Sonnet 66

     I’m still tired. I’m tired with all these.

     I’m tired with endlessly phoning people, and being told that someone will phone me back, but no one does. I’m tired with phoning other people who tell me I shouldn’t be speaking to them; I should be speaking to another department. I’m tired with phoning another department to be told the first department are the people who can provide the information, but no one’s in the office right now. I’m tired with having to leave message after message.

     I’m tired with no one giving me any information. I’m tired with having to find out things from family, instead of the official people who are actually making these decisions. I’m tired with everyone else knowing what’s going on better than I do, and I’m finding out information second or third hand. I’m tired with no one actually sitting me down and telling me what the situation is.

     I’m tired with being unable to not overhear phone conversations that blame me. I’m tired with people subtly, and not so subtly, saying this is my fault. I’m tired with being shouted at in the street. I’m tired with getting phone calls when I’m doing the school run that make hot tears run down my face. I’m tired with making appointments that other people don’t show up to. I’m tired with making appointments that I have to sit in a public place and wait for over an hour to be seen.

     I’m tired with being told it is vitally important that I arrange to see someone from a certain department, walking two miles in the rain to keep our arranged appointment, and the first thing they say is ‘I’ve looked at your file, and there’s no point you being here.’ I’m tired with having to provide information. I’m tired with people saying ‘there are services available to help you, you have been referred’, but then finding out my details have mysteriously vanished. I’m tired with getting angry at people who are so incompetent at their job, they’re actually dangerous.

     I’m tired with feeling scared. I’m tired with feeling hurt. I’m tired with feeling guilty. I’m tired with regret and remorse. I’m tired with people behaving in ways that make things worse.

     I’m tired with trying to protect The Blondies. I’m tired with always having to keep a happy face in front of them. I’m tired of slipping into the downstairs loo to cry for thirty seconds when everything overwhelms me. I’m tired with waiting for them to go to sleep each night so I can lie in bed and silently shake with tears, just like I’m doing now. I’m tired with trying to find distractions so I don’t feel like I do. I’m tired with having no money, and having to tell The Blondies I can’t afford things. I’m tired with worrying about Christmas. I’m tired with the abyss that opens up within me when The Blondies aren’t here, and the gnawing, aching fear that I carry then.

     I’m tired with trying to explain, I’m tired with talking, I’m tired with having no privacy, no secrets, nothing that’s mine anymore. I am tired. I am tired with all of these.