November 8th Friday.

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I did nothing yesterday but survive. It wasn't worth blogging about because I did less than nothing.
I'm emotionally exhausted.
I've been a craft activity at the school today with Jesse. I always book onto craft things, I really enjoy seeing his face light up when he sees me, because I never tell him I'm booked on, I just turn up and it warms my heart seeing his smile when he spots me walking in.
My brother is here now, he visits every Friday, he's really stepped up since Jay-Dees death. He knows I'm not coping, he rings everyday. If it wasn't for my brother and sister I'd be so lost. Family really is precious. 
It's coming up to 23 weeks without my son. When am I going to stop counting the weeks, I'm just torturing myself. The days are getting no easier. 
I know the size of my grief will never change and apparently I'll start to grow around it but, when? It took me 3 and a half years to start coming to terms with the death of my father, I've not got another 3 years in me.
Something good has got to happen in my life, surely? I've dealt with so much in such a short space of time, I don't know how I'll ever get better mentally. 
Is this me now? Lost forever?
It's scary to see in myself how much I've become withdrawn from the world. 
I really am mentally unwell.

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