Growth hurts, but so does denial

I sat before my client Beaulah, she's a real gem to call on. 
She's become a trusted friend, the older sister I never had. I held back tears as I shared where I was in my life at that moment. 

I had come to the point in this instant family, that I resented the children without remorse. I resented their father for the decision's he'd made. I resented myself for choosing these struggles.

The past week stung 

The previous Monday I sat in front of our youngest child's teacher. She was factual and direct about her concerns, almost expressionless in desperation. 
"He's failing, he doesn't concentrate for more than a minute at a time", her eyes wide with anticipation. 

I cried and cried in the car park as we left for the start of our day. The decisions his mother had made while carrying him were finally being felt. It stung like acid reflux in the chest of reality, a reminder of past mistakes every time I look into his eyes. I carried his hurt because he never chose this, neither of them did. Yet I stood crying for them, me, not their parents. Me. 

Refusing to put him onto anything strong enough to alter his personality we found a short term solution and put him on a trial of scheduled medication for concentration. We have 1 month's supply of the stuff to prove ourselves and by we, I mean him. 

The night I met Zelna

Zelna is a world reknown child therapist, psychologist and kids life coach. Her talk on assisting children found myself and dad at her workshop the same night we found out about our youngest child's concentration issues. I didn't mention the eldest, but he's snowballing his way right into 'juvie' if he carries on the way he's going. They needed help, so I wanted to start with us - because of finances that is - not because the kids weren't a priority, but perhaps if we could learn something new for a couple bucks, it would help us in the long run when they got the therapy they needed. I was beginning to lose faith that I would find the person I needed to assist with the therapy I wanted for them on the financial terms we could afford. 

Beaulah listened with her eyes as she always does. She is so kind and caring this earth angel friend of mine. 

"I've built a wall Beaulah", I said, "I can't imagine smiling, laughing or caring for them anymore. I've checked out!"

I had shared with her how our meeting with Zelna had brought about a change of perspective in me, how it had softened my hardened heart and made me realise that my walls needed to come down, not just for the kids but for my own sanity. 

The only way out of this mess, would be to go back to where I started. Open my arms, open my heart, forgive and shine my light.
"Do what you do well with your children", Zelna had advised, and so I decided to share my gifts and talents with them and let them back into my world. 

My world had peace once. It had transparency and joy. Somewhere along the line the walls had become so high that I couldn't see my own light. 

Beaulah continued to listen, her kind words and tender advice echoed my hearts desires for laughter and serenity to be returned to our home. "It starts with you, your time with them, your one on one moments together", she explained, "you just need love, share your time and let those walls come down. These are the moment's that will not only make the difference now, but will be treasured forever!"

Yes, I felt guilty. I felt like I'd forgotten how to love to the point of being blind to what was really needed in our home. My maternal instincts, my humanity and my authentic self had flown out the window because of my anger and resentment, twisting a vine of animosity around my heart and suffocating my soul. 

Beaulah smiles at me and whispers, "If anyone can love those children the way they need to be loved, it's you!" And I smiled back because I knew she was right. 

We have since found a therapist and the children will commence emotional support and play therapy within the next 2 weeks. Anything can happen when you want it badly enough, and all I want for them is more than they will know. 

They are always listening

While sitting at the dining table this week, a gem was revealed to me, one that I would only appreciate a few days later. A delayed reaction of emotion hit me well after our meal was finished. 

Daddio and I always try and teach the kids a couple life lessons, as I would imagine most good parents do. We reflect on morality, right from wrong and our feelings almost every dinner time. Our dinner time has become our family time. Somewhere between bathing, homework and prepping for lunches, dinner time is our time to communicate and reflect as a family, as a team, unconditionally. 

So while we sat chatting about the day, we start talking about bullying at the school they are at. It is a problem that has escalated well past the point of urgency since my days at their age. Bullying has become the most concerning of all activities at their school other than the teaching standards and pass rates that keep dropping. 

Besides that, the youngest tells us about his day and eldest pipes up as he does at every opportunity he can get, contributing his two cents of anything that comes to mind. 

"It's okay if people don't like you", he says as his shoulders shrug at me. "If people don't like you, you just send them love, love them anyway. That's what you taught me." he says chewing on his carrot. "That's right my boy", I reply encouragingly and just like that dinner was over.  

It was only the next day that I realised just how poignant that statement was. While all this acting up, insubordination and school time shenanigans were taking place, something had sunk in. Something positive, something deeply good and wholesome had germinated within his psyche. 

