Sleep really is the answer to all my problems.

I've had two nights of drug induced sleep, and I'm not saying this works for everyone, but I feel great. This week, my week off from Sing and Sign, I've had a cold, a sore throat, an ear infection and generally felt like a piece of chewing gum on the bottom of someone's shoes.

Dylan left for Keefe's on Wednesday, and I spent the day cleaning - just the usual household chores. I could have done something wonderful like walking along the beach, going into Northumberland, read a book that enlightened me, but life still goes on and my floors really did need cleaning.

So one Wednesday night I combined two tablets I've been prescribed to help me sleep, but were not working on their own and bam! - sleep!, 9 hours of sleep. No dreaming, no flashbacks, no pondering on the minutiae of life at 3am in the morning. I woke yesterday morning and found that I had some energy, something I've been missing in the mornings. Once again I chose to ignore the wonders of outside and did the ironing, yeah I know, but I like ironing so it was a bit of a stress buster for me.

The day passed with my ear ache recurring and I cancelled a Sing and Sign class, it made me feel crap, so to boost my mood I changed the beds, cleaned my windows and scrubbed the bathroom till it sparkled. Then I run a really hot bath, took my drugs and read for an hour... no sleep. I read for a further hour and then I woke up this morning at 3.30. Turned off the light, put down my book and then went back to sleep. I woke again at 7.15 and since then I've not stopped. But I did sit down just now with a bacon omelette a cup of coffee and listened to the radio! Kairos moments!

Sleep oh Sleep, where art though sleep!

Its been three weeks now and Im running on empty. I go to bed at a sensible time, following a nice bath, I dont eat before I go to bed. I have a cool room, and Im fairly relaxed. I read, nothing too thought provoking or taxing on my brain.

And I fall to sleep!

All well and good, yes!

No!

Somewhere between 1 and 1.30am I wake up. Im wide awake, not just sleepy awake that comes with needing the toilet or hearing a strange noise. Not even dream/flashback awake, recovering from burning again. But wide  awake. I stay wide awake till somewhere between 4.28 and 4.32, yes somewhere between those four crusical minutes my brain shuts down and Im asleep again.

Which would be great if Dylan didnt wake up between 5.45 and 6.30.

Im running on empty, Im crabby, Im resorting to drinking - although its not so much a resort as a way of living now. But Im making mistakes, stupid ones that impact on my daily life. Not being able to find the keys, that I had put in the door. Forgetting to call people back, or calling people back when I had just spoke to them. Or the best one by far, walking round the house all night being quiet so as not to wake Dylan and being able to assist my neighbour at night time because Dylan was in bed. Then going up stairs to say goodnight to him, and remembering that he was at my mum and dads.

Im going to make an appointment to see the Dr. Its not normal, its not how I want to be, I want a tablet! Several nights of tablets. I want to wake up with the Disney birds and butterflys chirping me awake! It used to be like that, why did it change?

Heaven

Just had a conversation with Dylan and his friend Michael about Heaven.

Apparently you go there when your dead. Right!

You can stay there for 100 weeks and then come back if your really good.

You meet your family who is deaded and only really angry people go to bad heaven!

Looks like I might be going to bad heaven!

Thanks Steven. Im so far away from this its like comparing chalk to cheese.

But it did make me laugh!

Tap, Tap, Tap

Hello the world.

This used to be something I did to try and figure stuff out. It used to be a way of venting and procrastinating and generally keeping in touch.

My counsellor says I should write things down, so I'm writing. It may not get better than this, but I am going to attempt to update the last 9 months, some will be diary entries I wrote in the hospital, some will be stuff I wrote since.....since the second fire, since hospitalisation, since depression, since getting better....

That's a lot to blog. But hopefully some of it will make sense.

Ahh the Summer Holiday.

They come round each year and each year we look at them with trepidation, joy and lets face it panic.

Six weeks of your child at home, six weeks of entertaining them, of cleaning up after them, attempting to appease fights "Im not your friend anymore" and ensuring that they still have a routine of sorts, eat well and dont drive you into crazy mummie screaching and threats of "Your grounded till Christmas".

We have had some lovely play dates, which generally ended with a very tired Dylan screaming that he hated who ever he was playing with and "I never want to see them again". Joy!

He has had friends from the estate in to play and wreak havoc on the house.

