Last blog of 2015

This year has been an accumulation of epic fails on my part. 

But instead of punishing myself I took a long hot bath and considered the strength I’ve gained. 

If someone had told me that I would be seeking a lawyer and accepting the death of my marriage id have shrivelled up and cried. 

I’m devastated of course, but I realise the ugly truth is better than a pretty lie.

In Cambodia I realised a strength I never thought I’d have. A capacity to learn more about myself, observe the intricacies and beauty of another country and culture in a way I’ve never done before – despite all of my travelling.

I had a motorbike accident, and have the scars from it, but the scars are reminders of the pain I endured and fear I endured alone. 

I realised how being apart from my kids had an immense effect on me. 

I realise how important they are to me, and how my behaviour and response to situations will model them. Teach them. And I want to teach them something different from what S and I learnt from our parents failed marriages. You can and should work at it, but when all else fails, there is no shame in seeking a better life for yourself – and it’s completely possible to start again, no matter your age or circumstance. No one should settle or pretend for the sake of themselves or anyone else.

The kids will learn that we love them. We’ve already taught them the foundations of acceptance, that families come in all models, orientation, gender, culture, etc. to learn that two people can separate and still love them equally is a profound message.

I feel sad. My husband and I have been together for 17 years. A lot of history, a lot of changes and challenges. More than most. But now we part as friends, wishing only the best for each other.

I accept that I will never get closure to my past, not in any tangible sense. That some periods of remembering will be harder than most. 

But like everything else, I have survived. I will continue to survive, to grow and to learn.

But I can’t carry the heavy weight of bitterness and anger around, unleashing it’s unfairness at any given opportunity. I must deal with my scars, manage my wellbeing and continue to put my children’s needs first.

2016 is going to be painful and it’s going to be tough. All that I’ve known and at times taken for granted is changing. But I feel in my heart that this change is about being truthful, and it’s about making a real life for myself. 

I don’t know where I’ll be this time next year. But if I’m lamenting about how unfair life is, how everything is against me, how I’m weak and lonely – then I’ve achieved nothing at all and failed at my responsibility to myself and my children. And all that my husband has taught me and previously supported me through.

I wish everyone reading this a good and healthy 2016. An honest and accomplished new year.

I am scared, lonely, terrified, but I’m strong, determined and don’t want to live unhappily with anyone who doesn’t want me in their life. 

I own my mistakes, my regrets, but realise there is no way to change that, only to apologise, acknowledge and aim to be a better person.


Ghost of Xmas past

With S away the last couple of nights – the kids have gone psycho. The stimuli, the presents, the hot weather, the bad diet, all taking its toll. Over tired but not sleeping. 

Xmas was good. It felt ‘normal’ as though we were any family on earth. No issues or arguments. Aside from my obsessiveness over mess and clutter, we all faired well. In fact I found myself forgetting the stresses and strains over the last few months. The odd jerk of reality would send signals of pain and ache, but the noise and my frantic tidying distracted from that.

Now the man of the house has gone to catch up with friends and the fall out of Xmas over excitement has hit base. Last night I felt so tired I couldn’t have written my own name. But the kids kept going, kept pushing, kept bordering mania, until 2am my son past out exhausted in my bed, there was silence and I almost cried with relief, then the cat and kittens started up. 

I managed to get bouts of sleep. Thrust into the depths of dreams about my childhood. Fragments, distorted memories, fears, and I woke often in panic. Trying not to wake my son. I know this has been triggered because the kids wanted Sylvanian family stuff for Xmas, a thing from my childhood and seeing the familiar branding and collection of miniature animal families and entire housing developments has brought memories for me. But not pleasant ones. 

Im still in the zone, the ‘push it away, deal with the emotion later’ zone. That’s been my coping mechanism for the last few weeks.

At one point between the cats scratching at the door and another suffocating dream I woke as a panic attack was beginning. I wanted to reach for the light, reach for diazapam, cry out, but my maternal instincts knew my soft, pale skinned baby boy was next to me. I looked over at his sleeping face, the warm glow from my salt lamp highlighting his gorgeous round cheeks, long eyelashes, arms either side of his head. Total peace, total calm. I lay staring at him, better than any drug, I became entranced by his beauty, his peacefulness, his look of blissful sleep. My breathing calmed and I felt that familiar sense of love and protection for him. My pride, my purpose, my son.

As I lay there, my thoughts changed and  I wondered about my own parents, if they’d ever looked at my sleeping child body in awe and wonder. Pride, love, protection.