He's been listening and even though I can't recall the exact moment that I instilled this unconditional pearl of love and wisdom, he credits me. He knows that even though his friends (or in my case, his mother) doesn't like me, you can still send them love. I am still sending her love. I will always send her love. 

Clearly, I'm doing a lot better at this than I realised. My heart is full of pride, my soul is full of purpose. I am their teacher and they are mine. 

Give yourself permission

There's an old adage about serenity.  The first time I heard it was at an AA meeting for the friends and family of alcoholics when I went with my mother as a young child, to a support group for the multiple addicts in our family. 

Years after that I found myself repeating this mantra over and over again at the various meetings I found myself at when my partners (quite a list of them) were all addicts themselves. I had chosen, albeit unconsciously, to surround myself with this behaviour way into my 20's. 

Until a couple of years ago, I chose addicts. I chose those with depression, anxiety, childhood issues. I chose people, broken and worn down by their own demons, ones that disguised themselves as real problems. Ones that simply needs to be acknowledged and set free by recognizing and accepting their own fears. Fears that turned their issues into monsters, into controlling parts of a soul and spirit that was always meant to be living a life of love, joy, peace and prosperity. 

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." 

No doubt you've heard this before, today I'm reading it as if it's the first time I've ever laid eyes on it. And today it makes more sense that it ever has. I've found the wisdom to know the difference between what I can and cannot change.  

The Victim Triangle  

The victim triangle, otherwise known as the Karpman drama triangle, is basically a social or psychological pattern of human behaviour we choose in our daily lives. One takes on the roll of the Victim, The Persecutor or the Rescuer, each with their own unhealthy and unstable consequences of self induced, toxic repetition.

The triangle is used in psychology to assist those in choosing the right behavioural approaches to their problems. In fact, I am quite au fait with this tool because one uses it in psychology sessions when discussing co-dependent relationships and the roles we take on within them. 

After my previous post, and in case you missed it you can read all about my burn out here, I decided to detach from the drama by choosing to step out of the roles that I found myself  put myself in and willingly chose to take on.  

Photo Credit : Google Images - David Emerald 2014 - www.PowerofTed.com

Drama-lama no more!

You often hear about how people get pushed to breaking point, or as you'll read in the previous post my doctor called it "rock bottom, adrenal fatigue". It's basically when you take on so much, that your body literally cannot keep up with the stress you're under. 

Here's what I was dealing with before I took my life back: 

• Their mother not paying maintenance after numerous months of promises while the kids live with us full time. Not - one - shiny - little - contribution.
• Financial loans I had undertaken to 'carry' his kids and us, while the money came in from his side, in a couple of months. A couple more months - still nothing. This includes lunches the kids don't eat because now they are fussy eaters since I gave them choices and treats. Payment of annual school photographs and every other conceivable item that this household needed for a full year, waiting on the hope and prayers of....
• A partner with the best intentions (and heart) in the world to pay me back, or hell even just contribute more than his half of the rent and pull his weight while he found a higher paying job (while I found myself paying for everything including his fuel in his car every week for a month. 
• Two small children under the age of 10, confused as hell, acting up and being generally bratty. One failing 2 of the school terms this year alone, getting into trouble with authority at school and the smallest literally just breaking everything he gets his hands on. 
• Resentment - a lot of it - eating me up like a cancer from the inside out. 

I'm sure you're reading the above thinking, "Hell's bells, is this woman mad, who gives up so much for so long and doesn't realise she's got herself a raw deal?", well my body gave in and my mind caught up later. And here I am. 

I am not a victim. I am not a rescuer and I will no persecute or be persecuted any longer. 

So, last week, while on the road to recovery mentally and emotionally as well as physically, I gave myself permission to not be the hero of this story. It is after all, not my responsibility, not my fault, not my doing, not even my duty to look after or even like these children. For a year, I've been carrying everyone and enabling everyone to just coast along and use me as a buffer from their drama, while I juggled pieces of broken communication, frustrated conversations and lack of funds. This, is supposed to be our dream come true. Instead, it's been a nightmare and I've allowed it.  No more. 

My steak in the ground

Sometimes you have to put your stake in the ground, in other words, make a big move. I chose to move in the direction of self preservation. I gave myself permission to leave the drama triangle and start living for myself, the bubbly, authentic and whole person I was before I chose this life, this drama, this man and his baggage. 

Does this mean that I'm leaving? I don't have to leave him/them to be free from these toxic emotions, resentment and hurt. I just have to set boundaries - and so does he with her. Yes, I have given an ultimatum and I know what needs to be done, but I will not accept being at the bottom of the prosperity list, while everyone else thrives. This isn't a charity, this is a team effort and I don't really like anyone right now, not even the person I've become. 

