This week, we attended the children's Christmas function, the eldest rocked his moves on the dance floor, the youngest was very attentive and focused. They are both doing so well, have improved so greatly and the confidence is evident that we are doing something right.
Great apprehension
A couple hours before our arrival at the school, we are informed that their mother (who has been M.I.A to date) will be in attendance, personally I'm impressed she's making the effort. Although I'm happy for the children that their mother is showing support, I try my best to mask my anxiety at the thought of our first encounter. There is a tangible agitation between us as a couple, we both don't say it, and he even denies it, but we're both walking on eggshells, poised and in our seats.
The eruption within
Naturally, any woman who has walked my path would want to make sure that the kids are protected from any drama, that as a woman, one looks and feels confident and at one's best. As far as flawless is concerned, I've nailed it, however, within me is an unnerved shambles, hoping for the best.
The kids come off the stage, they've done so well. I'm so proud and they run into their fathers arms. Straight past me. Dagger in the front. I shrug it off.
Typically I would be the recipient of such hugs, but I suppose this is their night, it's their father and they know that mom is around. Suddenly my insecurity starts to charge from the top of my solar plexus and wants to spew out through my throat and out of my mouth, a familiar and nagging sequence that has been the cause of my disdain all year. The resentment is real and so is the rejection.
Nothing compares to the pain
The evening comes to an end, mom doesn't bother to greet me and I'm not surprised. I don't really care either. Her hair is an unkept bed of two tone outgrowth and her tiny figure swims in the jeans that carry her legs. I pity the her, but she made the effort and it's applaudable.
The boys throw themselves into her arms, and then we all say goodbye. An unfamiliar pang gnashes at my heart. Those are my boys, I seethe, and then quickly remind myself of my place in this family. I am the 5th wheel, fiercely protective over family that is both my own and by definition not. I'm torn. What is this I'm feeling?
As we walk to the car, I trail behind. The high heels I'm wearing command my steady pace. They all leave me in their hurried path as I try and keep up without really wanting to either. I feel like less of a priority and then prompt some rationale into my head with a reminder that it's very late and the traffic crazy. He's not leaving me behind on purpose, hundreds of parents and children flow toward their cars and it's way past bed time.
It's not about me and it's eating me alive. I feel rejected, excluded and unwanted. I call out to their dad to wait, a snigger can be heard behind me, it's her, great! I wanted to be this bold and united family and I'm embarrassed and deflated, caught out like the fraud I feel I am. Perhaps my ego is at play because non of this really matters, yet I'm absolutely devastated.
A fall from grace
We get home and prepare the children for bed. It's an hour past their regular bed time and so much still has to be done. I prepare their lunches as dad starts packing their bags. We've also just been informed (not consulted with) that they will be collected from their mother a day earlier from school and we are to pack up their clothing for the weekend plus one day - at 9pm in the evening. I feel left out from that decision too, it's not even important but for some reason I'm jaded.
I'm livid, but at the same time, I'm forced to know my place. I fail to keep my irritation at bay, my face is an open book and my eyes give away a story of their own, wild with annoyance. She's not here, doesn't contribute and yet I'm feeling like I must just fit in.
As we go to bed, an immature blurt of frustration comes out of my mouth, "I hate my life!", and he goes cold with shock. Personally I can't even tell you where this came from, just that it pretty much summed up the last year we have been together. I love him, I love our bond, I love our connection but I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this. Surely it's meant to get better with time?
An avalanche of emotions start to surface, I feel like a failure, a fraud and a fake. I battle every single day at the thought of sharing my life with this extended family. There is judgement from my side, a reminder of his mistakes and my own.
I'm stuck at 17. I'm stuck at the hospital where I'm terminating my pregnancy all those years ago. Is this my punishment? Should I have made a different decision? Why didn't I just do the opposite? I'm living with so much regret, such a void and so many unanswered questions.
This is my life, with no family of my own, no children, no husband, just an observer and participant when I'm required to be and then I need to back off and allow the family to sort out their issues when needs be. The family that reminds me that I'm the outsider. It doesn't help that at my age, people judge me, I've had people tell me I'm a fool for taking on this mess, but I'm still here. Two days ago a girl I used to au pair told me she's seen on social media that I'm "still avoiding the marriage thing". Well I can assure you I'm feeling so much less than a winner right now.