I know the answer. My mother couldn’t cope with her much longed for baby and my father worked long hours and drunk too much. I wasn’t protected, I’m not sure if they ever really cared for me more than themselves.

I thought too of my attacker. If he looked at his children with a protectiveness and love, a sense of pride. I wondered if he remembered the things he did to me, and worried for his own children. 

Unfortunately this lead to a flashback. His ‘apology’ as he ‘kissed it better’ – the shame of that will never go away. I felt my body burn with shame, feeling dirty despite a shower only hours earlier. How it came as a surprise that lovers do that act, some even enjoy it. How disgusting. The whole thing is disgusting. 

Why had my brain followed this train of thought? Why was I allowing these memories to infest my soul and gnaw away at me like rotting flesh? Do I have a desire to torture myself? Can I not just lie and watch my peaceful son? Must I have this ritual of sabotage so everything is darkened? 

I have put my past and PTSD symptoms on the backburner. There is no room for them here – in all the mess of my broken marriage and need to be strong.

But night is an envelope, I’m at the mercy of my dreams. My nightmares. And even my son’s light snoring can’t take away the places I’ve been and seen and felt.

I’m a fragmented person, and in the present, I choose the part of me that’s logical, unemotive and unresponsive. Better than breaking down again I suppose, at least I’m still functioning and have a modicum of usefulness about me.

This morning, the kids were predictably exhausted, but I’d promised them pancakes at the mall. In a toss up between trying to keep the house tidy and manage sibling arguments, and driving to the mall for pancakes, I’m opted for the latter. Although my mood was already frayed. I let the girls get their fingernails painted, duly fed them pancakes, and drove home. Keen to read my kindle and let the kids play in the sun, burn off energy. 

Instead I found out a friend of mine that I’d previously helped was hospitalised. I phoned her, she’d had a complete breakdown over Xmas. She went from the emergency department to the psyche ward. I offered to see her tomorrow. I hate going to those places, I absorb energy like a sponge. Plus it’s a reminder that I coast close to those places. But I want to show my support and take her things she needs. People tend to back away at these times, but I want to plunge right in, let her know it’s ok. There’s no shame and there’s hope.

How will I process that emotion after? I’ll deal with it another time. 

I’m in a one man bubble at the moment. I see everything, I  deal to it, then I go to bed and do the same the next day.

Just a regular person. With a burden of shame, a backlog of woeful stories that no one wants to hear and a tidy house.

And this is how I’m choosing to survive.


All I want for xmas

This is where I’d like to be for Xmas. A desolate pacific island – aside from a hut that sells chilled beer. Preferably by topless PI men with tribal tattoos.

I don’t think I’m asking much!

S has explained (finally) what’s been on going on with him and why he’s been so distracted and stressed and needed ‘more time.’ It was a genuine plea for time not a ‘I’m putting you on a trial period and will review my stance in the new year’ thing that it seemed to be.

I’ve offered support and said I’ll hold off expectations from him over Xmas until mid Jan. But emotions, love and all the ingredients of a marriage don’t come into it. There is a huge gap between us. So I’ll honour his stress and support that, as we have 17 odd years backed up behind us where I can’t switch off.

But in my reality, and rather selfishly, I do feel neglected. He made a choice to prioritise his issues and in that came arguments and coldness that were hard for me. I pleaded for our marriage, had many a sleepless night, cried so many tears over the man I’ve lost.

I don’t hear his issues and switch back over. And neither can he.

Today I’ve been so drained. No emotional energy at all. We took the girls to the movies and I was asleep in seconds, slept right through. I couldn’t do the ‘happy family’ thing. I tried, but S creates a presence now that tires me, confuses me. Makes me doubt myself and lose my confidence.

Xmas is too stimulating for my psyche. The noise, the excitement, the decorations and Mariah Carey seemingly on a loop following me. The malls are packed. I have to partake in inane conversations with strangers, force my enthusiasm, and try to keep my damn house tidy!! The decorations just feel like an over spill of mess and chaos. 

I’m not going to win any mother awards of the year – I get it. I’m a self absorbed bitch.

I’ll smile sweetly on Xmas day, battle with packaging, have my black bag ready for mess, and try to ‘let the kids be kids’ but find the line between over excited, hyper, climbing the walls and just having fun.

