I didn't think it would be like this... or maybe I did.

So I wake up at 7:10am and I know there are twelve gaping hours before Sproglet will be bathed and bedded. He trundles into the bedroom all crusty eyes and bed hair, soft and warm, curling into my outstretched arms. Husband is working and a friend cancelled plans we had made so the whole day stretches before me expecting to be filled. It overwhelms me with how I am going to fill it. I wrack my brains and try to come up with something that doesn't cost lots of cash and will fill our time on this wet, grey, forgotten kind of day.

I cried myself to sleep last night. Husband told me I am never happy, never satisfied. Maybe he is right. I was trying to articulate how I am feeling at the moment. Is hard to find the words. I don't think this writing malarkey is for me. I am lonely. So lonely. Devoid of daily interaction and banter. I'm like a plant that needs watered by conversation and people and laughter or I begin to wilt. I write and write - that is the fun part - but there is no-one to bounce an idea off, or skive for five minutes by the watercooler with, gossiping about last night's Glee ep, and I miss company so badly. It's not like I can pop into London, and have lunch - as I have to be back by 3 to collect Sproglet - and anyway, I'd feel guilty of I didn't have my head to the grindstone as Husband is supporting this whole writing lark. The day whirs past in a slew of words and chores and then I pick up Sproglet and desperately try and keep him amused without resorting to TVs and DS machines for the next 4 hours. Then he goes to bed and I am alone again - Husband not home until the wee hours. Repeat this on a endless cycle.

I'd love to join the gym, but can't afford it with no income. When the book is finished and summer has set, what then? There are no script editor jobs. Even the ones that exist involve long long hours on set, or travelling to Leeds or Cardiff - and how am I meant to do that with Sproglet at school and Husband's crazy hours? How come some people get it all - the career, the kids, the house, the life? I worked so so hard to become a script editor. I fought for my job and whilst there I worked my ass off. For what? Where do I go from here? I'm too old, too past it to present telly again, (on that point - where do ex tv workers go? I have always wondered when the youth driven energy sapping world of tv has done with you and spat you back out the real world, where do you go?) I have no idea what would work around the other commitments in my life, but I do know that I miss the comradeship of a job.

I've moved to an area with good schools and greenery and it truly is lovely. But it is so hard to find anyone on a similar wave length. This only exacerbates how I feel. Did I make the wrong move? Should I have stayed in a small flat in London to at least know working Mums, or Mums who aren't career Mothers? I feel like I'm losing myself, slipping deeper under as this melancholy washes over me. There is no end in sight. I keep thinking that all the career paths I have chosen have only led to dead ends. Like I'm in some maze and I cannot see my way out of it. Still the bills keep coming.... And if you want to see people or have them over for dinner - well that costs - and how you gonna pay?

This was my fear about my new path. But I had no choice, my job was ending, I'd done my time there, I had to forge a plan. I just don't know if it is the right one. Trouble is, I have no idea how to get the right one, or worse, if it even exists.