Sometimes its a joy and yes, sometimes it isn't.

We visited Shaun and Joji

and went to a farm - Walby Farm which was fun, especially getting lost in the Maize Maze.

We climbed hills

Chillaxed

and Rock Scrambled.

It was a lovely couple of days, but Dylan was wearisome and made things hard. Why doesnt he appreciate days out, or play dates. I question if he gets too much, are we spoiling him with love?

On our departure he wouldn't kiss Shaun and Joji goodbye, I knew this was really because he didn't want to say goodbye, but it made me so mad. He seemed so unappreciative of all that had been done for him, so rude! I found myself in the car reading him the riot act "There are lots of children who didn't get to go to a farm, or weren't taken out, you don't appreciate anything, that's it, next week you get nothing, no trips to the park, no friends over" - yadda, yadda.

He fell asleep, tears staining his face and I screamed at myself "He's Five"....

Its not getting better

Ive not written anything since I wrote my good bye list. It was simple to do, but since writing it Ive cried - yeah, finally cried, without alcohol, I cried in Bridies councelling session, snot streaming tear gasping crying.

But now I just get drunk, I've done a lot of that over the last couple of months. Silly drunk, angry drunk, bloody stupid dangerous drunk!

I'm snappish and angry, I want to scream at myself because I was doing so well and now I feel like I'm not. I feel like I'm drowning in my own self pity. Consumed by heat, I want to burn away to see what is left, who is left.

I told mum yesterday about looking at my burns and feeling repulsed. Repulsed at my own body. Not in a "god I'm fat", which I am, but in a "that makes me feel sick to look at, to touch!" We talked about her experience on the burns unit when she had her cancer, she seemed to get it, but then she looked at me with what seemed "Shame" in her eyes. "Shame" I'm not bigger and dealing with this better? Shame I cant get on with life and accept what I am, I don't know... but it was "Shame!"

Saying Goodbye.

Bridie has suggested that I write a list of all the things I lost in the fire, to say good bye, to mourn them. Its not definitive but

• George - ugly though you were, I loved you
• Letters from Keefe, Jayson, James, Darren - the ability to recall memories from these letters.
• Pictures and mementos from travelling
• Wedding photos, my dress, wedding file, cards, memorabilia of the day.
• Diaries from school
• Dylan's diary
• Records, tapes, CD's, DVDs Music that helped me define special times and memories
• Jamie's picture "on the beach"
• Jewellery - from travels, friends, my wedding rings, opals and pearls.
• Dylan's memory box, hair, hand prints, scan pictures
• Shane's boxes from Iraq.
• Things mum gave me from Nana and things from her which were supposed to be passed down and treasured.
• Skinny jeans - I've never found a pair that fit so well. My wedding shoes, the silly dress I wore to Bev's 40th Party, the memories it evoked.
• Christmas decorations, especially the ones for Dylan's first Christmas

The list could go on, the insurance claim is about 9 pages long to date, but its not the "stuff" that gets used daily, its the stuff that I looked at and it evoked a smile, a memory, a flash back to somewhere else, that isn't here and isn't now!

Tired

Down, Down, Down, I'm just sleeping now. Sing and Sign has finished. The term was hard, but I got through, found movement a problem at times but dredged up the energy to do the classes, limited though they have been and I got through.

There is stuff to do and I'm totally aware of loosing control of the little control I had, but I cant find the motivation to do. Dylan has gone away with Keefe and I'm on my own.

I'm really glad he has gone away, am I allowed to say that! He whines at me and I scream at him, he wants to play and I'm bored. He wakes at 5.30 am and I'm so bloody tired.

Tired, that sums me up. Tired of me, tired of life, tired of trying to be strong, happy, capable. I'm tired of being tired.

I'm just bloody tired of it all!

Snow - I hate snow

Its snowed now for what seems like forever. The cold seeps into me and makes my leg and arm hurt like hell. Its pins and needles and bone weary. I feel like I do nothing but talk about how much I hurt or ache. Stuff is happening and Im missing it!

Mum was crying this afternoon because her back ached. I asked if I could help, knowing I couldn't, but wanted to try. She just sat and cried and I held her. I still cant cry, I want to cry but am scared that if I let go I wont be able to find my way back.

