[25]

Note: I write these daily Novembers to the background noise of my kids screaming. These days like to run around chasing each other and scream. It’s some kind of game. Their cries pierce right through my ears. They interrupt my thoughts and halt my words and make my brain feel like mush . I stop them sometimes, and other times I let them do it, because it seems like they enjoy it and they need to get it out of their system.

I am actually behind.

I am behind and I could panic about it but I won’t.

I won’t let the overwhelm overwhelm me.

Let this be my 25th post.

It has no substance.

My brain is mush.

But brains are mush. And it is within that mush that ideas grow.

What We Attract

Interestingly, the world still appears to be falling apart in 2020. Nothing has changed. Everybody is still carrying on. Keeping on keeping on.

Do you think these days will be read about in history books? Will my grandkids ask me what I was doing when Brexit happened?

Yes dear, I was eating my crumpets and having my tea and planning to add toilet roll to next week’s shopping list. I expect when Germany went down in WWII people were cooking dinner and serving up rationed potatoes, just like any other day.

People just keep on keeping on, because, honestly, what else is there to do?

Other than be informed and try to help as much as one can by spreading awareness and donations and showing love. It’s easy to show love when love abounds, and hard to show love when all you see is moody hatred.

I live in Crewe, as I have said a million times, and more often than not, in this awful town, I experience negativity. There is a lot of poverty and uncouthness here, so when I am greeted nicely or experience something good from someone, I am genuinely surprised.

I think you also attract what you put out. I generally go about my day very negatively. Stressed and frustrated and expecting people to swear at me. The other day at the post office, I had a mountain of parcels to post and my boy began to cry in his pram as I was halfway through dealing with the cashier. The queue behind me grew longer and heavier and more impatient, the air became muggy and hot and I was sweltering under my coat and imagined my son must also be doing the same which is why he was fussing. He began to bawl loudly and the cashier next to mine said to the customer behind me, ‘If we could get that young man to SHUT UP, I could help you better’.

Folks, I was mortified and ashamed and stressed and upset. I was doing my best to finish my business quickly and hush my son simultaneously, and a bit of empathy would have meant the world. In that moment the heat of shame and anger crept around my face and as soon as I snatched my receipt I stormed out, muttering about how I despise Crewe and every single filthy, uncouth, ill-mannered, insensitive, horrible chav in this depressing grey shitty town.

There.

I felt ashamed afterwards for saying those things because it made me no better than they were.

Do we really attract what we put out?

Mother

The background music to my shower is that of a crying baby, and yet when I turn the faucet off, and stand dripping in the sudden ensuing silence, I hear no baby crying.

I tiptoe out and drip on the carpet, peering into the bedroom.. baby sound asleep on my bed, ne’er a stir.

Back to the shower it is. Rubbing shampoo through my sparse postpartum hair, trying my utmost to ignore the anguished imaginary cries of my baby.

I towel myself dry and watch that peaceful little face, large soft peachy cheeks, eyelashes gentle on the roundness below, small deep breaths under the covers, a contented little sigh.

My eyeballs are burning. I am beyond needing a nap. My body screams for a good weightlifting session at the gym. I flutter about the house on my toes, doing only chores that are silent. Brooming, mopping, dusting. No hoover. No dishes. Never boil a kettle. And set the washing machine to start when nap time is over.

If I am too tired to do that, I sit on the sofa and eat ice cream. Noodles. Doritos. And I watch reruns of Gilmore Girls. Not focusing on the story, really, just mindlessly staring into an abyss.

Daily things are done as and when I can manage them. I want to kiss my boy inside and out, but don’t know how to. I live for the little gurgling laughs and the huge shy smile and that soft little double chin. I knew I would love him but never realised how much it would hurt and what sort of worry it would cause.

I miss my mother. My mother in law doesn’t like it when I visit her. She gives me the silent treatment and yet acts normal when my husband is around. She complains to my husband that I am disrespectful and always act like I am itching to leave. She doesn’t let me leave. And when I try to she asks ‘why’. Even though I spent the entire weekend at her house, and only a few snatched hours with my mother. I am not allowed to stay the night with my mother else she gets very upset and her husband shouts at my husband and calls him names and stresses him out until he fights me to the death so I give in and stay in their horrid, horrid depressing house. My father in law wouldn’t have cared if his wife hadn’t pushed him to. He told my husband that she comes first before anything and he must never upset her.