I'm hurting, badly, wounded by the fact that I chose this. I chose this life because of a love for a man that I've never shared with anyone. I chose this life and yet I feel as if I'm failing at it. I chose this life and yet I'm resentful. Would it be better to just walk away?
My problem is that, in my mind, this is failure.
My problem is that, in my mind, this isn't the picket fence dream I deserve.
My problem is that, in my mind, I'm not their mother. I'm the stand in. Good enough for the most part, useless against the original.
My problem is that, I want to be someones family.
My problem is that, I want my own children, my own milestones.
My problem is that, I resent that this isn't the life I chose for myself, or rather, that I hadn't envisioned for myself.
My problem is that, I am so resentful.
My problem is that, I'm so angry.
My problem is that, I wish I could undo the past.
My problem is that, I will always wrestle with regret and judgement.
My problem is that, I'm broody for the first time in my life.
My problem is that, I'm an emotional wreck.
My problem is that, I'm in a box, without a label. I give love, share joy and impart guidance, yet I'm not their mother. I'm expected to be detached, yet expected to love. I'm the fetcher and carrier during school rounds, the provider of clothing and stationery supplies. Their cheerleader and the nothing that compares to their mother whose done nothing but neglect them since they were conceived.
I'm the cleaner of wounds, the voice of reason and the co-parent during their stay with us which is during the week, every day and on weekends. I'm at a crossroads of self acceptance and self persecution. I'm in a quandary over maternal instinct and duty. I'm struggling with blood bonds versus a couple months of cohabitation in this new role.
I know I'm not their mother, but I feel like I am. I'm the protector, the cook and cleaner. I'm the one they turn to for good night kisses and giggles over Nae-Nae dance moves.
My problem is that, I've taken on something greater than myself.
My problem is that, I want to and don't want to at the same time.
My problem is that, all I can see are the con's and very little pro's to this situation.
My problem is that, I used to be independent and free and now I'm bound and held to ransom by a broken family where I feel like the outsider.
My problem is that, even if I have my own children, they will always be his first born.
If you know what my solution is, I'd love to hear it.
Until then, I better dry my eyes that have cried about a thousand tears since last night and do my best to pull myself out of this depression and into work mode before that too is jeopardized.
My depression, my anxiety and my struggle this year, the only year we've been together, all started when I lost my identity and took this all on. I'm no hero, I'm just a woman in love with a man, who is really really battling to accept her life choices.
Maybe I just need to grow up, maybe time will heal. Who knows, I don't.
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Wednesday, 2 December 2015
Monday, 31 August 2015
No one understands it, not even myself.
I've been rallying through this instant family role for a year now, properly since the beginning of this year (2015) all on my own steam, no one gets it, it's not encouraged, nor endorsed by anyone who knows, loves or meets me. People don't get this, not even I do.
I read a short Babble article this morning that just summed up all my emotions and put everything into perspective that's pretty much, what I call life at this moment.
I have no village.
During a very real chat with Daddio recently, I lay all my cards on the table about boundaries. I've found that resentment and fear are buddies, and that where there is resentment, there's most likely an underlying fear that someone or something is going to have to be sacrificed. A least in my mind.
Having identified this conflicting duo of emotions, I've managed to stop, take a meaningful breath and then ask myself, "What are you afraid of in this moment of resentment?"
Nine out of ten times, it is the fear of loss I'll endure, loss of something physical or precious that I've worked for. The other side is the fear of lack of appreciation I'll receive from anyone, lack of gratitude, being taken for granted, being resented back. Something may get damaged that I've worked hard for (when they sit swinging their legs on my new camping chairs on the lawn or perhaps I'm concerned that I'm at the bottom of the priority list as the last bits of my favourite mayonnaise are put up for auction to the highest bidder without my consideration and yes, it's just bloody mayonnaise, why do I act like it's important). I'm constantly wrestling with resentment and releasing it by speaking about my fears and concerns as they arise, which set me free from the burden of carrying them silently, sometimes for days.