I haven’t had fun myself for a long time. I loved my time in Cambodia but it was tainted by S’s declaration of falling out of love with me. I still gave my time there a bloody good shot and have great memories. But the motorbike accident ended things. I’m still getting medical treatment for my shoulder and S has been droning on at me about the travel insurance as though I’m the one not making it happen quick enough. I get his frustration with that, but I’m still trying to get my shoulder sorted, get my marriage/separation sorted, and of course still deal with nightmares and triggers. So whilst I appreciate the need for recompense, it would be nice if he showed the same interest in me.

And that is what it comes down to. I’ve needed to be loved, supported and communicated with. But instead I’ve been ostracised, felt alone, and have had to deal with everything in bite size pieces.

Kudos to me – I’ve bloody been doing it! I could have sunk into a pit of depression. Let my brain guide me into a deep dark hole with no light, no hope. Moped around in dirty pjs, not showered for days, not talked to anyone. But I’ve fought that demon. I keep in contact with friends, I’m clean, I care about my appearance, and I drive back and forth almost daily to ensure we all have clean clothes (still no washing machine).

I liaise with companies, I get things done and I take responsibility  for my mental health. I saw my psychiatrist today and she is impressed that I’m still going, still surviving. Determined not to be dragged down

But the anxiety is bad at times. Sometimes I can’t swallow and I fear I’ll choke on my pills, sometimes the chest pain is so bad I wonder if it’s a heart attack. And I can find myself breathing so hard as though I’ve run a marathon. But still, I manage it, alone.

There’s no real down time because it’s school holidays, but some evenings I just have to shut myself away. It would be different if S was my support and close ally, but I can’t be around everyone at one time playing peace keeper, negotiator and bouncer. All the while wanting to scream for peace and just some understanding. My marriage isn’t the kids issue and nor should they be expected to make allowances.

Xmas is a holiday, ha! Holiday! But I need to get through it, even if it means relying on Valium for the duration.

In the new year it’s time to focus on the challenges that lay ahead – which I’m ready for.

But limbo isn’t for me. I’ll pay my dues for now, but in life I need clarity, I want time frames, I want structure. 

I think the damage between S and I is irrepable – does he agree? No fucking idea. Frankly I don’t know whether he’s thinking about what to eat, his stress, a conversation he had 2 days ago, or how he thinks about me. I don’t know what he means when he says things, I don’t understand his tone or facial expression. Frankly he could spend the day talking to me in Japanese. He could speak in monotone, he could find me utterly repulsive and revolting. He could be plotting my death, he could be blaming me for the wars in the world. Or he could simply be wondering when Liverpool are next going to play.

I got nothing on him.

And I’ve given up trying to work it out. As per his wishes, I’m suspended until due notice. I’ll wait, but it doesn’t stop my heart from feeling crushed, and it doesn’t give us a pass to act normal.

So when I say I want to be alone on a desert island, I think it’s understandable. People are hard work, Xmas lights are dazzling, traffic is shit, everyone has stopped with basic road rules like giving way. There is chaos in the towns, chaos in my home, chaos in my heart and mind.

All I want to think about is what beer to drink next, whether to go for a swim or not, chat to people with no emotional ties.

Life is fucking hard some times. And right now my body, mind and spirit are all wrung out.

I miss my best friend and soul mate whom I could have got through this with. But that’s not the way it’s meant to be.

Christmas pride and pain

This Christmas might just top it as worst ever.

I’m trying to be happy for the kids. I watched my son in a school concert yesterday that brought tears of happiness and pride. 

I’m so proud of my boy. He even got a surprise visit by Santa 

Of course the emphasis is on family and we were all there. The girls equally as excited and supportive of their brother.

But I didn’t miss the deep feeling of sadness. The reality of our last family Christmas.

S has finally sorted a lawyer. I’m annoyed it’s taken so long and it’s passed the deadline said by my lawyer, so in essence I’m still in limbo. Scared at what my future might hold. I don’t think he will move out as previously suggested. But I will move out. I don’t care anymore so long as we’re not living in this horrible situation. I don’t know who he is anymore, anything I do is wrong, and he seems so full of resentment and disdain for me. I feel suffocated.

I want us to sit the kids down after Xmas and reassure them whilst we love them all very much, their father and I have decided to be friends. I’d like them involved in the new property, so they know they have two homes, two safe places with people that love and adore them and that won’t change.

I felt sick with hurt and dread at the thought of losing my husband but now I know I’m doing the right thing for both of us. We will start hating each other if forced to live like this – and I’d really like it if we could maintain a strong friendship after so many years together. And I want the kids to know we’re United.

