So here I am, it's Sunday and I've spent the most part of my weekend in tears.
I would need to elaborate on the last two months of our lives, nothing less than a living hell with a boy (the eldest) who has gone out of his way to make his personal misery known to all, by means of dishonesty and deceit. Our home has been disrupted, our health affected and joy sucked from each day despite our efforts.
The darkest hour of night is just before the dawn
Thursday evening we receive a video clip from their mother. My fiancee had been in touch with her to request funding assistance, a continual game of smoke and mirrors from her side. Her aim was to take a stab at us, as she does, highlighting just how miserable her eldest, golden child is living in our home. As if he's subjected to anything other than a normal, balanced household that includes routine and structure, chores and discipline. It's all the opposite he would receive from her, during their weekends he thrives on 8 hours of tv games and rules the roost.
As the video played on, we watched this 9 year old boy face down on her bed, wailing muffled words to the crowd of family members on her side who lapped up his apparent agony. His eyes were dry and his words were forced. You don't have to be a biological mother to know when your child is pulling a fast one.
Well I know him, and he was milking the attention. He's always been a manipulative little individual. His mother's voice can be heard in the background, pacifying him through his performance. It's all so transparent and predictable, we're not wounded by this apparent attack from her side. What she didn't realise when sending the video, with claims that her son hates "everything about living with us" was that we wouldn't be denying it.
Funny she should video record this all too, right? A little strange and equally as deceitful, as if these children are a prize and the winner takes all.
Let me tell you that we have sought counsel from the school, from professionals, from anyone who has problem children of their own (apparently there aren't many) as well attended life coaching for kids as per my previous blog post. We have watched the eldest pull his brother down, 'throw him under the bus' at every opportunity and manipulate everyone around him with no regard for the rules. We have had meetings with the teacher, found out that he's not being bullied but in fact, is the bully at school. We have talked, bargained, incentivized, reprimanded and timed out to no avail. Every day it's the same thing, disruptions and anarchy from morning till bed time. This isn't living.
We've dealt with sulking and tears, insubordination and his disregard for authority, at the school and at home. This child, aged 9, is a law unto himself and all this time, we've been trying to teach him between right and wrong, trying to prevent him from being with his mother and her toxic energy for long enough to infect him with the same. But children go back to what they know, and we've grown and he wants what he knows. A space where he is revered and the rules are few. The youngest is treated poorly, disciplined and spoken down to by her, but not the eldest. He's her golden child.
Recently we implored her to sign consent forms for the children to attend therapy based on our medical savings. Her nonchalant response included an attack on our judgement and a suggestion to take them for ice cream and talk to the children about their problems.
I'm sure you can imagine my personal resentments. I've wiped those children's tears, their cuts and grazes. I've ironed school uniforms, danced with them through the house, played hide and seek, disciplined them, imparting wisdom and guidance. I've purchased step parenting books, searched the internet for answers, met with the teachers and principal of their school. I've purchased lunch boxes, school stationery, snacks and treats. I've spent money on clothing, shoes, bedding and toys. I've planned Christmases and birthday and traditions. I've paid for school photographs, times table posters and assisted with school projects.
I've tucked them into bed, bathed them, helped them when they've been sick. I've taken them to their first dental appointments and check up's thereafter. I've scheduled doctors appointments, gone to sports and cultural events at their school and hugged them before bed and every day before they leave our home. But ice cream will solve these problems, as if we haven't already tried to speak to them and make our intentions to help known. Why didn't I think of the ice cream!
Their mother recently took him out of detention where he was meant to serve a Friday afternoon for bullying another child. Her immediate reaction to this news was that the school was to blame and she "wouldn't accept it". He's been failing school, skipped homework at aftercare to attend an unauthorised Judo lesson because he "felt like it". Perhaps ice cream would solve these problems?
Out came the stars
Friday morning, en route to school, their dad asked the eldest what was so bad about living with us. The tall tales and roundabout answers started with "My brother is the reason I hate living with you", followed by "I don't know" and "It's the shouting".