Try discipline a child without raising your hands, your voice or asking yourself why you signed up for this. I've tried, been and done everything in my power, perhaps this is my emotional rock bottom, my cry for help.
I need a village, and my tribe is very, very small. I don't know anyone who is in the same position as I am. I'm gapping this and I may just be losing my mind.
Why am I putting myself through this?
So here I am, letting it all out. The toothpaste in our bathroom has been forced down into the basin drain by 6 year old fingers his solo game continues in silence.
Thousands of little germs greet his dirty fingers, the same ones he was meant to wash prior, along with the booger in his nose that needed to be removed. Yes, he's 6, I get it, but it's my basin too.
I stand watching from a distance as he takes his toothbrush and sweeps up the remains of our dirty basin (please don't act like yours is spotless 24/7) bringing the debris to his little mouth. It is in this moment I realise that my en-suite bathroom has been overthrown, my sanctuary and only place to hide has been taken over because two little boys have to be separated otherwise there are distractions and fighting and nothing really gets done. This is bullshit.
When I realise that he is in possession and alternating 2 toothpaste tubes (and neither are the junior brands I brought him last week), I in turn, realise is our tube of adult toothpaste.
He has now managed to mix up the only 2 tubes of toothpaste in our bathroom, one of which was for his exclusive use during a severe mouth infection he had two weeks ago. Now I know where my ulcer and sinus infection have come from *rolls eyes*.
My blood pressure starts to rise, I've been sick and perhaps this is the reason why. Perhaps, if these were my own biological children, my willingness to share bodily fluids with them, including germs and diseases, I wouldn't be so pissed. Why am I putting myself through this, why! I share my resentments, Daddio quickly takes the tubes back to their original bathroom. I'm sans toothpaste I can trust. Now would be a good time to tell me I'm being oversensitive.
Toughen up or leave
I will admit, that leaving this place I call home with two small manipulators with very obvious psychological issues, has become a very real option. It's not because I don't love their father, God knows how much I love their father, it's because I'm wondering if I've got what it takes to do this.
But maybe, this isn't about loving myself more, maybe it's learning to dance in the rain as they say, about setting boundaries in place and being happy - for the most part - without losing my own sense of identity.
So I made myself a priority. (Ha.)
It ends by starting anew
And this week I look forward to so many exciting new adventures, on my own, because that's what all women need, with or without a village, with or without offspring. They need time out, pampering, friends and that moment when you get to a set of traffic lights, get checked out by a cute guy next to you and feel that ziiiiiiiing of, "Yeah, I still got it!".
So I've set out a date for myself, all my needs cannot be fulfilled by everyone in my life, so I'm making my own list and prioritizing myself once again. I'm seeing old friends for lunch and coffee dates that I've failed to prioritize over the last year, I've got a gym date with my bestie (me) I'm starting to drink green tea, with the intention of getting my sexy, un-mommied body back in shape - because that's what I signed up for. For independence, for self preservation, for date nights and movies and memories. Sorry Daddio, it's not personal, well it is, but not like that :)
Not because I'm selfish, but because I'm worth it. Not because you don't make me happy but because you can't give me everything I need, all of the time, and that wouldn't be sensible to expect anyone on this planet to make me (or you) whole. As my dad always says, "Life is a Do It Yourself Job".
No one gives 100% of their effort, 100% of their time to 100% of anything - it's not possible. Balance will set me free, balance is the answer, balance is the difference between expecting to be priority and then commanding it when the time is right.
Balance cannot allow resentment to come into play when balance allows for new adventures, stimulus and experiences. Time out, time away - without romance, without partners, without even being angry about it. Simply, just - for - you! So you can grow, so you can live, so you can create your own memories, experiences and identity.
Balance is in my own hands. Maybe then, people will stop asking me what I'm still doing with a man and his two children and all their baggage. An ex and her shopping list of tendencies to give less f#$%s than anyone I know about her responsibilities.
And perhaps when I'm smiling again because I've sorted myself out - everyone will realise, including myself, that love is enough and boundaries are everything.
I read a short Babble article this morning that just summed up all my emotions and put everything into perspective that's pretty much, what I call life at this moment.
I have no village.