I went to see Dylan's nativity at school. I couldn't see him most of the time, but I was aware as I sat there watching this scene unfold before me that I should be feeling something, there should be pride or happiness, but I'm detached. Its not that I'm not present I just feel uninvolved. I need to talk to Bridie as I feel as if slowly I'm eroding away. Becoming nothing more than wounds and pain. Not great pain, like before just constant aching pain that never seems to go away. Nothing matters, nothing takes me totally out of this ache.

Do you know me?

Who am I? What do I like?

I cant sleep and I got up so not to disturb anyone in the house. Sat in the dark, the sky grey and a strange light spreading over the room it dawned on me that I have nothing that says who I was, who I have been. If I left tonight with all that I own now and went to somewhere where no one knew me how would I show who I am.

Sitting in the blackness I try to find who I am. Who is Shannon, my only defining role is that of mummy! Is that all I am?

Trying to get out of the doghouse

In an effort to remove myself from the dog house I got up early this morning, did the ironing, tidied the kitchen and entertained Dylan, ensuring he didnt go upstairs and wake mum or dad.

I felt really tired after doing this, but I kept myself going, out of pure spite really. I know I was wrong to stay out and mix alcohol and tablets, to not let them know where I was, but Im 40 not 14 and I have to have the ability to make these choices.

That said, I do feel like and idiot for the way I behaved, who the hell was I trying to impress, it certainly will have made an impression but possibly not the type of impression I wanted to make.

Drugs + Alcohol = the doghouse!

On the upside, things I can do this week that I couldnt do last week.

• Walk up and down stairs without pulling myself up on the banister
• Wash and dry my hair.

Yeah for getting better, now how do I change my thinking!!!

In the Dog House.

Oh my, last night I went round to Rebecca's house. The pretense was a book sale. I behaved like a total idiot, flashed my burns, as if it was something special, something to be proud of!

I eventually rolled in at 3am and totally pissed mum and dad off. Definitely reverted to the sixteen year old child I have been.

This morning I fled the house with Dylan, finding refuge at Rebecca's. Then I ran to Tracy Scotts house, it was the first time I had really talked to her and I really felt that we could become friends. She's really open and what you see is what you get.

Returning to the house I got read the riot act. Selfish, thoughtless behaviour. Dad had walked the streets thinking I was lying somewhere dead. It was stupid of me to mix alcohol and tablets, selfish, stupid, careless....

Keefe took Dylan away for the night and I retreated to my bedroom, introspective and hurt. I behaved like an idiot, shamed myself, worried and angered my parents - who the hell am I?

Reiki and Sympathy

Im finding mornings really hard. Getting myself up is hard enough, but getting Dylan up, doing breakfast and getting him to school is quite frankly rough! The School is only a couple of minutes walk away and getting there is ok, the walk back though hurts.

In the play ground this morning one of the other mums was really upset. Post natal depression struck and she ended up in tears. It was so nice to be able to offer sympathy and support to someone else. A hug and an understanding smile meant so much.

David had organised for me to have some Reiki sessions with a friend of his, Nina. Totally unaware of how it works or what it is, but I felt wonderfully relaxed.

Mum and I are still treading on egg shells, but at least it got rid of some of the tension that has been building up. Dad is still questioning everything I do, or don't do. And whilst I'm finding it totally frustrating I understand that he is doing it because he wants me to motivate myself, I just don't want to motivate myself today. Please don't make me!!!

Rowed with Mum

Well mum and I finally came to a head to day. We had a bloody awful row. It started off with me bad mouthing dad because he constantly getting on my back, mum had said that he was moaning at her for the amount of time I spent in bed. 5 minutes later we were screeching at each other, I was leaving (where to I had no idea) she wanted me to leave because I was self and she had been doing everything for me for the last 8 weeks and I didn't appreciate how hard it was on her.

She cried, I screamed, we eventually hugged. But the crux is I'm selfish. Can I change this thinking - Bridie, over to you!!!

Taking Bridies advice on board

This weekend I spent it in bed. Dylan was off with Keefe for the weekend. The first weekend he has had him since I came out of hospital. I didn't justify why I was doing it. I just got a book and read.

I did try and help round the house where I could. But most of the time I would attempt to do something only to have to ask for help, because I was unable to complete the task. But I managed to shower and get dressed all by myself. I had to lie down afterwards, but I did it.

