A new chapter

In the early hours of this morning I decided to give this blog another try.

As I attempted to log on for the umpteenth time in two years, the password retrieval failed yet again.

While surveying the content of my posts back in 2015/16, two realities became evident to me.

1. I really miss blogging.

2. Those posts reflected some very real struggles and by the same token, some very precious memories.

Password prompts left me questioning the efficacy of my multi vitamin. My apparent porridge brain, which still lingers 9 weeks postpartum, leaves me at the mercy of vague, misty memories of my password combination. I sat trying to figure out what may have been quirky enough to make a successful password, nothing worked and then, Eureka!

So here I am, back on the bandwagon to share a new chapter with you. 

The moans and groans, the highlights and joys. Pretty much all the real, raw and primal rantings of a first time mother (yes, I had a baby of my own) coupled with some deep meaningful reflective thoughts and a full dose of humour - because successful living requires a positive attitude apparently.

Watch this space, it's good to be back!

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. 

The woman in the mirror

Sitting across from the therapist, I realised that I didn't have much to say to her, to ask for assistance with or to get answers about. My opening words were literally, "I have no idea why I actually came here today." 

Without sounding like I know it all, I realised that I had to find myself again and reconnect with my identity - and of course work on my resentment. But, for the life of me, what was a professional therapist going to tell me that I didn't already know? 

The Disconnect

As I sat blowing my nose while rehashing a year of emotional distress, it became apparent through my session that I've disconnected from this picture. Disconnected from people, from feeling. Disconnected and in turn, bitter. And guess who sits at the fore of my distress? Their mother. 

My issues, concerns and frustrations, albeit a huge responsibility I've taken on, have lead me to childhood and previous relationship matters that I simply haven't addressed until now. I never wanted to be the homewrecker, I never wanted to be the thorn in the side of a family union. That is how I grew up, how I was influenced and traumatised. 

To reconnect, one needs to empathize, release fear and work through the mirror image of the problem being presented. My problem is a person I cannot see nor speak to, yet I have eaten from the sweet fruit of drama and poisoned myself with her bitterness. 


Mirror Mirror 

The therapist turns to me and asks, "What is it that this woman represents to you?" 

Immediately all the irresponsible things she had done, said, felt and confessed to came to mind. "She's the complete opposite of me", I retorted, "her lack of responsibility and accountability." 

But, this in fact, is not what she represents. This woman, the mother of these two children I'm raising is my karmic lesson of compassion and unconditional love that I've chosen to turn my back on. 

I am no better than her, she is no better than I. We are two people that have chosen two different live paths and her children are a constant reminder of a polar opposite I've never experienced until her. She is, my mirror. 

A lesson in empathy

The therapist turns to me again, after a long gap of silence between my tears. "Imagine, for a moment, how it must feel for her. Imagine being alone, with someone else raising your children, with someone whom you shared 10 years of your life with. Imagine for a moment, how she feels, being a weekend mother, realising her shortfalls, her dreams and aspirations not materalized and seeing you with her family, living a life she perceives as perfect."

My face went numb, and that hollow feeling one gets in the pit of their stomach when a loss is felt. The slow, creeping vines of anger and resentment, transformed into sadness and withered inside me. How lonely she must feel. How much lose she too has suffered.  

While I realise that I wasn't the cause of her relationship breakdown, I've stepped into a relationship with a man that I have so much history with, that she too has so much history with. A man we shared at different times of our lives, children we share now, children that weren't part of my plan. Children that I've given my all to, sacrificed for, loved and been hurt by. Children that constantly remind me of a time in my life when their father and I could have been more, could have prevented their existence by staying together as teenagers. Their relationship wasn't based on what ours is, but that doesn't make her loss and grief any easier to swallow - for both of us. 

I felt like the other woman. I felt like, in a surreal way, I had stepped into and invaded a family that had nothing to do with me. A family that I hadn't chosen, and a family that I felt alienated from - because I never made them - they did. And while this realisation made me sick to pits of my being, I feel the happiest with him, the most content together that I've ever been in my life. As if, he was always mine, borrowed from me by the world and returned to me as destiny and fate would have it. 

Perhaps, this is how it's meant to be. Perhaps, I'm the love lesson that needs to be reflected into her life with action and in time. 

Extending love and letting go

So before everyone gets on the bandwagon of cliche's, "Everything happens for a reason", is top of my mind. I know that I cannot go back. I know that everything has happened by choice, by purpose and that these two little souls need the good from both of us, all of us. She is their mother, I am their guide and they have a very capable, very hands-on father. We should be a power team, not a toxic divide. 

I've never spoken ill of their mother, while there are always constant reminders of how she's slated me in my absence to them, in front of them. Funny how it always gets back to my ears through the children. 

My choice, right now, is to change my perspective. My choice is to let go of my unrealistic expectations that a bond that I share with their father is enough to get us through and make everything okay. Everything was not okay before I arrived. Everything is getting better, but this isn't a quick fix. This is life, these are lives, my life, his life, hers and theirs. 

The therapist closes her book at the end of our session. "You can live with bitterness and become twisted with resentment, or you can choose to love her in her imperfection."

I may not be ready for that, I'm still trying to come to terms with feeling like she stole my life. The life that in retrospect, I was meant to have. Not raise her children. 

Knowing she willingly carried children that would be subjected to alcohol and drug abuse makes me resent myself even more for not being brave enough to say yes instead of no to a child that would have changed our entire lives. 

Perhaps I'm just living out my own guilt, perhaps this is the bigger picture. Perhaps, I've got so much more to learn and gain with so much less to sacrifice than I realise. 