During a very real chat with Daddio recently, I lay all my cards on the table about boundaries. I've found that resentment and fear are buddies, and that where there is resentment, there's most likely an underlying fear that someone or something is going to have to be sacrificed. A least in my mind.
Having identified this conflicting duo of emotions, I've managed to stop, take a meaningful breath and then ask myself, "What are you afraid of in this moment of resentment?"
Nine out of ten times, it is the fear of loss I'll endure, loss of something physical or precious that I've worked for. The other side is the fear of lack of appreciation I'll receive from anyone, lack of gratitude, being taken for granted, being resented back. Something may get damaged that I've worked hard for (when they sit swinging their legs on my new camping chairs on the lawn or perhaps I'm concerned that I'm at the bottom of the priority list as the last bits of my favourite mayonnaise are put up for auction to the highest bidder without my consideration and yes, it's just bloody mayonnaise, why do I act like it's important). I'm constantly wrestling with resentment and releasing it by speaking about my fears and concerns as they arise, which set me free from the burden of carrying them silently, sometimes for days.
Try discipline a child without raising your hands, your voice or asking yourself why you signed up for this. I've tried, been and done everything in my power, perhaps this is my emotional rock bottom, my cry for help.
I need a village, and my tribe is very, very small. I don't know anyone who is in the same position as I am. I'm gapping this and I may just be losing my mind.
Why am I putting myself through this?
So here I am, letting it all out. The toothpaste in our bathroom has been forced down into the basin drain by 6 year old fingers his solo game continues in silence.
Thousands of little germs greet his dirty fingers, the same ones he was meant to wash prior, along with the booger in his nose that needed to be removed. Yes, he's 6, I get it, but it's my basin too.
I stand watching from a distance as he takes his toothbrush and sweeps up the remains of our dirty basin (please don't act like yours is spotless 24/7) bringing the debris to his little mouth. It is in this moment I realise that my en-suite bathroom has been overthrown, my sanctuary and only place to hide has been taken over because two little boys have to be separated otherwise there are distractions and fighting and nothing really gets done. This is bullshit.
When I realise that he is in possession and alternating 2 toothpaste tubes (and neither are the junior brands I brought him last week), I in turn, realise is our tube of adult toothpaste.
He has now managed to mix up the only 2 tubes of toothpaste in our bathroom, one of which was for his exclusive use during a severe mouth infection he had two weeks ago. Now I know where my ulcer and sinus infection have come from *rolls eyes*.
My blood pressure starts to rise, I've been sick and perhaps this is the reason why. Perhaps, if these were my own biological children, my willingness to share bodily fluids with them, including germs and diseases, I wouldn't be so pissed. Why am I putting myself through this, why! I share my resentments, Daddio quickly takes the tubes back to their original bathroom. I'm sans toothpaste I can trust. Now would be a good time to tell me I'm being oversensitive.
Toughen up or leave
I will admit, that leaving this place I call home with two small manipulators with very obvious psychological issues, has become a very real option. It's not because I don't love their father, God knows how much I love their father, it's because I'm wondering if I've got what it takes to do this.
But maybe, this isn't about loving myself more, maybe it's learning to dance in the rain as they say, about setting boundaries in place and being happy - for the most part - without losing my own sense of identity.
So I made myself a priority. (Ha.)
It ends by starting anew
And this week I look forward to so many exciting new adventures, on my own, because that's what all women need, with or without a village, with or without offspring. They need time out, pampering, friends and that moment when you get to a set of traffic lights, get checked out by a cute guy next to you and feel that ziiiiiiiing of, "Yeah, I still got it!".
So I've set out a date for myself, all my needs cannot be fulfilled by everyone in my life, so I'm making my own list and prioritizing myself once again. I'm seeing old friends for lunch and coffee dates that I've failed to prioritize over the last year, I've got a gym date with my bestie (me) I'm starting to drink green tea, with the intention of getting my sexy, un-mommied body back in shape - because that's what I signed up for. For independence, for self preservation, for date nights and movies and memories. Sorry Daddio, it's not personal, well it is, but not like that :)
Not because I'm selfish, but because I'm worth it. Not because you don't make me happy but because you can't give me everything I need, all of the time, and that wouldn't be sensible to expect anyone on this planet to make me (or you) whole. As my dad always says, "Life is a Do It Yourself Job".
