Morning feels…

Four is too many…

The Princess is away. I hear from her at odd moments through the day and night. 

The baby Dragon is across the drive at a sleepover. They knocked on the door at 7. Who comes home from a sleepover at 7?!?

The Wizard is being his usual morning nerdy self. He’s 8. He’s cuddly. He reacts strongly to moods and stress. He started the morning with a meltdown over his big brother annoying him. He has close to zero understanding of other people’s moods… he just reacts to them. I tell him – look at my face, listen to my voice. I am frustrated. I am tired. I am angry… he laughs and continues. I hold back the tears. 

So… that’s 3. Goes without saying that I love all 4 of them. But my days are filled and I can barely breathe at times. 

Then there’s my Knight. He doesn’t sleep at night. He wakes me to tell me he can’t sleep… or because he’s on his Xbox and he’s loud… or because he’s talking to a friend at 3am and the conversation is hilarious… or because I take the Xbox controller and he can’t sleep… or because the Internet is slow and he demands to know why… all night… every night… 

His favourite saying is kms… kill myself.. I told him this morning that if he doesn’t let me sleep soon, I’m going to kill my own self. 

I feel like a new mother all over again. There’s no break. At all. I want to cry in frustration all the time. I’m exhausted. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. I can’t keep up with their wants and needs and demands. The level of utter self absorption does my head in. 

The Wizard has climbed into my lap. He has no sense of personal space and boundaries. He needs and he needs now. I’m still on my first coffee and he’s asked at least 675435 questions so far. There’s no conversation. He doesn’t tell me things. He asks. Demands. Sits on me and realigns himself for his own comfort. I can’t deny him the hugs he needs. But OMFG I want the space some moments. 

The Knight has disappeared to his room. He’s tired. Am I supposed to care? I’m sure I woke neighbours at 4am when I got up for the 27th time to tell him to shut the f up… 

I remember when I thought I’d be a good parent. I hear others horrified that someone says a ‘bad’ word in front of their kids… oh honey, I say them AT mine…

Friends see the surface. You’re a single mum of four kids. You’re a great mum. 

No… come see me at 4am or 6 am or 8am… my deadly times… see me at arsenic hour or after I’ve tucked them in for the 571st time tonight and it’s nearly midnight. See me when they just won’t freaking sleep or let me sleep. When they bicker with each other or cause havoc in their own frustration. When I count yet another bruise on my thighs (9 atm) or shins (6) because they’ve left yet more crap in a walkway and I’ve tripped yet again. 

Or better yet… come take over for an hour or two… take my phone and take my kids… leave my house and leave me in peace… just an hour or two of utter silence. 

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The straw…

I was reading this blog post today:

She Divorced Me Because I Left Dishes by the Sink

and it made me think… I remember feeling like this… saying these words…

“But it’s important to me…”

Which has taken me down memory lane, reflecting…

Our biggest fight was about drinking. I didn’t like him drinking every single night. Yes, it was only one or two most nights, but I hated it.

I explained it over and over… both of my parents are alcoholics… I’ve always sworn I will not raise my children in a house where either parent drinks every night. I don’t care what anyone else does – that’s their choice. I’m not judging them either. I just cannot raise my kids in that environment. It’s too many memories. The smell of the stale beer cans for a start… The words ‘Hey *child*, can you get me a beer from the fridge’… I can’t do it.

Over and over… and over…

Me: If you don’t have a drinking problem, then you shouldn’t need to drink every night….

Him: I don’t have a problem and I don’t need to drink, but I’ve worked hard every day and I deserve a drink…

And there it was… every single time… ‘I DESERVE a drink’…

Me: But it matters to me. I’ve explained it to you. Over and over… and over… I’m not asking you to never drink again (although, if I did, you should be willing to consider that)… I’m asking you to not drink every night. I’m asking you to go to the pub and have that drink with friends there even. If you need to have that drink, drink it where the kids can’t see…

Him: This is my house. I work hard… I DESERVE a drink…

The final argument was about this – the one that began the ultimate end… He was drinking when I wasn’t around or when I was locked in the Office working… telling the kids not to let me know… on the way home he’d grab a ‘roadie’… but, in one of those bizarre moments, I looked in the cupboard and realised the large vodka bottle that was full two weeks earlier, was empty…. and suddenly, the conversation spiralled…

Me: (finally) When was the last 24 hour period in which you haven’t had an alcoholic drink?!?

Him: I don’t know… a couple of months? Does it matter? I DESERVE a drink… I work hard…

Me: You’re getting the kids to lie to me for you?

And that was it.. The moment I just looked and thought – what am I doing?

It wasn’t about the alcohol – well, it kind of was… but it was about the fact that he wouldn’t ever put me first. Not once. It was always his needs, wants and desires before anyone else.

I didn’t want to be his mother. I didn’t want to always tell him what to do. I didn’t want to always be the ‘bad’ person making the hard decisions. And… I wanted someone who respected my hopes and dreams and wishes… my hurts as well as my joys… Someone who would have given up alcohol altogether if I asked, because it was important to ME. As simple as that.

 
I know I should link this to the original site, but I’ve lost it…

Anyway…

You pick a picture, one of six, and it tells you your true personality. 

True story. 

