It's not been a good week inside Batty's head. Thankfully Ben's eating disorder has only been a very small part of it. But all week long I've been anxious and on edge, unable to concentrate, unable to write my blog properly, unable to sleep and - today - unable to get out of bed.
After all that's been going on over the past (almost) 3 years, I'm no stranger to 'implosions' like this. What usually happens is that everything that's been going on comes to a head and my brain kind of says "No more!!!", explodes and shuts down for a day.
Then, the following day, I get up and carry on as near normal as dammit.
In the days of High Anorexia it was a zillion times worse and today's implosion is a mere ripple compared to the time when, after umpteen distressing anorexia-fuelled texts froms Ben at school, I smashed an entire dinner set, plate by plate - CRASH!!! - on the kitchen floor before collapsing in the corner in a blubbering heap of tears.
Then the next day, as we eating disorder mums have to do, I got up and carried on.
A few weeks later it was my hairbrush that was smashed to smitherenes when I hurled it across the spare bedroom. Then, desperate to smash something else, I threw a mirror on the floor. Finally I went into the living room and kicked a waste paper bin into the wall, leaving a permanent dent in the plaster.
If you're the parent of a young person with anorexia or another eating disorder you probably have your own 'implosion' stories to tell. Those occasions when everything gets too much and you break down in a way that, if in public, would surely prompt 'the men in white coats' to carry you off and lock you in a padded room.
This weekend's 'implosion' wasn't because of the eating disorder, although Ben's struggles to rid himself of the 'anorexia demon' have played a part in getting me super-stressed this week.
Really, it's been an undercurrent of various things that have been bubbling under the surface. The result is that I've slept badly (H says that one night I sat bolt upright in bed shouting "NOOOOO!") which has left me feeling wretched during the daytime.
And even when I did sleep, I felt anxious, unable to focus or concentrate, or feel any joy or motivation.
The final touch paper was lit when I picked up an email late last night on my mobile to say that a very dear friend of mine is seriously ill, and I mean seriously ill. I'd half been expecting to get such an email but when it came I just... well... imploded.
Ben rushed into my bedroom with "What's wrong? I heard you crying? You always come and hug me when I'm crying so I came to give you a hug because you're crying".
Implosions always leave me feeling completely sucked dry of any energy or any motivation to do anything at all.
So I stayed in bed.
But I should be OK tomorrow.