When he was showed the video, his final response was "I don't know, it's just everything" and so we went home, got them to pack their bags and granted him the desires of his heart. They were delivered to their mother, with all their things in hand, no animosity, no resentment on our part, but supported this decision for the sake of his sanity and ours.
The sun set on that traumatic Friday evening, both dad and I crying big tears with heavy hearts. Mixed feelings of relief, disappointment and affliction for the almost 2 years we thought we could 'save them' from negativity and plant seeds of wholeness and goodness.
Just like that, they were out of our daily lives. The eldest jumped into his grandparents car, having being reminded to say goodbye to us. Our hearts heavy, yet our minds at ease knowing this is their path and we've done our best. The youngest oblivious to what has transpired and the fate that lies ahead of him.
I've realised that my sanity has been tried and tested over and over again. There was a time when I doubted myself. I've realised that I haven't failed, it's not that I cannot handle children being in my space, but our peace, cannot be compromised to the point of self destruction. There had to come a time when we chose peace over doing what was right. That day came unexpectedly sooner than any of us realised. Just like that, the battle between what those children know as normal and where we were going on our path, were conflicting and couldn't be done simultaneously.
I thank my earth angels, friends, supporters, family and my partner for all their counsel, care, encouragement and guidance. I thank my Higher Power and all my Heavenly Angels for support and strength. For those who told me I was 'crazy to accept the baggage', you helped me realise what I was fighting for and the true meaning of commitment.
In closing, their mother has never contributed a single cent. She's done absolutely nothing to contribute toward their welfare, their education, their livelihood. Our hearts are at peace knowing that in choosing to respect the childrens wishes to be with her permanently, giving them what they want and honouring their decisions, we have granted ourselves serenity. We will always be there for them and we've reminded them too. They may have hard lessons to learn living with her, perhaps they will thrive. Perhaps we just have to continue to be the best versions of ourselves in order to carry on being the light in their lives. Who knows.
Now it is time for us to heal and regenerate, without guilt, without disruption and with our own permission to let go, and let God.
It's over and that's okay.
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Sunday, 12 June 2016
Wednesday, 16 March 2016
The Wood From The Tree's
I won't lie, it's been a challenging start to the year.
The eldest is failing, the youngest doesn't listen - to anything.
They are both incapable of going aday a moment, without a lie.
Somewhere along the line, I questioned to myself if this was all worth it, somewhere along the line, I reminded myself that I've committed my life to their father and that in turn, this is part of the package. I'm still trying to figure out if this is a raw deal or an opportunity.
Mommyhood - no training required
So here I was thinking to myself, that things would progress. That life, like everything else in my daydreamers mind, would fall into it's perfect place with enough attention. Sadly, I've been wrong all along. This isn't about me and this isn't about how I can fix them. They are damaged children, with damaged perceptions about life.
I often hear my hubby-to-be repeating himself to the kids. Another day, another session of shouting at two children who know the rules, know the routine, know what is expected. They still don't do it. They are addicted to the drama that comes with the fight.
Later, I realised that no parent actually know what they are doing, how can they? You get children that don't come with instruction manuals, advice that comes from people with their own set of ideals for their children, no "one size fit's all" here, I'm afraid. Everyone, is just winging it!
Another little meltdown
I'm almost getting used to being in a state of depression and frustration. I know that I need to love them, but I also don't have to. So somewhere between wanting to be this vessel of unconditional love and purity, the resentment is real.
Somewhere along the last couple of weeks, I realised that I don't have the answers, and that these children aren't exactly 'normal' either. They are little Bonsai tree's of toxic belief systems and emotionally absent parents. They manipulate and feast off the carcass of emotional maturity like a savage beast that is driven by the ego. And then, my ego gets sucked into the same, and our ego's feast as my Higher Self sits and shakes her head at another lost battle.
What is normal anyway? Is lying normal when it involves hurting people you love? My gut instinct tells me these kids aren't normal children. Recently, their mother was informed by the youngest child, that I drove over his hand (which I obviously hadn't) and on further investigation found out he did it to make his mother angry. Mission accomplished!
