HOW LOW DO YOU SINK BEFORE YOU SAY "HELP - I CAN'T COPE" ?

I don't know, what do you think?

Is it when you're climbing the walls at one in the morning trying desperately to listen to the rational part of your brain that's telling you you're being irrational?  That you can breathe?  That the shakes and the shivers and the manic thoughts and the racing pulse are all in your head?

Or when you are on the phone to the Samaritans in the wee hours of the morning talking to a complete stranger because you're terrified to close your eyes?

Or when you're stepping over the piles of crap that used to be your life and wondering where it all went wrong?

Or when you're friend says to you "Why didn't you tell me you weren't coping?" Then tries to make you understand that "It's alright for you to fall apart, it's alright for you to not cope.  But you have to tell me so I can help get you back on track."

But how do you explain that it's not alright for you to fall apart?  It's incredibly hard for you to lean on anyone.   That you're supposed to be able to do it all. And if you fall apart, HE'LL be right.  That you lived with a man for years who made you feel inadequate as a wife, as a mother, as a person?  That you've been wearing your game face for so long that you don't know how to take it off?  That as long as you keep smiling and being jolly and cut fast and loose with the wit and the wisecracks just like normal... no one will know.  No one will be able to see that where there was calm there is now chaos.  Where there was light there's so much dark you don't think you'll ever be able to see your way out.

And then they peel off the veil you've been wearing over your eyes for so long that you didn't see what was going on around you.  That they do know.  That you haven't been as clever as you thought.  You haven't been able to hide the fact that you're just a shell and the person you see in the mirror is someone you don't even recognise any more.

Is that when you say, I need to reach out?  Is that when you can reach out?  When you can say actually I think I might be in a bit of trouble?  That's when you find out who your real friends are.  The ones who've been there all along.  The ones who've seen you at your best and don't care that you're at your worst, because they know you don't want to feel like this... this isn't something you enjoy... something you relish.

And then you have that one friend who says, right.  I know this isn't you.  I know you've hit the bottom and right now we're working our way up.  The friend who takes your hand and says, okay... now we're doing something about it and rolls up their shirt sleeves and dives in whether you like it or not.  The one who makes you realise even if its only a tiny bit... you are worth something after all.

Mine's called Amanda.  Who's yours?