I am shocked. I didn’t think she had it in her.

What about me and my sanity and my mental wellbeing?

I miss my mother so sorely and yet when I am with her I am stressed because I know I will be ‘in trouble’ when I go back to my husband.

This time is meant to be special, and I am making it so, I really am. I am treasuring my child so very much. I just wish family was easy also. I feel trapped, because I don’t actually have a choice. I feel anxious all the time and on the verge of tears.

My husband makes it very hard for me to see my family as he prioritises his mother, and causes trouble when she causes trouble. So I have to pick my battles, and that means much less time with my parents.

I miss them so much.

Having a baby makes you need and value your mother in a way you never did before.

When I am a mother in law, I honestly will ensure that I am not so selfish and insensitive to my daughter in law. People need their mothers, while they have them.

I NEED my mother.

11.06.2019

Well I flopped hard at writing a post every day in May. We went to stay with family for a week and a half and I just got so depressed there to be honest. There is a particular member of my in laws who is excessively controlling and I just felt so anxious and upset in her presence the entire time. I had a stomach ache every day and every single thing I did was wrong.

When I visited my own mother I was told off when I got back to my in laws’. I am appalled and disgusted and am feeling hatred and disappointment and entrapment and at this point I don’t care who knows.

Which is a shame really because family is supposed to be fun and supportive.

Makes me hate visiting that side of the family to be honest.

So I gave up writing every day in May and there. That is all to say to be honest. I think said person is affecting my mental health now. Some mothers are just obsessive about their sons and some sons listen to their mothers and put their wives through hell and expect their wives to be ok with it because one must never upset a mother.

Well I am a mother now too and this is MY son and not hers and I am sick of being a doormat.

There.

I hope you had a good weekend.

Pranks

I am challenging myself to write a post every single day in May, to kickstart my writing again. I will be following some prompt words that I ‘stole’ from somebody on instagram. Here is my eighth post.

Sometimes you think someone is playing a prank on you. Someone very close to you.

But then reality creeps in. Rears its ugly, ugly head. And five years of relative bliss flood down a slimy drainpipe.

Because no. It is not a prank.

It is very real.

People surprise you everyday. Don’t trust anybody but yourself.

Exit

I am extremely nervous. I start my first day at a new job tomorrow – as a supply teacher! I don’t know which school I will be teaching at, I don’t know where it is or how far it is. All I know is that I have to be ready by 7:30PM sharp, and will have to leave at the drop of a hat.

I don’t know what kind of kids I will be teaching, and that worries me the most. I am really good with the younger ones; its the older ones I am dubious about. You can get some right messes at school; and its dealing with them delicately whilst grasping at shreds of wisdom that is tricky.

I am afraid of KIDS. But I will not show them, of course. I will march in there like a Trunchbull and show them who’s boss. I can be quite mean when I want to be. But I have never been in that situation before, so I really don’t know what to expect. You never know with kids.

I am exiting my comfort zone, that’s what, and the thought of it churns in my stomach like acid and worms.

On Ending a Chapter the Right Way

I have realised now, that you can’t leave something unclosed.

You can’t suffer for a long time, and up and leave suddenly with no explanation, and expect your life to go back to normal and the old you to return.

The old me is taking so long to come back and while I have healed marvellously, my dreams have not. I am constantly haunted by him.

And when I wake up gripping my sheets in fear and I turn and see my husband’s peaceful sleeping face next to mine, my relief is palpable. I thank God everyday for this wonderful, handsome man who makes me so so happy.

The dreams are becoming more and more vivid of late.

Perhaps I should have resolved it, and said all the things I needed to say. Because in my dreams, he is always springing up on me when I least expect it, and he is sobbing and accusing. I never told him how abusive he was to me. Maybe he thinks he didn’t abuse me at all. No. That’s ridiculous. He said once that maybe if he treated me better I’d have stayed.

Nu uh. No way. He was a horrible person and I hated him for three quarters of the time we were together. I hated him and feared him so I went along with it. He also threatened me frequently. And I was naive and young.

But oh how I hated him. So when I did get the courage to up and leave, by phone, I really was furious. He said he would drive to my house and kidnap me and I screamed at him. I had never done that to him, ever. I was always so meek and mild.