When we asked why he would do such a thing, he admitted that he knew his mother would lash out at his father. He explained that (please sit down for the next part) he wanted to make his mother angry, who would in turn get his father into trouble and all for the sake of revenge because he was angry with his father for reprimanding him every morning for dawdling through the morning routine and fighting with his brother. (Insert psychosis here!)
The repercussions of parenting
After listening to and witnessing how two people can make children but not be accountable for their emotional well-being, due to their own lack of personal awareness, I'm sitting with two children in my life that have not only experienced a separation in their family as they knew it, but have never really had the role models they should have had, until now.
I've been made so aware that, although we have the best intentions for our children, if we are not whole, we cannot impart wholeness onto them and into their lives. If we are not emotionally stable, secure and growing, we cannot expect, emotionally stable, secure and developing children in our lives. What we put in to ourselves, really is what we get out in them.
I've witnessed how my positive, spiritual influence, my life lessons, my affirmations and guidance hasn't fallen on deaf ears. What you invest in your marriage, your partner, your children and your family will, for the most part, allow you will live in peace as everyone grows in their own time and at their own pace with a healthy, solid foundation.
My challenge is learning to stay positive in a seemingly depressing environment, with children who aren't my problem, children I didn't bring into this world or want in any shape or form in my life. My challenge is learning to be that positive influence when (almost always) I've checked out emotionally to prevent further hurt and protect myself from the pain and inconvenience they cause me.
How do we become the best versions of ourselves, and in turn, how do we stay the best version of ourselves as our children watch our motivation, lack thereof, our inspiration, depression, anxiety, frustrations, joys, victories and pain.
I look forward to doing this all again for my own flesh and blood, I imagine that it would be worth the sacrifice.
Right now, I'm incredibly grateful that school holidays are here, so that they don't have to be - and I'm okay with feeling that way.
The eldest is failing, the youngest doesn't listen - to anything.
They are both incapable of going a
Somewhere along the line, I questioned to myself if this was all worth it, somewhere along the line, I reminded myself that I've committed my life to their father and that in turn, this is part of the package. I'm still trying to figure out if this is a raw deal or an opportunity.
Mommyhood - no training required
So here I was thinking to myself, that things would progress. That life, like everything else in my daydreamers mind, would fall into it's perfect place with enough attention. Sadly, I've been wrong all along. This isn't about me and this isn't about how I can fix them. They are damaged children, with damaged perceptions about life.
I often hear my hubby-to-be repeating himself to the kids. Another day, another session of shouting at two children who know the rules, know the routine, know what is expected. They still don't do it. They are addicted to the drama that comes with the fight.
Later, I realised that no parent actually know what they are doing, how can they? You get children that don't come with instruction manuals, advice that comes from people with their own set of ideals for their children, no "one size fit's all" here, I'm afraid. Everyone, is just winging it!
Another little meltdown
I'm almost getting used to being in a state of depression and frustration. I know that I need to love them, but I also don't have to. So somewhere between wanting to be this vessel of unconditional love and purity, the resentment is real.
Somewhere along the last couple of weeks, I realised that I don't have the answers, and that these children aren't exactly 'normal' either. They are little Bonsai tree's of toxic belief systems and emotionally absent parents. They manipulate and feast off the carcass of emotional maturity like a savage beast that is driven by the ego. And then, my ego gets sucked into the same, and our ego's feast as my Higher Self sits and shakes her head at another lost battle.
What is normal anyway? Is lying normal when it involves hurting people you love? My gut instinct tells me these kids aren't normal children. Recently, their mother was informed by the youngest child, that I drove over his hand (which I obviously hadn't) and on further investigation found out he did it to make his mother angry. Mission accomplished!
When we asked why he would do such a thing, he admitted that he knew his mother would lash out at his father. He explained that (please sit down for the next part) he wanted to make his mother angry, who would in turn get his father into trouble and all for the sake of revenge because he was angry with his father for reprimanding him every morning for dawdling through the morning routine and fighting with his brother. (Insert psychosis here!)
