I was driving to Rakaia today to scatter my Grandads ashes, with my family and his close friends. I had a lot of time to think (and sing, really loudly...and probably badly also).
I suddenly realised all the songs that are 'coming out' at the moment are exactly how I'm feeling-
Taylor Swift "Red":
Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street
Faster than the wind
Passionate as sin, ended so suddenly
Loving him is like trying to change your mind
Once you’re already flying through the free fall
Like the colors in autumn
So bright just before they lose it all
Pink "Try":
Where there is desire
There is gonna be a flame
Where there is a flame
Someone's bound to get burned
But just because it burns
Doesn't mean you're gonna die
You've gotta get up and try
Ne-yo "Let Me Love You":
Much as you blame yourself, you can't be blamed for the way that you feel
Had no example of a love that was even remotely real
How can you understand something that you never had?
And I also realised how the more I talk to my friends (decent friends... not the shitty ones, who aren't really friends) the more I realise I'm not the only one who's been in this mess. And all the answers I'm looking for, all the advice, all the little snippets of wisdom... I already have them inside me- just hearing it from someone else makes it seem like I'm 'right' in some odd way.
I stayed on my friends couch last night; I thought about how different I feel when I'm with my wee girl, or at home surrounded by her things. Before she came, I had terrible anxiety and depression which came and went, and sucked the life out of me. I was floating but had no control of where I was going to land... If you were playing soccer, and you had no goal, what would you do? From a birds eye view it'd look like a bloody nightmare, people darting around here and there with no real 'point' to it... The rules would change... - That's what my life was like for a few good years, I had no idea where I was going so I just fucked around, really.
But anyway where was I- oh, thinking- I sort of wondered about what the feelings were when I have her with me. For instance, is it security of some sort? Is it that my anxiety's not here, is it comfort? What is it?!
I clicked and smiled at the same time, realising it's JUST LOVE. It's a feeling of everything being okay, not perfect but okay- which is good enough for me. It means nothing bad is happening, and she can't hurt me- or doesn't know how to!- she won't leave me (and I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm a damn good mum so no one will take her away)... I think it's the only relationship I've ever had, with anyone, where there's security/love, where I do my best and get the best back... Balance.
If someone treats you right; you treat you right, too.
If you're (or if I am.. well, was) in a relationship that is constantly being torn apart at the seams by a lack of trust, lies, cheating, hurt, anger... If your relationship is, well, shite, then you will be too. Because you're constantly wondering what will fix it, what will break it next, what are they doing, where are they, what are they thinking... It's fucking exhausting to be honest. It's just a vicious circle and it never ends. Once it's broken, the cracks are always there.
For months I've been searching for some sort of answers, but I've never really had the questions either. I've not known where to start. I think I've started now... I hit absolute rock bottom and almost drowned in my own tears; but whilst at the bottom, I held my breath and sprang back up. I'm still on my way up, with the help of a little white pill every morning, a kiss and cuddle from my honeypuff and wonderful friends/family.
So I think the point to this whole post was meant to be that if you don't know what you need, you can't search for it.
I've realised that it's not the answers that I need- it's the questions... And the answers will slowly reveal themselves.
I thought I needed a million bits of advice but really I just need friends- the ones I've already got! I thought I needed to talk, all the time, but silence (with good company) is amazing. I thought if I jumped into a relationship it'd hurt too much and I wouldn't really heal but, nope... Turns out it makes me realise what the important people really think of me- I'm not this vile, horrible, selfish person that other people think I am... Over the past couple years I've had people flip at me. Do you know why?
It's because I'm not afraid to say or do what I feel, any more. I'm not afraid to lose people any more. I have my baby girl and my family and close friends who I'd never hurt. . . I'm pretty happy, to be honest.
I'm slowly learning who I can trust, who not to even BEGIN talking to, who to listen to... And what's really important.
Like one of dads girlfriends once painted;
"Love many, trust few. Always paddle your own canoe."