No one gives 100% of their effort, 100% of their time to 100% of anything - it's not possible. Balance will set me free, balance is the answer, balance is the difference between expecting to be priority and then commanding it when the time is right.
Balance cannot allow resentment to come into play when balance allows for new adventures, stimulus and experiences. Time out, time away - without romance, without partners, without even being angry about it. Simply, just - for - you! So you can grow, so you can live, so you can create your own memories, experiences and identity.
Balance is in my own hands. Maybe then, people will stop asking me what I'm still doing with a man and his two children and all their baggage. An ex and her shopping list of tendencies to give less f#$%s than anyone I know about her responsibilities.
And perhaps when I'm smiling again because I've sorted myself out - everyone will realise, including myself, that love is enough and boundaries are everything.
Wednesday, 12 August 2015
The day my flame went out
It's been a while I know.
I was carrying on as normal with a slight bout of laryngitis last week, nothing unfamiliar to me, especially when I spend enough time around smokers at social events that my job requires me to be at.
The day before, I had found myself in tears at my office boardroom. A conflict with an overly pretentious colleague had us face to face and I wasn't in the mood to play. My usually diplomatic and peaceful temperament had left the building while my frustration whipped within me. This was, for a lack of a better explanation, an intervention brought on by my Director after a disgruntled phone call I had made earlier that day. My internal pressure cooker was working overtime, I could feel it building within me. I am not this person.
Watershed
For the first time in my adult life and in all my years in the corporate world, I couldn't stop crying. It may have seemed like a ploy to "turn on the waterworks" to gain sympathy in any other circumstance, but my heart was genuinely breaking and none of it had to do with my immediate situation. Months of frustration seemed to escape from my eyeballs, leaving everyone incredibly sympathetic to 'how badly I had taken the confrontation'. If only they knew, if only I knew what was really going on deep inside me, but all was to be revealed within the next 24 hours despite my ignorance.
The next morning my voice has dissipated to a croak and I had scheduled an appointment with my GP. Nipping this sniffle in the bud sooner rather than later, would be the difference between a slight sinus infection and full blown pneumonia which I'm very susceptible to, especially when my immune system has been compromised by internal stress. Your body is your compass and it's never wrong.
As I prepared for the day, I stood in the shower as the water ran down my face, my back and between my toes. I could literally feel the knot in my throat force it's way up and down my esophagus as I literally tried to swallow my pent up frustrations like a thick, dry paste. In that moment, I allowed myself to release it all. Please note the permission I had to grant myself to acknowledge my wits end, the permission to feel.
Months of resentment, frustration, chaos. Nothing really made sense, I had taken on Goliath and lost. I felt defeated and depleted with nothing more to give. I had taken on these children, their father, his baggage, their baggage, their close to psychotic mother who had contributed nothing, demanded everything and got away with it all and made it my own. I had the best intentions for them, for us. I was going to be the hero without actually trying to save anyone.
The debt had piled up. Dad didn't have cash, how could he when he was paying for the children's necessities, school fees and after care. He was relying on me for everything else, they were relying on me. I was the bank, the grocery provider, the one ensuring lunches were made with bread I had purchased. I was the entertainment, the provider of lunchbox luxuries and Sunday afternoon ice cream treats. I provided clothing, stationery, school books and toiletries. I made doctors appointments for overdue check ups and paid for medications they needed. I was the provider of multivitamins, new school socks and birthday presents. Even in the midst of our Saturday night card games , the ex messages us with sinister and ominous messages of manipulation. Is there no rest for the wicked. Is this my life.
I was done, exhausted, finished and the saddest part is that I didn't even realise it until I was face to face with the truth that came in the form of a medical practitioner I had never met.
My wake up call
As I got to the doctors room, I sat in the waiting room battling to withhold relentless tears that failed to cease from my swollen eyes. It was as if I had released a valve that connected my heart to my face and purged a torrent of salty resentment, fear, loss, hurt and guilt. I was cracking up.
I hadn't even made it back from the toilet visit I had made to blow my nose, when the doctor I was seeing (and never met before) guessed that I was her next patient. Most of the consultation was a blur but what I do recall I won't ever forget.