So here I am. I've booked movie nights with my girlfriends next week and I'm going to do a fun run with some of my friends at the end of the month. I'll be back at gym in a few weeks too. Unfortunately, if that excludes dad while he looks after his brood, that's his problem/duty/responsibility. It's not mean, it's not selfish, it's about being whole. I came into this as a whole person and I lost myself along the way. 

If you need me, I'll be getting my own life back. There will be times for family, time for romance and time for everyone else. One cannot be whole, when one spreads oneself to breaking point, so it is time to find balance by putting myself first once again. 

See you on the flip side of resentment, give yourself permission to live and free yourself from responsibilities that have nothing to do with you. My responsibility is to look after myself first, without burn out, fear, shame or destruction. 

I choose life and everyone is about to benefit from it. 

The day I got out the car

Let me not try fake my way into your book of approval by telling you all the things I want you to read. Things that make me look bigger, braver and bolder than I am. I'm no pushover, I'm not a wilting flower either.

I'm a lover

I'm a lover by default, factory setting and origin. Even when I tried martial arts for 3 years, I never managed to grade past the first three exams. If I'm honest it's because I just didn't have the personal discipline to get involved or pursue a sport that included me hurting people. There were many times that I would be reprimanded by my coach for smiling while sparring, a defense mechanism or perhaps, that I just saw the fun in jumping around a ring while neither of us took shots at the other.

Don't get me wrong, there were times that I won gold in my division and even provincial colours for my weight and grade category, but I'm not a fighter.  



Up against Goliath


I have no doubts about the physical contact possibilities that could erupt the day I get out of the car. The days when we have fetched the boys from their mom, I have stayed in the car, not from fear so much as respect for daddy. If I get out the car, I may regret it. I have to think of the children.

We're not dealing with a civil situation here, I have witnessed the many physical brawls that the ex has engaged in. We're talking punch up's with family and kitchen pan's being used as weapons. These people are the opposite of lovers. They are of class and culture that encourage fighting. They are the dog eat dog of our society. And I'm over here blogging - just saying.



The anticipation will kill me


Today I decided that I was going to get out the car. Not because I wanted to fight but because I wanted to get it over with. I needed to see what this mother of 2 children really looked like after her grief, guilt, pain and separation from her kids. I wanted to see the face of anguish. I was tired of waiting in the car every time with baited breath, worried that an extended fist would ambush me. 

Personally when I get angry I don make up, I work out, I feel sexy.
I knew she had been running around the neighbourhood over the last few months during her 'job search'. The version of her that I remembered, had been of a petite woman, with long pitch black hair that she flat ironed at her best. 

Her frame is much smaller than mine, in fact, eldest has actually asked daddy a couple months ago why men have smaller legs than woman. I cringed thinking my thunder thighs has contributed to that question. 

I recall my most recent break up and remember how I flung myself into 2.5 hour gym routines, personal spoils and spa sessions. I bet she looks amazing. She holds their hearts as their mother, perhaps I was competing against more than just emotional rights, perhaps she was the sexy, stellar vixen that had left me with the scraps of a man who had been downsized by her all his adult life. What if I get out the car and she's so fit and trim and takes a swing at me with her defined arms. What if, because I'm so unfit of late, she gets me on the ground and pummels me to oblivion in front of the children.

Even worse, what happens if her whack-job sister comes at me with a knife, or glass. She does this, all - the - time  so my fears are real and valid. Today, I'm getting out the car because it's time to introduce the kittens to each other. Time to let them hiss and spit and soon they will be friends. 

Now when I'm backed into a corner, feeling down or hard done by, I put on make up. I have no idea why but I put about 1 hour longer into my routine than I usually would. Last Sunday I felt horrific, sinus that turned to a chest infection and then bronchitis had me feeling (and looking) less than super confident. 

It was 15h30 in the afternoon, I had been laying in PJ's all weekend. Believe me this effort was necessary, I was about to face Goliath, and if I was to land up in hospital, I'd like to at least look shit hot. 


Then I opened the door


I sat in the car outside the driveway. Her crazy sister was parked inside the gates. My heart, pounding to say the least. How the hell would this go down? Was it too soon? I felt like it was the right time in my heart, I just felt that the plaster needed to be ripped from this festering wound and heal naturally, fresh air and dry blood. 

Taking a deep breath I opened the door, unsure if the shaking of my knees was adrenaline or perhaps the bronchitis kicking my butt. "I'll stand at the boot", I thought. This is where everyone usually all congregates. I mean, this is MY car after all, so I do have rights to open my own boot. Can you hear me reasoning with myself. 