Today I was prescribed antidepressants for the first time in years. I don't feel weak for asking; but by god I feel weak.
How I feel at the moment, can only be described as how I imagine a weak mug of cold earl-grey tea, feels... Sitting on the windowsill getting colder and weaker and less appealing, and then it reaches the point where it literally cannot get any worse. I think that's me, at the moment.
The only difference is that a mug of bathwater looking earl-grey, won't have legs. Or a brain, or a heart, or motivation. Or a child- hah.
I have to get better so my missy has the best mum possible.
When she was a newborn and I was struggling with baby blues; I told myself if it carried on I'd get help. I ignored it. I numbed the pain out. It went. But this feels the same. Cold, dark, scary... But I feel like I'm in some tropical storm of 'moods'.
I'll be really happy (like the sun is out, blindingly bright) then a cloud will come, and there's a dark shadow over me- that I literally can't control. The sun's still there somewhere, it has to be, and it flickers through the gaps in the clouds. My stomach flips with each cloud that passes by; will it rain, will it get darker? What can make me feel even worse?...
I'm constantly waiting to get hurt. Waiting for abuse. Waiting for these clouds of blackness and darkness to shadow me.
When it's cloudy, the sun has to fight the clouds to get through. The sun has to be feeling pretty damn strong, it has to really believe it can do it, and give it everything; to get through. Most times it does (even after a huge storm) but sometimes the clouds are just too angry, too full, too heavy to let the sun in.
Right now the sun's feeling a bit shit, I think. Because it's not got very much going on. By all that, I mean, I'm happy and there are good things going on, but not quite enough to push through the clouds.
Eventually it'll all pass. It might rain some more. But there will be a rainbow.. and then sun.
The sun always comes up :)
I need to write, but I don't really know what about.
I spent my Saturday night alone. I tried to sleep. I woke every 2 hours with a killer body ache, I don't know where it came from or what it meant but it's still here 24 hours later. People tell me to sleep, to sleep the pain away, but it causes even more pain.
I'm feeling sad. A little less broken, but also a little more. I had a huge talk with my brother this arvo which helped me put things into perspective. It's funny how differently we think, when we were raised almost the same.
I don't know what's going on in my head. It feels like the past 4 years have been a nightmare and I'm waking up as my 17 yr old self + a 2 year old. I'm feeling stunned. I'm somehow in shock. I'm in overdrive... Or cruise control- one of them?! Or both..
Whenever I saw my future, as a child, I saw someone loving me and me loving them, and our child.
I didn't see this. "This" being loneliness to my very core, darkness... I don't know who's going to save me. Maybe, as per, it'll be me.
I hear voices in my head (okay not 'put the oven on and leave the house' type voices); saying "I resent you" "I hate you" "my family hates you" "you ruin all my holidays" "you're in the way of my dreams" voices forcing me to talk to them and then telling me not to contact them... "you're everything everyone's ever called you" selfish...nasty...bitch... I see my handbag thrown at me and missing, I see red eyes staring at mine and hands around my neck. I see me running. I can't do up my seatbelt because I'm shaking so much. My eyes are burning from mascara stinging. I drive 20 metres and pull over and cry the hardest I've ever cried.
I relive numerous abusive occasions, in my head, over and over, every day. I don't know when it'll stop. I just wish I wasn't going through this alone.
For years and years I've dealt with my demons, I've never wanted to involve other people, I've never asked for support or help. I've tried to hold onto my problems and ignore them. I hate people thinking I'm "playing the victim" and I always try help myself before I moan... I've blocked out about 60% of my life, to be honest. I remember fuck all. Apparently, according to my closest family friend, I used to hide under the bed. I would've been almost at high school age, and I hid under the bed. I would curl into a ball and cry, too. I don't remember it though. I remember the feel of carpet against my cheek but that's about it.
There are certain triggers that cripple me inside; that scrunch my paper bones into a ball. Like seeing him, smelling him, feeling him near me. Hearing those voices. Nightmares where I wake up screaming, and I feel like I've lost against myself.