I want control back in my life. I want to be able to manage my finances and let go of this dead marriage. I want to move on, find my strength and the ability to live a healthy, normal life. I’m sure S wants that too, but he won’t do anything without a fight. I’m anxious about the court costs, but at least I know we’ll get a resolution one way or another and I will repay my debt. Eventually sell the house, and then we’ll finally be able to free of each other, aside from parenting our children.

I managed to see a dr for my migraine medication and I’m still doing my best to get up, live every day and not be sucked into the depths of depression.

I’m looking forward to the looks on the kids faces at Xmas. Im looking forward to sharing their joy and happiness. But I’m not looking forward to the gap between me and a man that used to adore me. That used to touch me gently and kindly. 

But I am looking forward to the new year. A new start, as terrifying as that might be. All I care about is supporting the children. The rest will fall into place.

I’m a single woman, but I’m confident of my strengths and I have amazing friends that have been supporting me all the way. And I have the most beautiful kids that deserve the very best parents – unfortunately in our case, the very best means not being together.

Visiting hell at night

Last night S told me he didn’t want to separate. It wasn’t  a passionate, considered declaration. It was mentioned in passing, like asking if I’d moved the coffee table. I couldn’t take his comment with any depth. In fact I felt defensive, angry and confused. The conversation quickly moved on to planning our son’s birthday in the new year. I can’t cope with mixed messages, contradictory statements and trying to fathom what’s going on in his head. I’m tired, I’m hurt, I’m trying to move on. He hasn’t said or done anything to convince me that he actually loves me and doesn’t want this separation. The letter didn’t blind side him, I told him what I was doing. He’s known all along. My gut feeling is that it is what he wants, but he’s scared. As I have been, to accept its over. To accept we can’t carry on as we are.
Job rejections kept floating in on email. I’d had a busy day, another tip run causing pain in my neck and shoulder. Cleaning my car thoroughly, taking the kids for haircuts. Physically I was drained but emotionally i felt rejected and full of shame.

An attack, a domestic abusive relationship, a marriage breakdown and not finding work. The one common denominator – me. Even my parents don’t love or care for me. The feeling of being an unwanted, unloved and more than just a square peg in a round hole. An outright rejection of society. Someone that will never fit in.

As the cloud of depression and sadness crept over me, I decided to grab yet another early night. Away from everyone. I took two sleeping pills and longed for a quiet decent sleep.

It didn’t come. I had torturous nightmares, being pinned down, being attacked, being terrified, screaming for help. Memories of childhood, memories of the attack, memories being held against my will. My mind pushed to wake up and in a half wake state I was screaming out for my husband. But he was deep asleep on the couch. I couldn’t move my limbs, I’d fall back into a horrible dream of terror and scream out as my brain fought to wake. I was literally lying in the bed feeling pinned down. My body not my own, demons of my past holding me down, doing what they wanted. Occasionally I could see people in my dream, my mother, friends at that time. I pleaded for help but they just stood back. Sometimes I knew what was coming and tried vehemently to fight what I thought was actually happening, no sense of past or present. But in every scenerio I lost and had to experience it all again.

Frankly as nightmares go and the terror and fears and memories have tortured me over the years – this was an experience so terrifying I’ve not had anything like it for a long time. I can’t remember being so vividly confused and out of control. 

Eventually I was able to push my body into an almost wake state, my head pounding painfully as though hungover. I staggered out to my husband, asking for help. He was very deep asleep but he joined me in bed and a bit uncomfortably held me. I cried a little, but sleep was dragging me back. The nightmares didn’t return, but dreams of trying to get to places and not being able, walking over dangerous bridges were my continued dreams. I don’t remember my husband waking and getting ready for work. Although my migraine was excruciating. I did ask if he could drive the kids to school – but he said he couldn’t he was too busy for work.

Blinded in one eye, nauseous and exhausted with the feeling that my body was dirty and not really mine, I drove the kids to school and stopped at a chemist for migraine medication. I was too tired and in too much pain not to sleep. Although I was scared.

The glacier was waiting to repair two damaged Windows, I waited impatiently for him to finish. No privacy and polite chatter.

Finally I fell into bed and slept. But the house was such a god awful mess from the kids. Cereal bowls, spilt milk, clothes and laundry strewn over the floor. I can’t rest with such total chaos. So in the end I got up to organise, to tidy away, to load the dishwasher to wipe surfaces and put things away. My need for control and order in the house has grown. As it seems I have no control in any other aspect of my life.

The migraine is a dull thud. It would come back full force if I’m not careful. I’ve had bad attacks since my accident but never a migraine so powerful and debilitating for a long time.