The repercussions of parenting
After listening to and witnessing how two people can make children but not be accountable for their emotional well-being, due to their own lack of personal awareness, I'm sitting with two children in my life that have not only experienced a separation in their family as they knew it, but have never really had the role models they should have had, until now.
I've been made so aware that, although we have the best intentions for our children, if we are not whole, we cannot impart wholeness onto them and into their lives. If we are not emotionally stable, secure and growing, we cannot expect, emotionally stable, secure and developing children in our lives. What we put in to ourselves, really is what we get out in them.
I've witnessed how my positive, spiritual influence, my life lessons, my affirmations and guidance hasn't fallen on deaf ears. What you invest in your marriage, your partner, your children and your family will, for the most part, allow you will live in peace as everyone grows in their own time and at their own pace with a healthy, solid foundation.
My challenge is learning to stay positive in a seemingly depressing environment, with children who aren't my problem, children I didn't bring into this world or want in any shape or form in my life. My challenge is learning to be that positive influence when (almost always) I've checked out emotionally to prevent further hurt and protect myself from the pain and inconvenience they cause me.
How do we become the best versions of ourselves, and in turn, how do we stay the best version of ourselves as our children watch our motivation, lack thereof, our inspiration, depression, anxiety, frustrations, joys, victories and pain.
I look forward to doing this all again for my own flesh and blood, I imagine that it would be worth the sacrifice.
Right now, I'm incredibly grateful that school holidays are here, so that they don't have to be - and I'm okay with feeling that way.
Wednesday, 2 December 2015
It's not them, it's me.
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.
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.
Sunday, 17 May 2015
Broody, Guilty, Mad
Since I took on this instant family feat, everyone has been a critic.
My own father brazenly chirped in the beginning that I had chosen this life and that I should live with it. Clearly he had forgotten that he took on my mother who had 3 young boys when she married him.
So I haven't been honest about something, yep, I have a dirty secret.
Seeing as this is a nameless, faceless blog, I'm happy to release my burdens to the world without any real repercussions.
Broody - Prima Donna Me
So I never thought I'd say this but I offered to put a child to sleep, rock him to be exact, while at a braai with friends. The baby was a stranger, so were his parents. But, I offered. Offered. Seeing that we're being honest with each other, let me tell you that I just wanted to feel what it was like to entirely be in the moment of inconvenient motherhood - and I think I'm ready, really ready for a child of my own.
Ask me a year ago and I would have told you that broodiness is natures way of tricking you into conceiving a child - can you say jaded, but the reason will follow. There I stood smiling like the world had just blessed me with a thousand gifts of emotional bliss. His little head rested on the bend of my forearm as I gently swayed him to sleep, rhythmically tapping on his bum and humming ever so quietly to myself. Perhaps a neon sign had erected itself above my head, as a stranger at the braai yelled over to me, "Broody aren't you!"
I was crushed that I had been caught out while relishing in private, and yet there it was for all to see, quite publicly it seems. (Note to self: Work on poker face)
Previously, there was a very palpable annoyance that I experienced when it came to the challenge of putting a child to sleep. I'm sure there are many parents out there scoffing as they read this, thinking "My God, she's got NO idea what it's like to accept that challenge at 01:30 am after 2 hours of sleep!" and maybe they're right. But, right now, I'm yearning for this, albeit the serious guilt, remorse, sadness and a hint of anger I feel about the following dirty secret.
Guilty - My dirty secret
What I haven't told you is that daddy and I met 16 years ago. He was my first love and I was his. I didn't know then what I know now. Firstly that he reciprocated the cocktail of (slightly obsessed) emotion that I felt for him and secondly that we would share the next 16 years together, in one way or another.
How could I have known, I was 17, as ignorant as they came and he had a reputation as a player. Such a "hardcore" reputation that it only dawned on me 8 months ago when we found each other again and recommitted ourselves to a future together that I realised (DUH!) that I was his first - you know - his first, first! Not much street cred there, how could I have been so naive and immature.