"By the sounds of things, you've got a lot on your plate. You've reached rock bottom, burn out my dear". She referred to my incessant shaking as 'adrenal fatigue', and then promptly prescribed a shopping list of medications to get me through as well as a contact number for a therapist. Above the IV bag containing a cocktail of vitamins and immune boosters, the most poignant message was that I needed to talk to someone, I needed support - real support. Although surrounded by moral support, I was doing this alone.
She had hit the nail on the head, I'd been feeling my way through this step mother process, completely in the dark and in unfamiliar surroundings that I've referred to and proudly embraced as my new life. I needed help, and while I had parents and friends that were supportive in their own way, no one could really save me from my own conflicts. This was a medley of toxic waste that was poisoning my soul.
The road to recovery
Parenting isn't easy and while I was feeling alone, dad finds himself in the docs office today after days of a weekend of migraines and blurred vision. Something is different and with enough nagging we get an appointment for him to see someone with immediate effect. The diagnosis is anxiety and stress induced hypertension (of course it is *rolls eyes*). We really have taken an emotional beating and neither of us even saw it coming. How the hell did we manage to crash and burn within a week of each other. What happened to the fun and the laughter and the best years of our lives. This is a living hell.
But the road to recovery is knowing what to take on and what simply isn't your battle. I've realised that even though I love these children, they are not my blood. I have bent over backwards, borrowed money, extended overdrafts and provided where their mother simply fails to do so. Often I wonder if she see's full custody as a way and means of gaining funds for her own personal interests.
I refuse to give any more 'airtime' to a woman that wants to play games, manipulate and break us down while we give 110% to 2 small children that have no idea how to express gratitude let alone comprehend the sacrifices I've made for them. Gourmet lunches prepped at night, school photographs purchased for their benefit, collection from school on the days that dad is running late and then fuel for his car that he cannot afford because he's stretched so thin financially. How is this fair, any of it.
We have but one life and it's has been overrun with anxieties and stresses that aren't even mine to start with. This is not my family, they are not my responsibility, yet I choose to provide, care, love. Does this make me a martyr? Do I care too much?
Perhaps I'm living through my own guilt, childhood issues and hurts by moving heaven and earth for two little beings that were strangers to me 12 months ago. But watch this space, I've got a game plan and I'm getting my life back!
In the meantime, there are tranquilizers, a week off work and a partner whose love makes it all worthwhile. We'll get through this, we'll figure it all out. Everything is already okay.
Love, my motivation and my undoing.
I was carrying on as normal with a slight bout of laryngitis last week, nothing unfamiliar to me, especially when I spend enough time around smokers at social events that my job requires me to be at.
The day before, I had found myself in tears at my office boardroom. A conflict with an overly pretentious colleague had us face to face and I wasn't in the mood to play. My usually diplomatic and peaceful temperament had left the building while my frustration whipped within me. This was, for a lack of a better explanation, an intervention brought on by my Director after a disgruntled phone call I had made earlier that day. My internal pressure cooker was working overtime, I could feel it building within me. I am not this person.
Watershed
For the first time in my adult life and in all my years in the corporate world, I couldn't stop crying. It may have seemed like a ploy to "turn on the waterworks" to gain sympathy in any other circumstance, but my heart was genuinely breaking and none of it had to do with my immediate situation. Months of frustration seemed to escape from my eyeballs, leaving everyone incredibly sympathetic to 'how badly I had taken the confrontation'. If only they knew, if only I knew what was really going on deep inside me, but all was to be revealed within the next 24 hours despite my ignorance.
The next morning my voice has dissipated to a croak and I had scheduled an appointment with my GP. Nipping this sniffle in the bud sooner rather than later, would be the difference between a slight sinus infection and full blown pneumonia which I'm very susceptible to, especially when my immune system has been compromised by internal stress. Your body is your compass and it's never wrong.
As I prepared for the day, I stood in the shower as the water ran down my face, my back and between my toes. I could literally feel the knot in my throat force it's way up and down my esophagus as I literally tried to swallow my pent up frustrations like a thick, dry paste. In that moment, I allowed myself to release it all. Please note the permission I had to grant myself to acknowledge my wits end, the permission to feel.