The nightmares are on another level, one I never want to go to. But some of the nightmares I've had in the past (you know the type that haunt you all day and when you get into bed you begin them again...) have actually happened, as of late.
I dreamed he (him..) was cheating with someone infront of me, and I cried and cried, and he just laughed and continued to do it. Blissfully unaware, or uncaring, of how I felt.
Nothing new, I guess.
I'm finding life exhausting. I feel like I could deal with punches. I could deal with a smack. I just can't deal with people crushing my heart on purpose. I can't. I can't be near him anymore. I asked him, begged him, to be here for me and he said he didn't know what to say. I think that's more hurtful than saying nothing at all. Takes me back to previous times when I've really needed him too; pregnancy, my 31 hour labour... And coming home with our newborn baby and being left every night. Oh my god. How can someone do that to another human being. It damn near killed me.
Now's my time to 'be strong' (I don't know how much stronger someone can be...), to look forward and not back. To go get the pills I need (because fuckwits in my life won't take them for themselves and now I'm having to do it, to deal with their bullshit), to go to the counselling sessions, to smile through Christmas and miss my baby for days on end...
I don't know if I'll cope but hey, what choice do I have?
Reality at the moment is the 'negative side' of my brain. Well, I suppose I'm wavering from positive to negative and somehow not completely slipping into insanity.
It's times like these you find out who's really here for you- and it's pretty grim!
The pain inside myself that I'm having to deal with, alone, is surreal. I don't know how I'm staying afloat. This happens a lot to me; I feel I've had all I can take, but somehow I take more.
Yeah, the 'way out' has crossed my mind. But this is when I take pride in not being 'selfish' like I'm labelled so often. Ending your life is selfish.
I care too much about my daughter growing up without a mum, or with some absolute titbasket for a replacement. I care too much about my dad being childless. I care too much about my friends not having me.
So for those of you who think I'm selfish; for the love of God, I wish you could feel what I'm feeling right now. I wish you could be in my shoes... And choosing to feel this, to spare others feeling it...
Don't make me take any more on. Please.
Please.
And cheers to those of you whom I've begged for help, and you've ignored me... You're lucky I'm not selfish.
Those close to me will know what's happened. Those even closer have cried with me.
I'm feeling broken, cold and alone. There is a reason I have trust issues and this just highlighted "why" those exist.
I don't want to go into too much detail but it was a long time coming.
I've got a migraine for the first time in a LONG time and nothing is helping it. It's not a normal migraine though; I'm nauseous and heavy. I feel spaced out. My body isn't really doing what I'm wanting it to. My neck is killing me.. And my head feels like a pin cushion.
The few people in my life that I seek comfort from; have ripped me to shreds. They were inside me, holding my heart. They are the ones who bring me back to 100% (well, close enough) when I'm too broken to get there myself. They... They're all gone. And now this is my chance to what, be strong? Cause I haven't been for 21 years...? Is this my chance to look after myself? Cause I've been living alone since I was a teenager.
I'm not trying to play the victim, I'm not playing games, I'm speaking from my heart. I'm so numb. I can't sleep properly. I hear their voices yelling at me and telling me what I'm not, telling me what they think of me. I don't know when enough will be enough- maybe this is it now, but I can't lose myself because I don't want to put my daughter through what my mother put me through. I won't do it.
I am not the one who needs help, yet here I am, on the phone to counsellors, driving across town to counsellors...
Someone told me not long ago that "we're all capable of change we just have to want to do it". Which was a joke in itself, coming from said person who probably has 1000 personalities- none of them honest or unselfish. I am not the one who needs help but I'm the one who has to learn to deal with everyone elses issues; like I've spent my life doing- I'm back at square bloody 1.