I screamed at him and hissed, ‘How dare you even suggest such a demented thing? Who the hell do you think you are? You do NOT own me. If you come here I swear I will call the police, I don’t care what time it is. My family is sleeping and if you disturb them because of your own selfish and manipulative ways I swear I will make your life horrible. Leave me alone. LEAVE ME ALONE.’

I was so mad, I didn’t care how loud I was. And he was silent on the phone. So so silent. I had never rendered him silent before, so that’s how I know my words packed a punch.

What a disgusting pathetic douchebag. And he cried so much. I had to listen to it for ten minutes before I guiltily said, ‘that’s enough. I’m going. Bye’.

Why did I feel guilty to hurt him? Hadn’t he disgustingly hurt me enough times? Ugh. He is a despicable human. And I don’t know why I am still scared of him.

I wish I told him what a disease he was. How manipulative he was. He thinks I left him because of my family but HELL NAW. I left him because I hated his guts. His horrible personality. That cringey way he used to cackle, so his brown teeth showed. But I was too kind and gentle to tell him so. I felt bad. So I didn’t think of my own happiness I continued to miserably pander to him. WHY DO I STILL FEEL LIKE I DID A BAD THING?

I DIDN’T DO A BAD THING. I SAVED MYSELF A NASTY LIFE.

Sometimes I hope he is dead. I hope he dies so I don’t have to be scared of him anymore.

Waves of emotion by Michal Madison

Gossip

Don’t talk about people.

I don’t like it. I really don’t like it. I don’t like knowing anything about anybody unless they have told me themselves, or they would be okay with me knowing it. Anything else is just nasty and I really could not care less.

Why do people feel the need to gossip? Also, why do they defend themselves by saying it is not gossip, just facts, when in actual fact it is gossip. Gossip is anything you say about somebody else without their knowledge that might hurt said person.

And that stuff is hurtful.

I would be hurt and angry and annoyed if somebody was discussing my private life with somebody else.

It’s none of their business.

I hate gossip.

It makes me very very depressed.

It’s also hard when a member of your family is partaking in it and they get very emotional/upset when you point it out and defend themselves by lecturing me about ‘self-righteousness’ and listing all the reasons why it is ok to talk about what they talked about. I don’t want to hurt or offend anybody in my family.

I just really REALLY don’t care about that information. I don’t want to talk about it or why its okay to talk about it. It is not okay. It is not our life. It is somebody else’s life. I don’t give a flying rat’s bottom what other people do with their lives. I can’t stress this enough. I don’t care so much that I will cry if I hear any more information I don’t need to. It is clutter for my brain.

Can’t we talk about something else, instead of other people’s lives? Why must we speculate on why they do things? Especially when we know nothing of their lives.

It is not important, really. It makes my insides feel rotten.

*sigh*

Image Credit

A lil Something

I wish

That one day

I can have peace

Of mind

and heart

Also,

A private room

to live in

and to do my washing

Without having to wake up at 5am to do it

And to kiss my husband

As passionately as I like

without worrying about a knock on the door

Cuz PDA is gross

Also

To sleep during the day

Without worrying

about in-laws

thinking I am lazy.

I am not.

I swear.

I am constantly working.

On the move.

That is why

I

am so

tired.

All the time.

 

4 hours sleep,

kind of tired.

Image Credit

 

Cupcakes and Frowns

I haven’t got a story anymore and I am exhausted.

Well, no, I do have a story. But it is shredded to pieces and I am too tired and emotionally drained to pick anything up. Also my heart feels like a heavy sack that is sinking low into my abdomen and it is making me feel sick.

So I am eating cupcakes to mask the pain only the cupcakes make the pain worse. There are vanilla ones with a vanilla buttercream frosting, topped with strawberries and blueberries. There are chocolate ones which came out beautifully glossy, with a sheen of chocolate icing. And a sprinkling of chocolate curls.

Well, cupcakes are delicious and delicious things are good for you – within a respectable limit, of course.

Listen up, folks. Adulting is about dealing with your problems and communicating with those who are important to you, also not being afraid of confrontation. I am terrified of confrontation.

But, Mr Damian, I have plenty to talk to you about and I will talk to you about it. I will. I must. I can’t not.

Image Credit