And so the post-Christmas meltdown arrived a little later than usual. But at least this time I know the answer is not to sob but to write. It's the thing that keeps me going. I don't know why. I have a houseful of selfish adults ( now all post 18 ) hell-bent on living life on their terms, their agenda, their whims and desires. I blame those crappy motivational posters that tell you that you CAN have everything and if you dream it you can do it - no you fucking can't. Meanwhile, I'm here keeping my shit together , facilitating, enabling, encouraging, sacrificing ( trying not to slip into martyrdom ) and all with that brave grin on my face. Then the straw gets added to the camel's back and it all comes crashing down. I've told H to give me a very wide berth today and that everyone else can go to hell in a hand cart. Christmas does this to me. No-one asks me to put on the show but I do it anyway because I think that's what's expected of me. I only hav