I've spent my life walking on eggshells- more like walking on lego pieces- to keep people happy. I've bitten my tongue so hard it's bled and swollen. I've burnt my mouth, as not to make a scene and spit out burning food. I've broken bones and had to walk on them, or laugh them off, so I didn't seem like I was making a big deal out of them. Like I wrote in my previous post; I've refrained from knocking on my parents door for headache pills, because I didn't want to ruin their sleep.
Then people tell me I'm strong, a few days later, while I've got a cast up to my ass or a strapped foot or an arm in a sling...
But dealing with emotional and verbal abuse is something that breaks invisible bones- invisible bones that the doctors can't bandage or plaster.
The invisible bones that were broken not long ago, have only just begun to heal. I was learning to walk (or swim, from landing in the deep end) again; just letting go of the rail on the wall and my invisible physio's hand.
I was re-teaching myself to breathe the way my old therapist taught me, as a way to calm my internal storm of anxiety. In for 5 seconds through your mouth and out for 10 through your nose. Hearing a calm, soothing voice for an uninterrupted hour was actually more help than breathing properly; knowing I'd have a full hour of someone's attention, knowing I was 'booked in' for a whole hour. It was magical. I live, and have always lived, on edge- waiting until my time was up with dad or mum or you know who.
I'm constantly timed and no one has time for me. Or that's how it feels. It's hard because I only ever expect the bare minimum, sometimes I have to expect nothing and just hope I'm enough for them to not want to walk away after 60 minutes.
So I was learning to walk again, a little shakey, a little nervous about putting one foot in front of the other...
And then I got knocked down again but this time it wasn't just emotional/verbal, it was also physical. I'm so unbelievably broken, I can't even get over the shock. I'm constantly shocked by the people around me.
No one can handle the truth.
Her ex boyfriend who couldn't handle what I'd said about respect; that if she was worried about people disrespecting her she would've walked away from him a long time ago. I guess that warranted the hand around my neck and headbutting at age 14.
Said ex boyfriends daughter who neglected and abused her son; and found out I was trying to do something about it (because no one else was, I was the ONLY person who would speak up about it)- she couldn't handle it either. It would've got physical too if I let her near me but knowing her vile past, and her dad attacking me- I wasn't going to let her near me with a 10 foot pole (or any pole, ouch).
People who can't tell the truth; and I'm expected to keep their dirty secrets and keep hurting the innocent parties? I will tell the truth. If I lose friends, I don't care. I can't lie. It's instilled in me that if I lie, the repercussions are worse than a headbutt or a lost friendship.
My own ex boyfriend who can't handle responsibility, and couldn't handle me telling him so. All the people in his life are afraid of unwrapping the cotton wool and telling him to sort his fucking head out, so won't ever speak up. I wasn't afraid of hurting him because the pain he had/was causing me and our baby was unfathomable. He will never know. I tried my absolute best. I wore myself out trying to get him to see the mistakes he was making. But it's not my problem any more. He needs help and I hope to God he gets it before he does this to someone else.
And the person who hurt me but I'm not writing about that, it's too soon.
People can't handle that I tell the truth. I'm straight up, 'games' scare the living daylights out of me.
I've spent forever reading peoples facial expressions because they are too busy to talk. I've learnt to shut my mouth while people are texting, as it's just a waste of breath trying to talk to them while they're paying someone else attention on a small screen (got to be honest, it's the rudest thing I've ever encountered). I know when I'm in the way, I know when people don't want to be at my house, I know when people would 'rather be fishing' or 'rather be a fucking dick at home playing xbox on their own'. I know people inside and out, I can read every sign. Lying to me is a waste of their time because I'm one step ahead.
From the very beginning I've had trust issues. I rarely let people into my heart because this is what happens.
They attack it. For reasons unknown. I was beginning to think I was actually everything everyone has called me; selfish, spoilt, horrible, nasty, insane... But then I realised that they don't know me. It's me who knows them. I've taken the time to know them, but not the other way.