Perhaps I could just open the boot and return to the front passenger seat. Like running to the out of bounds area at school and returning to safety just to say you did it. I would have felt far more in charge and confident in my drivers chair. But, love conquers all, I keep reminding myself.  This is the reason I'm standing facing the back side of my own car waiting for the axe to fall as the boys run to greet me and mom follows. 

She's never greeted me. She wouldn't, it's not her style. Her style is hate. Mine, love. We are the complete opposite of the other. She hates me. I feel compassion for her, not to say I like her, don't misunderstand me. I have enough resentment to fuel a small forest fire. But, I have compassion for her pain because it is the lack of light within her that makes her so, incredibly mean. I will shine, I will shine and hopefully keep all my teeth. 

And then she saw me. 

Her sister stood behind her, hardened face and scowling as if I was a dirty secret, the mistress, the concubine that broke up her "loving, pure and healthy" relationship with daddy. In fact, she referred to me a couple of months ago as a Jezebel. I was impressed, I didn't realise her vocabulary was that evolved. 


"The Monsters turned out to be just tree's" - Taylor Swift


I managed to calmly release a "Hello HER NAME HERE* and she mumbled in response. I knew I was doing the right thing. Her frame, still small, and although our eyes never met, my womanly radar managed to scan her once over in an instant. Her hair now cut into a frumpy bob above her ears, puffed out and blow-dried like an old woman. Her face devoid of make up, how could she have left out the make up? It's not like she didn't know I was going to be there, she always does. Where's the warrior paint? What is the trick up her sleeve or her version of strength and integrity?

As we climbed back into the car and drove off, I was injected with the rush of facing my greatest adversary. For years, even when daddy and I were not together, I would speak of her and her unsavory decisions to drink and drug through her pregnancies. I would refer to her when speaking to people about the effects of such. She was and still is, my greatest lesson. My greatest mirror.

Today she had set me free. Free from my own idea of how I was failing, heck, I was winning at this, I was winning at life! I had make upon, my war paint, AND I was the nice person who had persevered through the name calling, hours of comparison in my mind and feelings of failure. I had let myself down, beaten myself up and left myself for dead. It was never her that I needed to face, it was me.


I rejoiced!


Once alone I had a chance to speak to daddy about my new found insight in a way that wasn't conceited or boastful. I was giddy like a high school girl that just found out her crush liked her back. 

I asked him if he saw her hair - her hair, the lack of make up, OMG her hair!! He nodded and mentioned he had seen it in court two weeks back. He didn't mention it to me, did that mean he liked it? Did it mean it was so trivial that he didn't care to? 
I wasn't bothered, I was too happy and high on life because I had realised that I was in fact, the complete package. Not because I'm better than anyone else, not because she wasn't wearing make up, not because she had a crappy hairstyle but because I had released myself from the comparison war inside myself. I was good, happy and beautiful on the inside AND out. 

Later the conversation leaked further insight to their lives together. She never wore make up, ever! She never hugged, cuddled or kissed him. She never returned "I love you's" or reciprocated his efforts of sexual intimacy. She was devoid, incapable and detached from him. Once again my heart went out to her, once again my ego took a back seat and compassion stepped in. This is what happens to addicts, they let themselves go. They leave their self care at the door of addiction and get dragged down a road of decomposition. 

Yes, I rejoiced. The monsters turned out to be just tree's. I had been my own worst enemy, imagining that Kim Kardashian herself would pop out down the drive way with Louis Vuitton bag in hand. She'd be carrying tresses of well looked after hair around her shoulders and perfectly manicured fingernails that I hadn't had the privilege to afford since I took on this role. 

I imagined she would greet me with white teeth and sparkling eyes, that her life would be better, greater and more awesome than mine because she was looking after herself these days while the kids lived with us. She was their mother, surely this meant she was better than me?

I imagined smooth skin and long black eyelashes, that she would smile sensually at me and then daddy with this look of 'You know you want me' as she bent down to pick up the book that had fallen from the youngest's school bag while squeezing her pert bum cheek. 

But she didn't, she didn't because she's not. And if she was perfect and composed on the outside, I would have needed to extend myself just the same as I had with poise and grace.
I've extended the olive branch. If she decides to replant it, or use it as firewood, this is her choice and I can live with mine. My slate is clean, my heart is open and I'm sorry that I've been so incredibly hard on Me! 

I got out the car and with that I got out of the cloud of deception I'd been living in for so, so many years! I am good enough. Hell, I'm the best version of a mom without her own kids I can be and that, is why I got out the car in the first place.