I had the plot, the story line, how in depth the main character was- in fact I think I wrote a whole A4 page dedicated to the ‘meaning’ behind her first name – I had it all planned out.

So I sacked work off and woke up early and wrote for two days straight. I went in to town and bought The Bible. The Bible was to decode the story.

On Wednesday it all went to shit. I cant remember what I was doing? Something happened and my mood just dropped. Seriously dropped. I was trying to explain to my partner that once my mood goes up, and up, it falls down a million times harder – the crash is always a shock to the system. I was sat on my stairs in my kitchen crying. I couldn’t understand why.

My mood began to decline, and anxiety took over.

On Saturday I wrote my latest post about ‘The Bad Energy’. I remember being so bad the anxiety that all I had been doing lately was writing. And Writing, and writing.


By Sunday, my mind had cracked.


I’d had a complete blow out at my daughter, I was so irritated I just exploded with anger. I screamed until my throat was raw and sore. I ended up in a ball on he kichen floor pulling my hair out.

An hour later I dropped her off at her Nan’s, then I sent this text to the Boy;

“I can’t do this anymore I need to see someone or do something. I feel like i’m at risk of hurting myself or doing something stupid I just cant cope with how bad I feel. I need to tell someone I dont know what to do. I don’t know whether to just go in to the hospital and tell them or not.”

So I set off in the car, but instead of going to the hospital I went to the chemist. I bought some co-codamol tablets to stop the anxiety, anything to stop it I was that desperate, then I set off back for home. Only I didn’t go home. I put my foot down on the pedal. And the further away from home I got, and the more the tablets begun to kick in the more I felt free. So I put my foot down even more, turned the radio up full blast and started to scream to the music at the top of my lungs.


The next thing I knew, I was in Wales. 100 miles away from home.


I can’t even remember what my thoughts were when I crossed over the boarder to another fucking country, but it sure wasn’t ‘what the hell am I doing?’

Flash forward a few hours later, The Boy found out where I was and freaked out. He had to wire me some money over for me to get home because I’d spent my bill money on petrol to get there.

It started to sink in properly a few days later, and I still can’t say why I went so far, on a whim, with no intentions. I must have just panicked and ran. All I can remember is the wind in my hair whist I was going fast down the motorway. I remember the anxiety dispersing in to nothingness. I remember feeling light.

The Boy stayed close by me for a few days after that. We even had a day trip out just me and him on Tuesday and I felt pretty normal and okay. I enjoyed my day. I started to think that maybe I was going to get better and that the worse was behind me. Then it came back that evening and I ended up flipping my lid again.

I’ve slept since, loads. Yesterday I could barely cope to be awake. It’s like my brain and body is paralysed with the Fear, of what I cannot say.

I don’t understand what is happening to me. I want to scream for help but at the same time I cannot bare to be around people. I have shut myself off from the world. I want to be alone.

But solitude kills.

And it has found me.





14 thoughts on “The Road Trip.

  1. Oh no. Hun πŸ˜• I don’t really know what to say, if you need to talk to someone then you know where I am. Anything you want, any time. S xx

  2. I’m so sorry that you are suffering like this. But what’s happening to you right now isn’t who you are, it’s your illness. You are loved. By your mum and your daughter and I’m sure many others. And you are brave and honest.

  3. “I don’t understand what is happening to me. I want to scream for help but at the same time I cannot bare to be around people. I have shut myself off from the world. I want to be alone.” – I know what you mean. I have been stuck in that place for about three weeks now. :/

  4. It could be time to see a specialist, if you’re up for it. I went through something very similar and some temporary medication really helped, especially with the anxiety. There are many people who care about you. Stay safe.

  5. This was me a couple weeks ago. I was absolutely debilitated in my mania. My damn hands to write could not keep up with my ever fucking rambling thoughts. I became even more irritable with my lacks and failures or what I thought failures. I finally took it upon myself to readjust my meds. I’ve been doing that for about 16 years now. I’ve learned to listen to my mind somewhat. Doctors can only think they now what monsters lurk on the inside. I feel a lot dam better now. Thank you for sharing your story.

  6. Not going to pretend knowing how you feel, and I’m not qualified to offer advice. But I do encourage you to keep communicating, in your writing and your relationships; it could be the key to finding the answers you’re seeking.

  7. I understand the writing part… My blog, I may write 4 pieces in a week then nothing for months.. It’s difficult to get out of the lows but the highs are short and electric. At least for me. I find driving used to help along with music and writing.. I always worry when I get I in a car what I may do if the sinking sets in.. It’s a very honest piece and I enjoyed reading it. Can’t offer you advice but I do know some nice places to stay in Wales. Stay strong if you can… If you think seeing someone will help do it. X wish you well

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