I briefly met someone else, he knew about my problems and wanted to take my mind off them.. So that was all good. I told him I don't do games and just want honesty about what he wants. Even if people don't intentionally lie to me; I'm not going to wait hours for a phone call or a knock on the door. I don't want to waste my time on someone who can't spend 2 minutes letting me know plans have changed. I have other plans. His priorities are in a different order to mine but still, I'm hurt, and again learning to walk because of him too! Surprised I'm not in a god damn wheelchair.
I'm torn to shreds and the only thing keeping me together is my beautiful girl. We are closer than we've ever been and we've got a fresh start happening pretty soon; well, it started a while ago but it's really happening soon... It's so surreal.
I'm feeling very alone and I'm missing people from my past, every single minute of every single day. It will pass, the pain will lessen and I'll move on properly without realising, I guess.
I have to pinch myself to remind me that this is reality and that it's just a bad day, not a bad life.
I always like to stay on the positive side of my brain; the side that sees a fence covered in grapes in the sunset, the side that is happy to wake up, this side enjoys food, this side cries happy tears, likes fresh fruit and vegetables and is all about walking in the sunshine. This side is grateful and appreciative of all things. Sweet smells, things taste better, songs are happy... Memories blocked, and is all about the future.
That side is dominant, it wins over the negative side, about 80% of the time.
The negative side (I don't even feel like writing about because I'm sort of trying to forget it and *stay* in the positive side...but here goes) is charcoal grey. It's howling cries and screams from my nightmares that wake me up. It's me, cold in the night, and unable to warm up. It's memories of earthquakes at 4am, heavily pregnant with the world falling down around me. It's dark and cold and frightening. It's being at home with a newborn baby, alone, with a dicky wrist and excruciating pains every time I breastfeed, and having people tell me that I HAVE to breastfeed- but they're not doing it. It's the past, not the future. It's looking behind you as you're sure someone's watching, and it's slow haunting music. It's a cold hand pulling me around the neck, from the grapes on the fence of my childhood house.
This side now has me sitting here with my head in my hands.
I've suffered from depression since I was 8- isn't that absolutely ridiculous? I recall someone in my family saying "How can an 8 year old be 'stressed' and depressed?!". The negative side of my brain takes me back to the years I spent in silence, inside myself, hiding away from people and their positivity- or negativity- trying to find where I belonged. I lived in jealousy, in envy, of the girls in my class that were too busy to come play because they had 'family' things to do.
My childhood probably wasn't as awful as I remember; I'm sure there were good bits. Like when I got to spend time with my dad (he worked and works a lot). I have memories of him coming home to eat dinner with me (cooked by my nanny at the time), to play on the trampoline or take me to the park on my bike... The memories of my cat, now 18, as a kitten. I remember coming home from school and calling her from the back deck... "SOPHIIIIIIIIE!!!" and she'd come bounding in from god knows where- I think she had a wee spot on top of the shed. I remember when my mum was healthy-ish (she has M.S) and she'd take me to my Nana's, I learnt to skip on her lawn and Nana and I always looked at the "Ballerina" flowers - like the picture I use on my profile on here. I have them tattooed on my neck also.
I remember travelling with dad- or so I like to think I remember. He took me to Fiji when I was 3 and all I remember is a paddling pool, not even the ocean or the sand or the hotel, the bloody pool.
He took me to America not long after that and all I remember is a king size bed, McDonald's on the plane, and getting stuck to a carseat.
If there were no photos from Fiji or America; I wouldn't have even remembered going there. The memories I have feel as vivid as some of the dreams I've had. '
In 2005 he took me to Europe- this I remember. I hadn't yet been diagnosed with Endometriosis or PCOS and my periods felt like bricks covered in spikes, inside me. I remember a lot of London and a wee bit about other places we went but I can never put the memories in order. I remember a long, cramped staircase in Florence and a bathroom the whole hotel had to use. I remember sleeping in the bath in Paris and turning 14 on the Eiffel Tower. I remember dad fleeing off on one of his 'afternoon walks' and coming back with icing sugar all over the back of his pants, and then a few days later trying to deter me from buying McDonald's as it was 'crap here'.