It’s on the Internet… It must be…

So this is me. And oddly, this is the conversation I’ve been having of late. Because this is me. This is the me I was meant to be. And I know this. But along the way, I took the wrong path, and I tried to be someone I’m not…

But I don’t know how to be me anymore…

I don’t know how to be strong enough to be the opposite of everything my kids think I am…

And I don’t know if the me I’ve been us the right choice, or the me I want to be is the answer…

I can’t even begin to explain that urge for freedom to people… Most just want the white picket fence and 2.2 kids… They want the dream they bought into all those years ago…

And the crazy thing is, I still actually want the fairytale. I want it all. I want the mad, passionate extraordinary love… Or loves… To go with the mad, passionate, extraordinary life… 

And I want to run, or fly, til I have no breath left inside…

 

Today has been hard… and perhaps it is simply that I am sick and I am tired so it’s all just getting to me a little more… but right now, this is one of the lowest moments I’ve had in the last two weeks…

And I can’t pinpoint why. I don’t think he’s cut since Saturday. The mental health team finally rang today to confirm meetings for two weeks time. So in theory…

But it’s exhausting. He blocked me on FB. It seems to be the week for it – another friend did the same the other day because apparently I offended him (it was a misunderstanding… but he hasn’t unblocked me yet….). My son has blocked me on purpose. Because he hates me. Because it bothers me. Because he can.

He has spent the evening wired… too much exercise? He mowed the lawn for money – took almost two hours. Went for a walk to the shop to spend it on sugar though… But still, that’s the longest he’s been out of the house since he got here…

Then he came home and started on his siblings. Niggling… then full on abuse… I hate them… they should F*&^ off… I wish they’d die… often just said at them… and still they follow him… because he has always been this angry, and even though they don’t like when he is angry, they still love him and want to spend time with him…

And it wears me out…

So I tell him to stop or I will take the Internet away… his gadgets… and he tells me then he’ll stab me while I sleep… and even though I don’t think he will… there’s that part of me that wonders – is today the day that he does finally snap? Because those gadgets are his outlet and his sanity… but there is nothing else to take away… no other punishment… and there is no reasoning because he hates me so he won’t listen….

and I am sick – although apparently no-one cares and they all just wish I’d hurry up and die so they can all be happy finally…

And yes, I know he is hurting and angry and that he is lashing out wanting to hurt the world as much as he is… but I am hurting too… and some days, quite selfishly, it feel that I am not allowed to do that… that the focus is 100% on this completely messed up teenager… and I do get that… but can’t I just be sad too? Can’t I be over it? Can’t someone just send me that hug and that shoulder to cry on? Because it’s such a long, long journey ahead….

But this is just self pity… because I am blessed to have amazing people in my life who do check in with me every now and then and make sure I’m okay… but still… sometimes that just seems so long ago and so far away…

It’s really hard to be hated by someone you love… You’d think I’d be used to it by now…

Two days reprieve. Two days when he was with his father and his hate was directed that way. 

But now he’s back and I am once again the enemy… Or target…

And this house is so small… I have to hide in my bedroom to have any space… And he has none of his own… When he’s here, he shares with his younger siblings… So he dominates the living space – which is open plan. Sits on the lounge, music and computer games blaring, waiting for any excuse to hate…

So I hide in my room…

Avoiding the hate….

Because how do you sit in a room with someone you love… Who mocks you… Encourages the little ones to be rude and to argue and to ridicule you…. Who emanates so much hate…. 

His older sister hides in her room the whole time he is here… She is his other target…

And this is our life… I don’t know how long he is here for… It’s meant to be at least another three weeks this time… But there is no way the school can allow him to continue boarding… So is this it? 

This can’t be what is best for him. This can’t be the solution. And I wonder how other parents do it. When there is no other option. How do you live in a tiny house with someone who actively hates you and wants your life to be as miserable as possible? 

Because he hates his dad… But desperately wants his dad to love him… The dad who has ridiculed and despised him since he was tiny… The dad who now tells him how proud he is of him, as long as he toes the line of course…. So he jumps through hoops to please the father he’s never been able to please… The father who has never actually let him down because his expectations were always ground level…

He hates me too… But more so… Because I’m the one who always loved him… The one he knew would always be there, would always protect him and would never let him down… The one who failed in the end. Isn’t that the crazy part? The father who has always treated him badly, versus the mother who loved him unconditionally but fucked up the protecting side of it…. So who do you hate more? The choice is obvious….

So I live in a house with someone who actively hates me and wants me to hurt as much as he does…. 

And there is no way out… And no one to listen… No shoulder to cry on… No supporting arm to give you strength… 

And selfishly, I just keep thinking that the universe is just so damned unfair. Or something… Because I can’t understand why I deserve this? Why he deserves this? Why the other kids deserve this? And I can’t see a way out of it… And I can’t escape how selfish that is….

I want…

More selfishness….

I want someone to ask how I am. To just ask the simple stuff. To want to know how my day unfolded. To want to know how my life is travelling and if I have any idea what road I am on. 

I want someone to ask how I slept last night. Am I still fed up with cooking dinner that no one eats each and every night? And how did the run go on Sunday? We’re your legs sore on Monday? Did you achieve your goal? What was your goal? How do you spend your days? Have you found a new career? Or are you still content without one? What are you reading this week? How was brunch on Monday? What are you doing tomorrow? 

I want someone to ask those questions… But more importantly, I want someone to want to know the answers…

Argh! I’m in such a selfish mood of late. I want to hide on a Greek Isle. One with no internet and no phone lines. I don’t want to spend my days attached to devices to stay in touch. I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t want the guilt of all the people I haven’t called or visited of late. I don’t want to constantly have to upend my day and rearrange my life to accommodate the masses – the masses who don’t reciprocate, but will argue that they do. I want to laze in the sun. Feel the heat of the stone under my arms and legs. The sun seeping into my bones. I want to sleep til midday. I want people to find me if they wish. To seek me out on that sun bleached rock. Wine in one hand. Cheese in the other. And I find myself simply counting down the years….