The setting sun allows the stars to shine

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. 

Pushed past my boundaries

It's not resentment, it's pure frustration.
Two little children twisted and mangled from years of poor guidance and absent parents. Today I was pushed past my boundaries. 

The wheels fell off today

For the first time ever, I shed tears of pure frustration after delivering them safely to their daycare. Hours before this I'm feeding them, ensuring they are prepared for the day and allow for transparency and accountability in the space between home and not. 

Dramalama

So there we were, about to leave the house and the youngest has his brothers car, remote control car that cost me a fortune, being dragged by a piece of nylon he's fastened to the undercarriage. This is how it all began, followed by excuses from the eldest that he's scared to confront his brother (if you knew the authoritative, dominant personality you'd also call bullshit) and of course another 5 minute debate about why their seat belts aren't on (again) in my car. They never do this in their fathers car. 

The smirk that hurt more than a slap in the face

Our home is full of dangerous spiders that crop up from time to time. I don't normally kill spiders but these particular species can cause a lot of harm to children and animals so I insist we remove them. 

Before we left the house I had asked the youngest if he had washed his face, brushed his teeth and hair and his hands. A resounding and confident "Yes!" came out of his mouth. 

Just as we turned into the daycare mothers house, the eldest ejects his seat belt from it's fastened position. I SLAM on brakes, partially out of concern that one of the doors may be open and partially because my gut had told me one of them had done so on purpose. 

True as nuts, the eldest had done so. Now livid, I insist he puts his belt on until he has come to a complete stop. They never do this with their father. 

My wits end

As we arrive at the daycare gate, I see the youngest with pinched finger and thumb holding what looks like a bunch of black grass. "What on earth is that!", I exclaim. "It's a spiders nest," he retorts, "I found it on the wheel of the car." 

At this point, I burst out laughing with disbelief. Just 3 days earlier we had explained to this 7 year old that the dangers of the spiders in our home are real and yet here he is with a spiders nest pinched between finger and thumb. 

I get out of the vehicle and get to his side of the car. As he gets up his face and my eyes meet. Not only has he lied about having cleaned this morning, but his eyes are caked in sleep. The betrayal of knowing that he's not only lied to me, but lied so confidently cuts me to the core. He's irritated me, pushed me to breaking point and now this. Needless to say, I cried all the way to work. For the first time ever, I cried. I cried long, hard, real tears of frustration.

A reminder

Boundaries, I will not tolerate unacceptable behaviour and a round table meeting is about to commence. On the other side of frustration is love, on the other side of my sanity is a lack of boundaries. Time to get both back!

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.