I remember Strasbourg because it felt most like home, and I was so homesick (why, I don't know, because even home didn't feel like home) at the time, it was a welcome relief to be there. There was a tram, which I think is why it felt like home. There was an eery calmness- there was no one around, where we stayed. I nicked some jam from the breakfast platters and had a wheel of cheese explode in my bag, in the sun. We had an egg maker at the table. The keyboard I used to send emails, wasn't the same as ours in NZ. I don't remember the room we stayed in.
I've been to Australia a few times here and there. I think all of the travel was mostly a reason for dad to have time with me alone. I have always appreciated the privileges I've had, but to be honest, if they caused more problems then they were worth- then I wouldn't have wanted them. All I ever wanted growing up was Sunday afternoons with my parents, or one of them, feeling like I wasn't in the way.
When people say "You're so lucky to have been to America!" I never know how to respond. Yes, I really enjoyed that plastic carseat ripping my skin as I tried to move. Oh and that Donald Duck iceblock was the highlight- I think.
I want to travel more, I'm nowhere near done. Ireland for the greenery, Italy for the food, and Bali for the peace (obviously not the shitty bits). There are places I feel I may find more puzzle pieces; like in a video game when you unlock other levels... I think these places might take me to other levels. But to be honest, the top of my priority list is being here for my daughter in the middle of the night when she needs me, to pay even more attention to her on Sunday afternoons, and to speak for her when no one will listen. I need to be, for her, what my parents weren't, for me. I need to try and prevent her having depression and anxiety problems at 8.
I don't blame my dad for working so much, when I was growing up, but I do wonder what it'd be like if he hadn't. I wonder, if instead of Fiji in 94, I would've just had fun here at home- I wonder if I'd have even known the difference. Before anyone snaps, he considers himself a workaholic ;) Not just me!
I remember (negative side of brain taking over here, bear with me) cold dark nights, cotton sheets and shadows on the wall, eyes watching me from somewhere, a dead quiet house. I remember being too scared to even call for dad, not knowing if he'd come or if he had left in the night for a different country. I was terrified of not having him there; I'd rather have cried myself to sleep, quietly, than call out and not have him come. I struggled with my own thoughts and fears for years of my life.
I had a lot of health issues growing up; most were headaches, I lived in fear of getting these as no one ever believed me. I got them on hot windy days. I used to go to the sick bay, at my primary school, and my head was throbbing so hard I couldn't even cry. Or sometimes I could cry but couldn't stop because the pain was somehow masked a little by the pressure of howling tears.
I never enjoyed the sick bay. I never enjoyed the looks from a certain HORRID teacher who made many passing snarky remarks about me getting better 'just in time for lunch'. I never enjoyed seeing kids out the window as I sat there wishing my headache to, well, fuck off thanks.
What I remember the most about headaches was when I'd get them in the middle of the night. If I was at my mums it was actually her who would wake me up with a cold flannel, panadol in jam and a glass of water. She knew, because I would whimper in my sleep- we shared a room until I was 11. Whereas at my dads (we moved in with his, now wife, girlfriend and 2 of 4 kids in 1999), I'd lay in bed until I couldn't take the pain anymore, I'd creep out of bed, down the stairs- knowing exactly which ones to skip because they squeaked- right to their bedroom door. I'd stand there for so long, so quietly, I could hear my bones creaking in my legs. I once saw the sunrise through the front door. I never wanted to wake them I felt so guilty and, as per, like I was causing a fuss ("How can an 8 year old have a migraine, Dr?!"). Sometimes I'd find the courage to knock, I would physically have to get my left hand and push on my right fist to hit the wood, otherwise it'd never make contact.
This is when my anxiety disorder was born.