I had been so stupid, 16 years have passed. We had enjoyed fleeting moments, club hook up's and the occasional rendezvous over the next 7 years that followed. He had settled down (sorta) after being told that 4 months into his new relationship that he was going to be a dad. I won't lie, I was gutted. A couple of months earlier we had talked about a future. He wanted us to start fresh, his concerns over this new love of his worried him. He had seen the warning signs and chose to ignore them, he confided in me.
We had discussed his worries and while I was trying to be supportive and neutral in my approach (I mean I didn't want to influence his future) I decided to encourage him to follow his heart - and he did, straight into her arms.
In turn I endured multiple failed relationships, two failed engagements and a whole lot of heartache.
Fast forward and here we are, with 2 children in tow. He chose me again.
"It was always you", he had confessed 8 months ago. Words that lead me to realise it was in fact, always him too.
So what's the dirty secret? Well, daddy and I were so crazy deep in love when we met, back when we were teens, that we failed to protect ourselves or at least take precautionary measures while doing the funky monkey - and just like that, we were pregnant.
It was a blur, the kind of blur that one experiences when really, really traumatised. This was a big deal for a Christian girl to handle and believe me my mother took it better than expected, while my father to this day, doesn't know the truth.
I remember wanting to just press the reset button on my life. I was the girl with the player boyfriend remember? What kind of life would this mean for me? I was the girl with the stellar future, the one going places. In my mind he was the player that was just in this for the ride. I had to press reset.
Daddy had gone out and bought himself a cigar when I told him the news. I can't remember telling him, I just remember going for a scan with him and seeing that tiny little bean on the screen. I was too scared to be happy and when I felt compelled to join him in his happiness I felt guilty, after all, I had done a terrible thing. A thing that my very own mother had threatened me with my life with for years and years before. As mentioned, my mother had 3 kids of her own by the time she was 21. I had decided that it was a life that I couldn't handle, I was a child myself when I look back, so how I made that decision quickly is beyond me.
Perhaps a part of me knew I was too stunted to handle the truth. After I terminated the pregnancy at 7 weeks, ironically at the same hospital I was born in, daddy went on a self destruct mission which included a life of drugs, alcohol, nightclubs and loose women. We never lost touch for the 7 years after that, he was my constant. I know everything about his sordid past and he knows about mine - it is the epitome of acceptance and purity. The epitome of friendship.
Many people ask why we broke up in the first place. Well my dear readers, it is because we were both too young to commit, in short he and I were unfaithful to each other, both dealing with some very grown up emotions and hurt each other in the most brutal way - a way that fueled drunken nights, hardened hearts and the most bitter of associations of each other, coupled with a very obvious and tangible love and attraction that is still there all these years later.
My dirty secret is knowing that we would have had a 15 year old child. A child that was made of the purest, most innocent love, a love that has clearly stood the test of time. Here I am raising his children with a woman who tricked him (by her own admission) into pregnancy and then drank throughout both, terminating one in between. Is this my karma or his? Is this God's timing or just the consequence of a poor decision.
Mad - Who would have known.
Every time someone asked me if I regretted my decision to terminate I denied it. I denied it because it didn't matter, I denied it because I had a future ahead of me that didn't include my baby daddy. My little heavenly soul is taken care of. A couple of years ago an ex of mine suffered a heart attack and passed away in his early thirties, taken too soon from his family a year or so after our break up. His sister contacted me at the beginning of 2014 with a spiritual message she had received from him. She had never known of my teenage pregnancy and told me that her brother wanted me to know that he was with "the baby" and queried whether him and I had conceived. I knew exactly what she was referring to.
It took me many years to get to the point that I could talk about it, now I just want to help the youth of today with these decisions, educate them on being 'safe'. Have I screwed up or have I screwed up - wow! The regret I feel is heavy, it weighs on my heart and squeezes my soul. Now, more than ever.