Let the healing begin. 

No one understands it, not even myself.

I've been rallying through this instant family role for a year now, properly since the beginning of this year (2015) all on my own steam, no one gets it, it's not encouraged, nor endorsed by anyone who knows, loves or meets me. People don't get this, not even I do. 

I read a short Babble article this morning that just summed up all my emotions and put everything into perspective that's pretty much, what I call life at this moment. 

I have no village. 

During a very real chat with Daddio recently, I lay all my cards on the table about boundaries. I've found that resentment and fear are buddies, and that where there is resentment, there's most likely an underlying fear that someone or something is going to have to be sacrificed. A least in my mind. 

Having identified this conflicting duo of emotions, I've managed to stop, take a meaningful breath and then ask myself, "What are you afraid of in this moment of resentment?" 

Nine out of ten times, it is the fear of loss I'll endure, loss of something physical or precious that I've worked for. The other side is the fear of lack of appreciation I'll receive from anyone, lack of gratitude, being taken for granted, being resented back. Something may get damaged that I've worked hard for (when they sit swinging their legs on my new camping chairs on the lawn or perhaps I'm concerned that I'm at the bottom of the priority list as the last bits of my favourite mayonnaise are put up for auction to the highest bidder without my consideration and yes, it's just bloody mayonnaise, why do I act like it's important).  I'm constantly wrestling with resentment and releasing it by speaking about my fears and concerns as they arise, which set me free from the burden of carrying them silently, sometimes for days. 

Try discipline a child without raising your hands, your voice or  asking yourself why you signed up for this. I've tried, been and done everything in my power, perhaps this is my emotional rock bottom, my cry for help. 

I need a village, and my tribe is very, very small. I don't know anyone who is in the same position as I am. I'm gapping this and I may just be losing my mind.  

Why am I putting myself through this? 

So here I am, letting it all out. The toothpaste in our bathroom has been forced down into the basin drain by 6 year old fingers his solo game continues in silence. 

Thousands of little germs greet his dirty fingers, the same ones he was meant to wash prior, along with the booger in his nose that needed to be removed. Yes, he's 6, I get it, but it's my basin too. 

I stand watching from a distance as he takes his toothbrush and sweeps up the remains of our dirty basin (please don't act like yours is spotless 24/7) bringing the debris to his little mouth. It is in this moment I realise that my en-suite bathroom has been overthrown, my sanctuary and only place to hide has been taken over because two little boys have to be separated otherwise there are distractions and fighting and nothing really gets done. This is bullshit.

When I realise that he is in possession and alternating 2 toothpaste tubes (and neither are the junior brands I brought him last week), I in turn, realise is our tube of adult toothpaste. 

He has now managed to mix up the only 2 tubes of toothpaste in our bathroom, one of which was for his exclusive use during a severe mouth infection he had two weeks ago. Now I know where my ulcer and sinus infection have come from *rolls eyes*.

My blood pressure starts to rise, I've been sick and perhaps this is the reason why. Perhaps, if these were my own biological children, my willingness to share bodily fluids with them, including germs and diseases, I wouldn't be so pissed. Why am I putting myself through this, why! I share my resentments, Daddio quickly takes the tubes back to their original bathroom. I'm sans toothpaste I can trust. Now would be a good time to tell me I'm being oversensitive. 

Toughen up or leave

I will admit, that leaving this place I call home with two small manipulators with very obvious psychological issues, has become a very real option. It's not because I don't love their father, God knows how much I love their father, it's because I'm wondering if I've got what it takes to do this. 

But maybe, this isn't about loving myself more, maybe it's learning to dance in the rain as they say, about setting boundaries in place and being happy - for the most part - without losing my own sense of identity. 

So I made myself a priority. (Ha.)

It ends by starting anew

And this week I look forward to so many exciting new adventures, on my own, because that's what all women need, with or without a village, with or without offspring. They need time out, pampering, friends and that moment when you get to a set of traffic lights, get checked out by a cute guy next to you and feel that ziiiiiiiing of, "Yeah, I still got it!". 

So I've set out a date for myself, all my needs cannot be fulfilled by everyone in my life, so I'm making my own list and prioritizing myself once again. I'm seeing old friends for lunch and coffee dates that I've failed to prioritize over the last year, I've got a gym date with my bestie (me) I'm starting to drink green tea, with the intention of getting my sexy, un-mommied body back in shape - because that's what I signed up for. For independence, for self preservation, for date nights and movies and memories. Sorry Daddio, it's not personal, well it is, but not like that :)

Not because I'm selfish, but because I'm worth it. Not because you don't make me happy but because you can't give me everything I need, all of the time, and that wouldn't be sensible to expect anyone on this planet to make me (or you) whole. As my dad always says, "Life is a Do It Yourself Job". 

No one gives 100% of their effort, 100% of their time to 100% of anything - it's not possible. Balance will set me free, balance is the answer, balance is the difference between expecting to be priority and then commanding it when the time is right. 

Balance cannot allow resentment to come into play when balance allows for new adventures, stimulus and experiences. Time out, time away - without romance, without partners, without even being angry about it. Simply, just - for - you! So you can grow, so you can live, so you can create your own memories, experiences and identity. 

Balance is in my own hands. Maybe then, people will stop asking me what I'm still doing with a man and his two children and all their baggage. An ex and her shopping list of tendencies to give less f#$%s than anyone I know about her responsibilities. 

And perhaps when I'm smiling again because I've sorted myself out - everyone will realise, including myself, that love is enough and boundaries are everything.