Months of resentment, frustration, chaos. Nothing really made sense, I had taken on Goliath and lost. I felt defeated and depleted with nothing more to give. I had taken on these children, their father, his baggage, their baggage, their close to psychotic mother who had contributed nothing, demanded everything and got away with it all and made it my own. I had the best intentions for them, for us. I was going to be the hero without actually trying to save anyone.
The debt had piled up. Dad didn't have cash, how could he when he was paying for the children's necessities, school fees and after care. He was relying on me for everything else, they were relying on me. I was the bank, the grocery provider, the one ensuring lunches were made with bread I had purchased. I was the entertainment, the provider of lunchbox luxuries and Sunday afternoon ice cream treats. I provided clothing, stationery, school books and toiletries. I made doctors appointments for overdue check ups and paid for medications they needed. I was the provider of multivitamins, new school socks and birthday presents. Even in the midst of our Saturday night card games , the ex messages us with sinister and ominous messages of manipulation. Is there no rest for the wicked. Is this my life.
I was done, exhausted, finished and the saddest part is that I didn't even realise it until I was face to face with the truth that came in the form of a medical practitioner I had never met.
My wake up call
As I got to the doctors room, I sat in the waiting room battling to withhold relentless tears that failed to cease from my swollen eyes. It was as if I had released a valve that connected my heart to my face and purged a torrent of salty resentment, fear, loss, hurt and guilt. I was cracking up.
I hadn't even made it back from the toilet visit I had made to blow my nose, when the doctor I was seeing (and never met before) guessed that I was her next patient. Most of the consultation was a blur but what I do recall I won't ever forget.
"By the sounds of things, you've got a lot on your plate. You've reached rock bottom, burn out my dear". She referred to my incessant shaking as 'adrenal fatigue', and then promptly prescribed a shopping list of medications to get me through as well as a contact number for a therapist. Above the IV bag containing a cocktail of vitamins and immune boosters, the most poignant message was that I needed to talk to someone, I needed support - real support. Although surrounded by moral support, I was doing this alone.
She had hit the nail on the head, I'd been feeling my way through this step mother process, completely in the dark and in unfamiliar surroundings that I've referred to and proudly embraced as my new life. I needed help, and while I had parents and friends that were supportive in their own way, no one could really save me from my own conflicts. This was a medley of toxic waste that was poisoning my soul.
The road to recovery
Parenting isn't easy and while I was feeling alone, dad finds himself in the docs office today after days of a weekend of migraines and blurred vision. Something is different and with enough nagging we get an appointment for him to see someone with immediate effect. The diagnosis is anxiety and stress induced hypertension (of course it is *rolls eyes*). We really have taken an emotional beating and neither of us even saw it coming. How the hell did we manage to crash and burn within a week of each other. What happened to the fun and the laughter and the best years of our lives. This is a living hell.
But the road to recovery is knowing what to take on and what simply isn't your battle. I've realised that even though I love these children, they are not my blood. I have bent over backwards, borrowed money, extended overdrafts and provided where their mother simply fails to do so. Often I wonder if she see's full custody as a way and means of gaining funds for her own personal interests.
I refuse to give any more 'airtime' to a woman that wants to play games, manipulate and break us down while we give 110% to 2 small children that have no idea how to express gratitude let alone comprehend the sacrifices I've made for them. Gourmet lunches prepped at night, school photographs purchased for their benefit, collection from school on the days that dad is running late and then fuel for his car that he cannot afford because he's stretched so thin financially. How is this fair, any of it.
We have but one life and it's has been overrun with anxieties and stresses that aren't even mine to start with. This is not my family, they are not my responsibility, yet I choose to provide, care, love. Does this make me a martyr? Do I care too much?
Perhaps I'm living through my own guilt, childhood issues and hurts by moving heaven and earth for two little beings that were strangers to me 12 months ago. But watch this space, I've got a game plan and I'm getting my life back!
In the meantime, there are tranquilizers, a week off work and a partner whose love makes it all worthwhile. We'll get through this, we'll figure it all out. Everything is already okay.
Love, my motivation and my undoing.
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