Some images from the nightmares will filter through my mind. The fear less gripping but the sense of loneliness and helplessness is present. I text S to thank him for his support in the night.

It’s a miserable wet day, not particularly summer like, but I’ve been cold to the bones. I’ve had the heat pump blasting all day and I’m wrapped in blankets. 

My phone is on silent today. I’m not able to speak to anyone, deal with more rejections or handle anything else. I don’t want to go out. 

I don’t know if it’s accumulated stress that has caused this, maybe I was due a really bad night, maybe all of my hurt has snowballed and my brain processes it in the most horrible of ways.

But I feel shaken to my core.

I had to rely on S for comfort when he’s not really there for me. I was reminded that essentially I am alone. The child in me feels stirred and frightened. I’m not even sure who I am anymore.

I’ll give myself today, to rest and heal, but I need to remain on point. Focussed and self assured.

So I may be the cause of my own fucked up life, but I don’t believe I asked for this pain. And I believe I can get through it. After all, I am my only advocate. 

Holding on

Today S received the letter I’ve written up with my lawyer. I received a text from him acknowledging it and a sad emoticon face.

He asked me to leave it over Christmas, he said he couldn’t cope.

Today I felt ill, followed on from the weekend. I am only half aware of my being present.

On Friday night I went to a bloody ‘Nutri medics’ presentation – it’s basically like Avon. I thought it would be a good opportunity to catch up with friends. Instead it was a full on sales pitch. I’m not interested in their range of skin care products. And I was tired and restless from the week. I would have pulled out but I was the sober driver for friends. They all drank and managed to relax, I just sat there with a painfully stiff neck and the warnings of a migraine. Every time I tried to disappear for some peace, I was herded back to the crowd. Given a ‘guilt trip’ about buying things so my friend would get discounts. I didn’t buy anything, I was there to be a support. To get out of the house and to feel normal. But I didn’t feel normal. I didn’t feel good at all.

By the time I finished driving everyone around it was after 11, my head hurt so much I could barely see. I got home to a dark house. Which I hate. I used the torch on my phone to lock up the gate and see my way to the bedroom.

My lawyer from the UK is chasing for more money. I have no idea why. I don’t understand what he’s done or been doing. S said he’d deal with it, but the emails keep coming. A constant reminder of a painful past with no closure. All hope has died on that front and I know it’s waste of energy thinking about it. My energy is best used with this seperating, the kids and the pain associated with it.

My medication has increased, I rely on sleeping pills. I’m also a step away from crying all the time but hold back that emotion.

S carries on, usually on his phone, I don’t know who he is talking to and I have to accept its not my business. 

The girls often remark I seem sad, but I’m trying to hide it. 

I’ve lost my best friend, my soul mate. When I sleep I have nightmares, diazapam saves me from daily panic attacks. 

I receive frequent rejections for job applications. Not even an interview.

I’m in this limbo of hell. Unfortunately unlike S I can’t hide my head in the sand.  I can’t do this awkward flat mate thing. Pretending nothing of depth is going on.

He’s told me he doesn’t love me. He’s told me he can’t come back from his resentment towards to me.  He agrees the separation is mutual.

And yet, I feel like the villain in all of this.

I wanted a husband and a family. I wanted a normal life, with love, mutual respect and trust. But it’s irreparable. 

I am so miserable, so sad and so alone. Keeping my head above water.

Life has taken another unpredictable, painful twist. 

So when S says he can’t cope anymore. I wonder if he knows what it’s like to juggle a myriad of pain. To know I’m doing what he really wants, letting go. I don’t make him happy. I haven’t for some time. I’ve been trying to accept that, even though I love him so much and want him in my life more than anything. But he’s been gone for a long time.

I don’t believe I can take anymore heartache. I am going on for my kids. I am going to be strong for them. 

But in the darkest hour, the tears are mine. The feeling of no control, no love, no hope, an unknown future. That is my reality now.

Wow! What a stinker!

Today I had no plans. And because of the stress and rushing around I’ve been doing I figured I’d have a nice relaxing day, aside from household chores. 

The increase in laundry was bugging me though and the more I tidied the bigger the bags of laundry grew. The kids really don’t grasp the concept of laundry baskets. As I was due to pick up some clean items, I decided a trip to the laundromat was necessary. It was begrudgingly.  My head aches and the stillness of the day gave my brain plenty of time to consider my life as a single parent. And the eternal feeling of, how the hell did I get to this? 

I vow never to take my washing machine for granted again.
So, off I went. Throbbing head. Boot full with black bags. No music soothed me like usual. Everything was noise. And I was hitting every red light. I felt miserable, tired, the weeks events still jumbling around my head.

