And I'll be in Scotland afore ye....

EVEN WHEN I feel low and sad, I know this much to be true. I have been blessed by some very special friendships and when I've felt like giving up (as depression can make you feel) there is always someone there to pick me up, dust me off and make me realise that there are people out there who literally would save your life if you needed them too.

Things have been tough at home lately. My poor wee granny has Alzheimer's. It's a living death- the cruellest of diseases- and while she recognises my face she no longer is aware that I'm her grand-daughter. My son- named after her husband- is to her just a beautiful baby. The connection of great-grandson and the ever to be remembered and loved Granda Davidson is a thing of the past.

She is a woman who is scared, lonely and confused most of the time and her family, in particular my father and his siblings bear the brunt of the grieving process. I know my own mother means so much to me that imagining life without her, even for one second, can reduce me to hysterical crying- so to have someone, and yet be unable to reach their heart, must be truly devastating.

So our family is caught in a state of limbo. This woman, we love so deeply, is not the person we remember and yet her physical presence is the same so we can't just sit back and hope God is kind and takes her because our hearts are desperate to hold on to her and all she means.

On top of this, we have had problems in our own home- with changes in working practices making the balance between home and our professional lives harder to tolerate. My other half is job seeking and getting increasingly disillusioned with the market out there and we have to use all our strength to keep our frustrations under wraps.

Top all this off, with a move towards the longer nights and my fear about what this will mean for my depression and it's just one big happy house of fun here at the moment.

BUT, as I've said there are friends out there who know me well enough to take no for an answer and kick my rear end into touch when necessary.

Last week my dearest friend Vicki (some weirdo I met on t'internet!), sensing my depression, booked (AND PAID) for me to visit her in Glasgow for an overnighter. So on Tuesday off I toddled, sans baby, to Derry airport to board my flight.

On arrival at Glasgow airport, Vicki was waiting, smiling and ready with a hug and I felt immediately better. We had said we would use the night for a good blether, a few tears and putting the world to rights and while I know we talked a lot- mostly we just laughed and acted as teenagers would.

I returned home the following day just so slightly hungover but much more ready to face the world. And with the added support of my mad mums support network, Ruth, Vanessa, Cerise and Sarah I feel much more ready to take the world on board.

You can't keep a mad mammy down.