For years I resented the fact he was rarely around. It was only when I had my daughter that I could finally let it go. If I never had my daughter, I'd never have understood (I don't really understand but I don't hate him for it anymore), and I was 20 when I finally got it- so many teenage years I spent evil-eyeing him from the next room, hating his existence. I remember my mum actually called my doctor once as she thought I'd try kill him. A lot went on in our house, never physical violence but a lot of emotional problems- I can't seem to avoid them!
I always hated his work for taking him away from me, but in reality he took himself to work. He lived to work, not worked to live. And that's not a criticism, that's how he built his life- to suit himself. He never wanted me, or himself, to go without.
But by being so careful about what they might be 'going without', it's easy to make the mistake of your children literally going without you.
Today I'm struggling, in more ways than one. I can't stop crying. There are some things I share far too much of, and then other parts I don't want to talk about at all.
Today I can't explain why I'm low, but it's not good. I will be fine, eventually, as always.
How many of us have had dreams growing up, dreams about certain careers, x amount of kids and a white picket fence, dreams about where we might live or land one day... How many have come true?
I had a dream a few years ago, when I was at a very low point in my life, and it got me through. I literally dreamed of this dream night after night. I saw a wooden place, with blue red and white colours throughout; ice cream of every flavour (even a 'Midnight' flavour, which isn't actually invented yet), rollerskating waitresses... Yeah.
A year later I was told, because of my PCOS and Endo, that my chances of having kids weren't too great. I remember a Gynaecologist telling me "As soon as you've found him, try." I was in my teens and this was a huge shock to me; not because I felt pressured by him to 'set up shop', but because I was terrified of not fulfilling my other dream; to become a mum and have a wonderful family of my own- maybe no white picket fence but a husband to love, who loves us...
I found him, and I knew it was awful timing for a baby so I didn't try. I was taking precautionary measures (aka "the pill") and just over a year later, there I was, lying on a bed with goo on my tummy and the ultrasound technician asking if I knew I was pregnant. I didn't know, and I was there for a pre-op scan which was meant to happen 5 days later, and obviously didn't happen as we found the cause of the pain.
Long story short, my dream of Midnight ice-cream and rollerskates, had to take a back seat. In fact I never really thought of it again until not long ago. I got excited at the thought of having my own business; something to call my baby, something to pour my heart into.
Then I realised I DID have a baby, she was growing up way too fast, and it was up to me to support her from here on in- I've had to learn the hard way not to rely on those who said they'd be there for me, those who promised not to hurt me, those who said they'd support me in more ways than one. I realised I might not get my dream job, might not have my own business, might not have the ideal family... But at least we would be happy and that's a lot more than other people can say they have.
My daughter is now 2 and it's taken me 2 years (+ 10 months of pregnancy) to *want* to work.
I struggled with school because I never really knew what I wanted to do apart from be a mum. And let me tell you now, I knew being a mum wouldn't be an easy way out of working. It's terrifying being a mother. At least with work you can sometimes call in sick. at least you get that x amount of hours sleep before your alarm goes off. Work doesn't vomit and pee the bed in one night, while you're trying to sleep after a hard day.
I am moving house soon and it seems to be the only thought keeping me afloat. That, plus 'work'. I will be able to sit behind a desk and focus on something else apart from the overwhelming sadness I feel for being rejected by a certain person.
The difference with working and being a fulltime parent, or any type of parent that does more than 20%, is that work (should, and generally) has set hours. You can do what you want with the hours outside of it. You can relax, you can spend it wherever you want, if you're a parent then you spend it with your beautiful kiddies- and it makes you happy...
I guess I'm just babbling as per usual but my point is that sometimes we have to let go of our dreams, let go of the Midnight ice cream and rollerskates, the idea of owning a business... Sometimes we have to put our happiness first. Sometimes, things just don't work, no matter how hard you try or how hard you want it. You have to know when to admit defeat.
If you can't find the balance between work and family; find a new career path, don't leave your family, because at the end of the day- they're the irreplaceable ones.
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