Let’s be real for a moment…

Thank god for this space. I know I can’t say this to anyone as they just won’t get it and they’ll judge.. :/ my mum is… difficult… we barely speak – she’s the chipping away at you, bitter and resentful at the world type… as well as being a very physically abusive mother when we were kids… she calls for the kids bdays or to tell me someone has died. I rarely take the calls. It takes me days to get over them… her partner of nearly 30 years made my life hell all through my teen years, finally beating me up one time so I moved out of home. A few months later, I was visiting and he beat me up again – in front of my mother, who took his side – telling me she’d given up her happiness and life for us kids and it was time for her to have her own. I haven’t spoken to him in years, but I’ve not quite managed to completely cut her from my life… so tonight she left a message – hi, it’s your mother, remember me? I don’t know if you care, but R died yesterday… The thing is, not only do i not care, I wish he’d suffered longer… he made my life hell. He destroyed my teen years and early 20s and even though I know my mother made her own choices, a large part of me still blames him for the damage there. But even that’s not all of it… I don’t care that she’s sad either… and a part of that resentful child is glad that she’s suffering… there’s a small part of me that feels guilty and knows I should feel bad… but I can’t even talk to that part of me as so much of that anger and resentment I thought I’d moved on from has resurfaced in that one phone call… I want them to suffer as I did. I want them to acknowledge what they did. I know they never will – and he obviously can’t anyway. So I’m suddenly facing all these old feelings that I thought I’d left behind… On a positive, I’m thinking maybe this is good – that I need to face all of this and deal with it – because I obviously haven’t… but I have no idea what to say to my mother… do I simply not call… probably the right response… at some point, we’ll talk again though for a bday or something… so maybe if enough time passes we simply won’t need to mention it… why am I feeling so bad for being so callous, after everything they have done?!? Because I tell myself that she has only ever been able to give what she has inside her to offer… and I have so much more to give and offer… so for everything she has done, am I right if I deny pretend sympathy? When I am capable of giving it… and just because she’s incapable? Two wrongs… 

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Morning sanity…

Mumma… why does the milk smell funny?

It doesn’t…

Yes it does. Smell it. 

My nose is blocked I can’t smell. It doesn’t go off til Xmas. There’s no lumps. It’s fine. 

It smells weird… I don’t want to drink it…

Sigh… this is the child who won’t drink a glass of water if it’s sat on the table for 20 minutes… and needs a new glass every time he gets a drink… of water… 

But now I’m looking at my coffee askance.. and can’t bring myself to take another sip… 

Everybody needs good neighbours…

Why are your children at my house? They’ve been here for hours. They’re now demanding food…

Have we even met?? I had to ask their names… where they live… their parents names…

Perhaps you’ve sent out a search party and we just don’t realise… but they assure me you know they are here… 

They’re 6 and 4… again, I ask you… have we met? Do you know me? Are you simply that trusting? 

I’m seriously disliking the social side of this place… it’s great that my kids have friends at all hours… At. All. Hours. But maybe… they could all go to your place once in a while? I don’t like feeding my own kids… I have negative interest in feeding yours… and I don’t care about their life story… or their pets… or what they’re doing tomorrow. 

I want my house back. My silence. I want to be the scary neighbour that the kids hate. But they don’t take me seriously… they hang around here even when my kids go somewhere else… 

I have to send them back to you at night time… they stay for breakfast, lunch and dinner… must be awesome for your grocery bill! And you must really appreciate having no kids around all day… and yeah… I have four… so what’s a dozen more… 

But again… my memory is poor… have we met?!? 

Oh, by the way…

Chatting… random stuff… medical problems. 

Me: um… would you like me to make you an appointment? I can find a male doctor for you…

Knight: no, not for that…

Me: are you sure? You don’t need to tell me. You’re 15 now. But I can find someone and make an appointment. 

Knight: no… I don’t want an appointment for that…

My brain reeling through possible ways to convince him… and suddenly… I actually heard what he’d said. 

Me: So what do you want me to make an appointment for?

Knight: because I want to kill myself…

Me: for real? 

Knight: yeah… no? Maybe… I just don’t want to sleep. Ever. Again. 

