It's been another rollercoaster of a day today. Playgroup in the morning, and J surprisingly chipper. He loves the attention from the mums, and that helps, and I always find that pretending to be all happy and dandy can often have the effect of making you actually feel happy and dandy.
X managed to get up by midday, and managed to take The Aunty to the hospital as promised. Think he felt quite pleased with himself, especially as he had a pretty bad night's sleep last night, certainly worse than the night before, but he got up. Well done him! Yay!
Another visit from the Mental Health Team, but a crap visitor today, really not a helpful or sympathetic approach, and seems to have dropped X's mood again, tho he really seems to have the most difficulty with my clay feet than with anything else.
I ended up feeling angry and frustrated and very resentful. I'm only running on 4 hours sleep, and I'd love to just lie around and do nothing, but I don't have that luxury, even on the weekend usually.

It's so hard to keep telling yourself that he's ill, not deliberate. He can't really help it. He needs help and understanding and that is very hard all the time, espcecially with a reality that includes small children and their needs. It's so easy to feel he's being lazy and selfish, and he should just be able to get up and be cheerful, and put a face on it, and enjoy being with the kids, and the reality is he'll get angry and snap and upset them, or he'll mope and upset them, or he'll manage the brave face yet be knotted up inside with dread and fear and then blow up at you about it later.

Expect you won't have a clue what he's blowing up about, and even he can't often tell you. You just know it, and you feel it and it's so hard to not react to that, but to react to the reality underneath, with love and compassion, but you have to try, and you have to keep telling yourself, and most of all, you have to apologise when you get it wrong.