not all ok

I finally gave in this afternoon and tried to talk to someone.

And I hated it. I felt contrived. I felt dramatic. I felt like I was exploiting this tragedy. I felt like I have no right to need counselling. I felt like I was being a pathetic, self-pitying whinger.

And so I pretty much froze up.

I know they were trying to help. But there's nothing anyone can tell me that I don't already know. I can be my own counsellor. All I need to do is look in the mirror and repeat the arguments to myself:

I know that no one ends their life just because of an exam. I know that I couldn't have helped him when he asked me - it wouldn't have been fair. I know that my teaching, or infertility-distracted lack thereof, would not have been a make or break factor in his decision. I know that there so many other, bigger reasons.

And I also know I would probably be dealing with it better if I didn't have so many other things on my mind.

Which is part of the problem I guess.

Have you ever felt like you just needed to cry? But that you just couldn't get it physically out of you? Instead, you function. I use that expression Medicating Busy-ness.

You write lists. You walk around with a tight ball inside your throat. You find yourself momentarily staring at the wall. You have random outbursts when someone bumps into you in the hall, or you realise you have run out of milk, or you can't find the CD player in the staffroom, like happened to me today.

That's where I've been at. Mostly ok, I guess. But not all. And not always.

Zombie-land.

And no, I don't want to talk about it.