Me: okay… but you don’t want to kill yourself?

Knight: well I do… but I really just don’t want to sleep…

And the Wizard comes in. Refuses to leave. Wants attention. The Knight refuses to talk again because he no longer is in the mood…

But I’m in the mood! I need to talk about this! 

But mu-u-um…

Me: what’s the go with the screensaver?

Knight: What? It’s Alice in Wonderland licking a rabbit lollypop…

Me: Uh huh…

Knight: What do you think it means?

Me: I know what it means… I want to know what you think.

Knight: It means I want to try LSD.

Me: No.

Knight: Oh, come on!

Me: No.

Knight: Mum! Yes! And MDMA.

Me: No.

When did this become a normal conversation???

Okay… so I was being a complete bitch… but OMFG! I’ve sent him the address a dozen times. He NEVER sends the kids back with all their things. This parcel had the Wizard’s shoes and favourite shirt. It’s been circling for weeks trying to find the right address – because he also didn’t bother to write his own address in the return to sender section – ‘Oh well, he should remember his own things!’  

I’m usually far more passive these days. I try not to bite. I certainly don’t attack. It’s just not worth the fall out the kids then suffer. But my god… it’s so damned hard… and today… well… it’s been a crappy few weeks. 

He’s been quiet this week, but the two weeks before he was in fine form! Constant attacks on the older two. The Princess just looks at her phone these days and mutters – what have I done this time?!? The Knight still struggles… the attacks range from full frontal assault to subtle manipulation… two days ago, he saw his bed for sale on a buy swap sell page… those little things… the attacks on his sense of belonging…

A friend has promised to drink champagne and dance on his grave when the time finally comes! ☺️but in the mean time… it’s sucking it all down deep and doing my best to ignore the attacks and minimise the damage. Taking the higher road… 

When you kick your child out of home…

Okay, maybe he didn’t kick him out if home… but…

It’s been going all week. I knew the peace couldn’t last, but this week has been crazy. I think he finally realised he’s lost control. 

The Knight tells me that his father never thought it would last… I’m confused – why wouldn’t it?? Oh… because history was rewritten. I forget this. I forget the claims that I beat my child up. That I picked him up, threw him against the wall and punched him in the face. I learnt this week that I left holes in the walls because I threw him so hard. And it was more than once… This week though, I’ve had enough, and I make it clear that the lies will stop. Or the truth will be known. 

I’m done with this week. I’m shattered. I don’t know where my kids find their strength. I’m in awe of their resilience. 

So today. I wouldn’t allow them to travel on the train for 3 and a half hours without an adult. A train with people coming and going. No adult supervision. In frustration… because I am the bad person now… I say I will drive them. A six hour round trip today. A six hour round trip to collect them on Monday. All for his family Xmas. 

The week has already been insane. The threats and accusations. The abuse. The endlessness of it and the randomness of the targets and the bullets fired. 

But today. My patience is shot. I’m a mess. I drive for 3 hours. 

And I come out of the shopping centre to this. My Knight’s belongings piled on the side of the street beside my car. 

What’s this? I thought he was keeping his room? I have nowhere to put all this stuff. He doesn’t want it in my house. My Knight tries to reason too. 

But there’s no reasoning. The room is still his room… but with none of his stuff… and he can’t actually sleep in it because it’s a guest room… so he’ll be sleeping in a tent in the backyard with the Baby Dragon and Wizard… 

I bite my tongue. Hold back the tears. My Knight is shattered. I watch his chest cave and his back bend… his shoulders slump as his heart crushes… 

The kids pile in the car and I smile. Wish them well. 

Then sit on the side of the road amongst everything and hold back the tears. 

The day hadn’t even ended. The last information I had, the Knight has ‘run away’ to his best friends house and I’m buying a train ticket for his return. The two younger are refusing to sleep in the tent alone. The eldest just shakes her head sadly and says – they’ll work it out mum… they’ll get there…

And the day goes on… the week continues… and I’m bewildered and shattered and searching for answers in all the psych books and articles at my fingertips… searching for answers as to why he does this and why I couldn’t see it for so long… because that sword cuts both ways…