Today the pain seems higher than over the last couple of days. But I think this is because I've reduced the omnimorph down and Im trying to only take the tramadol when things get bad. Also now the big stuff is healing I seem to be feeling all the little aches and pains. My ribs are killing me and I haven't felt these hurt before.

But today I managed to do my own hair. It wasn't pretty, but I got it tied up in a pony tail. Triumph!!!

Bridie my Guru!

Had a fantastic session with Bridie today. She seems to help me put my thoughts into order, restructuring my thoughts from destructive to positive.

Ive struggled with being at home, feeling claustrophobic and like I've reverted back to being a teenager. But she's helped me see that of course I'm going through these feelings. I have lost control of everything.

I'm 40 years old and only have the things I have because my dad has bought it for me. I'm dependant on my parents for everything, physically, mentally, financially. I'm grumpy and irritable because I'm tired and sore, I feel guilty because of the pressure my parents are under and therefore I snap at them, at Dylan. I resent this but its not my fault, it is the situation I'm in.

Things for me to remember over the next few weeks.

• Pain is good, but its not nice!
• My body will react to temperature over the next couple of months, I should be aware of this because intense heat/cold will cause intense pain.
• I have to acknowledge that things are and will be sore, and not expect too much of myself or my body.
• Things I can say instead of "I'm fine", which I'm not and I cant keep putting on smiley face. "Today is not a good day". "Nerve pain is setting in and its sore". This means I'm not lying to myself, but I'm also acknowledging its not easy.

Sometimes I want to curl into a ball and not have to deal with anyone. I try and motivate myself but end up tired.

Someone has kidnapped my nice child

and replaced him with a bally monster.

Seriously, did he always whine this way. All I hear from him is "I Want", "I Need" I cant deal with him, I cant....

Home is where the heart is

But its not my home!

Ive been home two days, mum and dad have been great, but Im so really pissed off and angry at everything. I hate having to ask for stuff, for clothes, for money to buy Dylan a magazine, for toiletries, for bloody f**king tampax. I hate not being in control of when I get up, when I sleep, what I do.

And I buggering hate the fact that I'm behaving like a ungrateful princess who cant have her own way.

Today I messed up appointments. I was supposed to go to the RVI to see Sophie, but also had a dressing appointment at the Drs. Dad asked my why I couldn't get myself organised. I cried and run away.

Nothing seems to be going right since I came home. It wasn't supposed to feel like this. My wounds hurt, I'm short and irritable with Dylan. I'm sniping at mum.

Annette came round and it was gorgeous seeing her, but I was tired and strained. I just want to sleep, which I could do in the hospital, but at home I have to be up, doing stuff. Dad had another go at me about not getting stuff sorted "tough love" he calls it, I just feel like I'm not doing enough for them. I want to go back to my little hospital bubble!

Tuesday 28th October

I'm going home tomorrow, or is that today! The last couple of weeks I haven't written cause it was all pretty much the same stuff. But I cant sleep and this hospital room seems to be shrinking. The daily journey pretty much goes like: Breakfast, get up, exercise, get tired, sleep, lunch, exercise, feel depressed, get tired, Dinner, wash and get ready for bed.

The days have been broken up by bad TV, numerous dressing changes, baths, and visitors, lovely, lovely visitors. Vicky, Rebecca, Anna, Sue, Shaun and Joji, Annette, Mum, Dad and Dylan. All bringing respite to the boredom of healing.

I wanted to go home last week, but Mr Valham wouldn't let me because the open wounds on my legs were still a bit sticky and septic, but he relented on Friday and let me have a "weekend pass". One night at home in a real bed was wonderful but it was also hard. And made me realise that maybe I wasn't ready to go home, more importantly it made me question whether mum and dad were ready to have me home.

Although I'm getting up and moving around I still need so much help, I cant move quickly and have little or no strength in my right arm, my fingers still struggle to close and open properly and I'm so tired after doing the most basic things. Angie said today that I have done really well. That when they brought me in, very few of the staff thought I was going to make it through the week. So apparently I'm a testament to my own determination. I actually feel like a freak, a fraud and a failure. But that could be the morphine withdrawal talking, I'm not allowed to go home until I'm off the big stuff, luckily I'm being supplied with my own little cache of take home drugs.....