trapped screaming inside my bladder, computer, house, life as a mummy

So today:

I bought a laptop with windows 8 which I know I won't be able to use and it will leave me in tears rather than enable me to write more either cathartically or for work or both. Instead I will spend all my time trying to make another stupid computer work.

I overreacted to the above because my bladder was burning burning burning all through the PC world hobbit man (Gollum was right about Sam all along, it seems) talking me through endless possibilities and impossibilities and all I wanted was a toilet. The nearest one was in McDonalds and I hobbled there after 2 hours of searing pain. I had bought the wrong laptop. I didn't care because finally, here was somewhere I could empty my bladder. it took about 5 minutes before my bladder would relax as my muscles were so tight. Outside, the great British public were eating their greasy burgers, shouting at their kids, knocking on the door ('she's not disabled, is she?').

I started driving to my acupuncture appointment when my daughter rang. She told me some upsetting things about her father bullying her , which I reacted to by shouting at him. I stood up to him, telling him he couldn't treat her like that, not anticipating the reaction. His reaction was to explode. Completely explode. At her; at me; shouting; spitting down the phone. He then starting calling me a 'stupid fat bitch', within her earshot, at which point, unbeknownst to either him or to me, she ran away; ran crying from her aunt's house down to the harbour in the Cornish village where they are staying, and got lost. Meanwhile I was apologising to her control freak bully father, talking him down, pandering to his ego, oh I'm so so good at that part, I've been playing it all my life...

Shout at me; I'll apologise. Criticise me; I'll capitulate. Put me down; and I'll shrink into a little ball.
I've spent my entire adult life around men who bully and abuse me.

So I calmed him down enough that he didn't yell at her or me anymore, or just dump her in the car and drive her home and dump her on my front door. Not because I didn't want to (though if I'm totally honest, a part of me was screaming 'I need the fucking rest and I have medical appointments in the next 3 days which I've arranged thinking I don't have the children here!!!!') because I want her with me if she is upset and part of me right  now at 1am wants to just get in the car and drive there and scoop her up.... but because she does not need a Daddy crisis 2 weeks before starting secondary school. If things are still bad, I was thinking, we'll get her at the weekend. So I talked my beautiful daughter's ugly father down from the edge of his semi-psychosis; and then 5 minutes later, the phone rang again; again I pulled over and my daughter said 'Mum, I ran away from them; I'm in a phone box'.

I had to spend 20 minutes sorting it out from miles away while her father's phone was switched off; I even found a local taxi company who were going to pick her up, when we finally got through to him and he went to collect her.

She told me later on the phone that her apology to him was 'fake'. She hates his girlfriend (Polish, conventional, hard as nails, and that's all I know; I haven't met her. but apparently she handed my daughter a brown paper bag, after insulting her and her mother, and told her to breathe into it to stop the hyperventilation) and is starting to hate him. I told her to stick it out until the weekend if she could; she is ok as her cousin is with her and they're camping. She said 'if you give Daddy a fake apology he's ok'. Something I found out in the 3 years of verbal, emotional and physical abuse I endured while living with him. He slept with 5 other women during the first year of my daughter's life. I kept saying it was ok, because look at me, how fat and disgusting I am, and how  I have trapped him into this life he hates....

Came home and cried and sat in a bath for 2 hours reading and cried some more and tried to eat and drank a little bit of gin and watched some tv and stared into space......

So what shall I do for IC awareness month in September? Dye my hair blue before it falls out from the Elmiron? Write an article and hope that somewhere publishes it, if I can get my computer to work? Sit and cry every night and just GIVE UP BECAUSE THIS FUCKING ILLNESS IS NEVER GOING TO GO AWAY AND I HAVE NOBODY TO PUT ME FIRST AND HOW CAN I GO ON
WHEN I NEVER GET A BREAK?

I want a break from all of this. I want SILENCE. I want to wake up in heaven and it all be behind me.