It could have worked I guess, perhaps it would have been to our detriment? Perhaps my greatest guilt comes from not knowing how this would have all turned out. Now I'm raising two young children from another woman with a man who was always meant to be mine. Is this my punishment? God, I want a child of my own. You know my heart, my hurts and my hatred for the decisions I've made. Now that terminated pregnancy matters, it matters now because we're back together, it matters more now than I ever thought it would.
Maybe one day
We sat together at a restaurant table recently, the kids had just returned from the jungle gyms for a sip of apple juice. An older woman sat across from us commends daddy on his strong genes.
"Gosh you have beautiful boys" she says "perhaps you should tell mommy it's time to have a little girl" she smiles suggestively at me. "We're working on it", daddy says, and he squeezes my hand under the table.
Life over the last 8 months, has been the sweetest and most bitter pill to swallow. My turn will come, I'm here, we're in this together.
I may as well accept the beautiful mess I am inside, we have so much history and so much to look forward to.
My own father brazenly chirped in the beginning that I had chosen this life and that I should live with it. Clearly he had forgotten that he took on my mother who had 3 young boys when she married him.
So I haven't been honest about something, yep, I have a dirty secret.
Seeing as this is a nameless, faceless blog, I'm happy to release my burdens to the world without any real repercussions.
Broody - Prima Donna Me
So I never thought I'd say this but I offered to put a child to sleep, rock him to be exact, while at a braai with friends. The baby was a stranger, so were his parents. But, I offered. Offered. Seeing that we're being honest with each other, let me tell you that I just wanted to feel what it was like to entirely be in the moment of inconvenient motherhood - and I think I'm ready, really ready for a child of my own.
Ask me a year ago and I would have told you that broodiness is natures way of tricking you into conceiving a child - can you say jaded, but the reason will follow. There I stood smiling like the world had just blessed me with a thousand gifts of emotional bliss. His little head rested on the bend of my forearm as I gently swayed him to sleep, rhythmically tapping on his bum and humming ever so quietly to myself. Perhaps a neon sign had erected itself above my head, as a stranger at the braai yelled over to me, "Broody aren't you!"
I was crushed that I had been caught out while relishing in private, and yet there it was for all to see, quite publicly it seems. (Note to self: Work on poker face)
Previously, there was a very palpable annoyance that I experienced when it came to the challenge of putting a child to sleep. I'm sure there are many parents out there scoffing as they read this, thinking "My God, she's got NO idea what it's like to accept that challenge at 01:30 am after 2 hours of sleep!" and maybe they're right. But, right now, I'm yearning for this, albeit the serious guilt, remorse, sadness and a hint of anger I feel about the following dirty secret.
Guilty - My dirty secret
What I haven't told you is that daddy and I met 16 years ago. He was my first love and I was his. I didn't know then what I know now. Firstly that he reciprocated the cocktail of (slightly obsessed) emotion that I felt for him and secondly that we would share the next 16 years together, in one way or another.
How could I have known, I was 17, as ignorant as they came and he had a reputation as a player. Such a "hardcore" reputation that it only dawned on me 8 months ago when we found each other again and recommitted ourselves to a future together that I realised (DUH!) that I was his first - you know - his first, first! Not much street cred there, how could I have been so naive and immature.
I had been so stupid, 16 years have passed. We had enjoyed fleeting moments, club hook up's and the occasional rendezvous over the next 7 years that followed. He had settled down (sorta) after being told that 4 months into his new relationship that he was going to be a dad. I won't lie, I was gutted. A couple of months earlier we had talked about a future. He wanted us to start fresh, his concerns over this new love of his worried him. He had seen the warning signs and chose to ignore them, he confided in me.
We had discussed his worries and while I was trying to be supportive and neutral in my approach (I mean I didn't want to influence his future) I decided to encourage him to follow his heart - and he did, straight into her arms.
In turn I endured multiple failed relationships, two failed engagements and a whole lot of heartache.
Fast forward and here we are, with 2 children in tow. He chose me again.
"It was always you", he had confessed 8 months ago. Words that lead me to realise it was in fact, always him too.