Because of my shoulder, I like to park close to the laundromat because of course it gets painful carrying items. Or worse still, it painfully stiffens and I drop things. One park remained and I guess I carelessly slid my car through a gap in between the bugger that wouldn’t shift in an inch forward in the traffic. I was careless. Was I too busy in thought? So tired from the events of the last couple of weeks? Just plain bloody stupid, the front of my car nicked the side of the parked car on my left. A few scratches and caught the indicator light. Of course, my car was fine. But it happened to be the oldest piece of crap of a car that I could scrape. Already dented and on its last wheels as it was. But regardless, I called the non emergency police immediately, reported what I did and gave the plate numbers. The car didn’t have a ticket in it, so I had no idea what time the owner would be back. I wrote a note with a grovelling apology, my details and then took pictures and called my insurance company.

I had to make the weary call to him, because as it turns out, I don’t have authority to make claims. WTF?? Not sure when that was changed, but like when I called about the mortgage the other day, I find I’m in fact a non entity, unrecognisable, no power, no authority. He was fine really considering. And in all the calling and holding, I saw the driver turn up. I apologised profusely, I know how bloody annoying it is when someone hits your car. There’s the time it’s off the road, the inconvenience, especially this time of year. She was appreciative that I had gone to the effort of leaving a note and making calls but I still felt like a shit. At least I have insurance (it’s not compulsory in NZ). But still, annoying for her and self loathing for me.

I still dropped off and collected laundry.

As I was driving over a bridge, there was a brush fire in its early stages. I was the first car at a red light with a bunch of closely knitted other lanes at the junction. I saw the fire engine trying to approach but there was simply no room. So I checked the road ahead, clear, and sounded my horn as I drove through slowly. Hoping to give the fire engine more room to manoeuvre.

I wasn’t far along the road when a cop pulled me over about the red light. He seemed angry, aggressive and anxiety took over so I went on the defensive. It lasted all of 5 minutes until I broke down and sobbed about the fire engine and that I was just trying to get out of the way. I got my license out but by this stage he was clearly shocked at my outburst then sobbing. He explained he hadn’t seen the fire engine, and told me to go on. Also checking I was ok to drive. I sobbed that this was the worst time ever and moped back to my car.

He was behind me for a while (it’s a straight highway) and I was just a complete mess at this point. Sobbing along but too scared too pull over. Eventually I was going too slowly for him and he overtook. I finally came to a rest stop where I pulled over and vomited my guts up.

I then just sat in my car and sobbed into my hands until a woman came to my car, knocked on the window and said she saw I was distressed and wanted to check I was ok. She said it looked like the world was over for me. I thanked her rather embarrassed and said it was just silly stuff. It was really thoughtful of her to stop.

Knowing it wasn’t quite as private as I’d thought, I continued my short journey home. Drained, fed up, ashamed, embarrassed and fearing I might have a major meltdown.

The emotions got the better of me today. The grief, the loneliness, the confusion.

In any ordaniry day, my ‘husband’ would have come home, cuddled me, joked at my expense to make me laugh. Suggested a take away and a movie or something. Whatever I needed to feel safe and whole again. But he didn’t. He didn’t offer any comfort or solution. Not that I should have anticipated it.

I need to get used to this. I’ll have bad days, good days, eventful days. But they are for me alone to deal with. I realise just how hard single mothers have it. Trying to look after themselves and their kids, without a partner to rely on. To support, to laugh about things with.

The sadness, the grief, the stifling realisation of how just how disastrous things have become came at me like another tidal wave.

I’ve spent this afternoon lying on the bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. Knowing these days will come but I’ll have the kids alone. Perhaps it will be easier because the pain of having someone around that isn’t part of your life anymore is awful. It’s almost suffocating to see a person that has no love for you anymore everyday. A constant reminder.

Today was a bad day, and to be honest as I sat sobbing on the side of the road, post bump, post cop, I really did feel like my world was ending.

It’s true, my world is changing dramatically. Everything I knew – it’s gone. But I don’t feel it’s over. I don’t have the urge to hang myself from the light fittings. The thing is, there is a tiny shred of belief in myself and the bond I have with my children.

It’s not just me, it’s me and my children. And they need to see a positive mother who can cope with life changes. They should never feel that all hope is lost.

I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom. My worst nightmare is coming true. But the reality is, it’s here. I’m in it. I can only go one way now. And I’m determined not to let anything else destroy me.