So what's the dirty secret? Well, daddy and I were so crazy deep in love when we met, back when we were teens, that we failed to protect ourselves or at least take precautionary measures while doing the funky monkey - and just like that, we were pregnant.
It was a blur, the kind of blur that one experiences when really, really traumatised. This was a big deal for a Christian girl to handle and believe me my mother took it better than expected, while my father to this day, doesn't know the truth.
I remember wanting to just press the reset button on my life. I was the girl with the player boyfriend remember? What kind of life would this mean for me? I was the girl with the stellar future, the one going places. In my mind he was the player that was just in this for the ride. I had to press reset.
Daddy had gone out and bought himself a cigar when I told him the news. I can't remember telling him, I just remember going for a scan with him and seeing that tiny little bean on the screen. I was too scared to be happy and when I felt compelled to join him in his happiness I felt guilty, after all, I had done a terrible thing. A thing that my very own mother had threatened me with my life with for years and years before. As mentioned, my mother had 3 kids of her own by the time she was 21. I had decided that it was a life that I couldn't handle, I was a child myself when I look back, so how I made that decision quickly is beyond me.
Perhaps a part of me knew I was too stunted to handle the truth. After I terminated the pregnancy at 7 weeks, ironically at the same hospital I was born in, daddy went on a self destruct mission which included a life of drugs, alcohol, nightclubs and loose women. We never lost touch for the 7 years after that, he was my constant. I know everything about his sordid past and he knows about mine - it is the epitome of acceptance and purity. The epitome of friendship.
Many people ask why we broke up in the first place. Well my dear readers, it is because we were both too young to commit, in short he and I were unfaithful to each other, both dealing with some very grown up emotions and hurt each other in the most brutal way - a way that fueled drunken nights, hardened hearts and the most bitter of associations of each other, coupled with a very obvious and tangible love and attraction that is still there all these years later.
My dirty secret is knowing that we would have had a 15 year old child. A child that was made of the purest, most innocent love, a love that has clearly stood the test of time. Here I am raising his children with a woman who tricked him (by her own admission) into pregnancy and then drank throughout both, terminating one in between. Is this my karma or his? Is this God's timing or just the consequence of a poor decision.
Mad - Who would have known.
Every time someone asked me if I regretted my decision to terminate I denied it. I denied it because it didn't matter, I denied it because I had a future ahead of me that didn't include my baby daddy. My little heavenly soul is taken care of. A couple of years ago an ex of mine suffered a heart attack and passed away in his early thirties, taken too soon from his family a year or so after our break up. His sister contacted me at the beginning of 2014 with a spiritual message she had received from him. She had never known of my teenage pregnancy and told me that her brother wanted me to know that he was with "the baby" and queried whether him and I had conceived. I knew exactly what she was referring to.
It took me many years to get to the point that I could talk about it, now I just want to help the youth of today with these decisions, educate them on being 'safe'. Have I screwed up or have I screwed up - wow! The regret I feel is heavy, it weighs on my heart and squeezes my soul. Now, more than ever.
It could have worked I guess, perhaps it would have been to our detriment? Perhaps my greatest guilt comes from not knowing how this would have all turned out. Now I'm raising two young children from another woman with a man who was always meant to be mine. Is this my punishment? God, I want a child of my own. You know my heart, my hurts and my hatred for the decisions I've made. Now that terminated pregnancy matters, it matters now because we're back together, it matters more now than I ever thought it would.
Maybe one day
We sat together at a restaurant table recently, the kids had just returned from the jungle gyms for a sip of apple juice. An older woman sat across from us commends daddy on his strong genes.
"Gosh you have beautiful boys" she says "perhaps you should tell mommy it's time to have a little girl" she smiles suggestively at me. "We're working on it", daddy says, and he squeezes my hand under the table.
Life over the last 8 months, has been the sweetest and most bitter pill to swallow. My turn will come, I'm here, we're in this together.
I may as well accept the beautiful mess I am inside, we have so much history and so much to look forward to.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)