My son, my life.

It's been a while, as usual! I turn to the blog tonight for a few reasons. Firstly my son isn't sleeping well at all, lately. He wakes at around midnight every night and simply will not go back down. He calls for his dad... I want my daddy. I want my mummy and daddy here. I want my happy daddy and happy mummy. Yes, my two year old actually says that. My health visitor (HV) says that he is worried that because he's seen how easy it was for daddy to stop loving mummy, he is worried that daddy will stop loving him, just as easily. He doesn't have the capacity to understand that it's different. All the websites and books and professionals say the same thing. Super-nanny says the same, basically word for word. Yet I feel like if I tell my ex any of that he won't listen, or will just use the occasion to elaborate on how stupid I am and how little I know.

A few days ago, I said to my ex that our son is having a hard time at night especially, and that he needs to talk to him and explain to him about why daddy isn't here. He immediately scoffed and exclaimed angrily "Because I don't love MUMMY!!" He's so consumed with hating me or trying to hurt me, he forgets our son. He doesn't seem to believe that anything, let alone everything, we do affects our precious little one. Actually, saying that, he has a good understanding of how anything I do is something wrong and bad for our son, but he acts like the simple fact is: I am bad and he is good. I replied that our son doesn't care how his dad feels about me, he wants to know why his dad isn't there for him. Now thinking back, I realise that possibly this sentence could be construed as an attack or accusation. However, it really is the truth. My son simply does NOT understand why he cannot have his daddy like he sees his peers at nursery and on T.V have theirs. My ex shrugs it off and says "He'll just have to get used to it, load of parents are separated." To me, this response is a heartbreaking reflection of a cruel world, one that my son needn't be a part of, at least not so soon. There is no reason at all why my son shouldn't have both his parents available to him frequently and consistently. However, my ex cannot face dealing with our son if it rains, or it's dark, or while he has a job or if he is penniless with only enough money for beer. What devastates me more, is that on the day I've asked him to see his son and he says he can't, that same night he arrives at my house extremely drunk and trying to have sex with me. He says that the difference is that when he's drunk he "thinks that everything will be okay".

My ex mirrors things that he's told me his dad did to him and his mum, which I find hard to accept when he has spent so many hours trying to explain to me how different he is from his father. He also seems to think that when I ask him to leave me alone and think of our son, that I am saying this as an attack toward him. I don't want to attack him. He's my sons father and I need him! I need him for my son. We will be forever connected via this little man, and my son not only adores him but also needs him, too. My ex is the most important man, to my son, and because of this he is by default the most important man to me, too. After my son, obviously. This concept is totally lost on my ex. He thinks I just want him back and I'm making up my sons troubles to speak to him. He does and says anything he can to have an excuse to tell me he doesn't love me or that he's moved on, or that I'm pathetic and I still love him. When the truth is, I don't even know who this man is anymore. I do not like the person he is, the things he chooses to do or the way he treats people (especially our son) and I have no feeling other than pity for who he has become. It used to hurt me when he spat out spiteful comments constantly, however now it's more like a stranger has taken up a random vengeance with me. I find it that baffling. If I could choose any situation, it would be to have the man I knew back and we would be a family again. This is absolutely not a possibility, though.

My ex, the man I once had so much trust, love and respect for, has changed far beyond imagination and it's hard to believe that he has any relation to the man I once thought of as a king. My king. In fact, he has changed so much that it's very hard to believe that man ever existed. I may be in semi-denial about many things, but I am well aware that I am at fault for believing in him. His promises to me, before he moved in, were never realised once he was here and the feelings he said he had were never shown. 

enola

The reasons I am not killing myself tonight are: 1. My bedroom is messy. I don't want anyone to see it. 2. I don't have a top on and it's too hot to put one on. I'd rather not be naked when they find my body. Fucking morbid, I know. Self-pitying, wallowing bullshit. Yet also, just fact.

I can't even write what has happened. I read back over diary entries now and then. Visually halted by my cathartic expression of failings of someone or something around me. My dog just died. My mother lied to me. I'm blind in one eye. He raped me... etc. but I can't do it this time.

It's not even as bad as some things. It's not the worst thing to happen to me. But it feels like it. My eyes are twitching. When I bring my hand up to light my cigarette, I realise my hands are shaking. My body, shuddering. I cry a bit and it goes away. It's not even me crying, it's that person who was me. My body. Laying on my bed. I'm watching myself just feeling numb.

I wish I was 14. I wish I was having a panic attack because I'm agoraphobic. I wish my boyfriend had just hit me. I wish I was dying. I wish I was dead. All I want is for my son to be okay. If it wasn't for him I would be dead.

This isn't a case of "I can't cope". I do not want to fucking cope. I want it to end. I don't know how I can go on knowing what I know. Although I know I will go on, I will carry on, I will be okay. But I don't know how. I can't see anything at the end of this "tunnel".... except it's just a box.

Motherfucker.

Know that I cannot go back, but how do I go on?

I wanna know - have you ever seen the rain?

I've been feeling odd, as of late. I mean - well, I'm always feeling 'odd', but... This has been different. It makes sense, we are always changing, evolving, growing, sinking... we are always dying. I have never been a 28yr old single mother before. In fact, I've never been an "anything" before. Yet, I've also never felt so much like a nothing.

I have felt like a nothing, before now I mean. And I have a story - it's just not worth repeating. That being said, as I said, as I'm saying, I have felt like a nothing previously. I just haven't felt THIS before.

I have suffered from depression, agoraphobia and anxiety my whole life. Bipolar type II as well, apparently - although, I have no idea if I was born with that or it just manifested, triggered by drugs, alchohol, abusive relationships etc.

Anyway... I have this thing, where when I'm feeling really deeply perturbed, I can't just say what I feel. I have a barricade within me that stops thoughts and feelings translating to words. (Actually, as I get older, this isn't limited to just when I'm upset. Sometimes I forget simple everyday words, like "remote", "basket", "fridge". I can see the object in my mind and I know what it is for - but I have no idea what the word is. Right brain, left brain issues - I guess.)

I've been feeling really low for some time now. I was feeling low before my ex left me, but being honest - it's really gotten bad since he left. Triggered by him leaving? Certainly, but the split was not the cause. Or am I in denial? Am I feeling this way because of him, or have I always felt this way? Can I not bare the thought of the power laying with him? Or am I using him as an excuse, a diversion from the real problem?

I have been feeling awful. I've felt suicidal before, but not like this. I have even attempted to kill myself in the past, but even then, I didn't feel this bad. I have my son though, so I won't do anything stupid. But that doesn't help the way I feel. In fact, knowing that I have him just makes me feel that much more guilty for the feeling of wanting to end my life.

I feel like I'm dying. I feel like I'm letting go of life. I pray almost every day, to God, for him to end everything. End the world, so that no-one will suffer, anymore. It's entirely selfish, though. I feel like my pilot light has gone out. Everything that interested me, feels empty now. I wish I could sleep all day and all night. I wish I didn't have to ever move again. I want to sit, really still, alone and not speaking, until I feel better.

Tonight is the first night in a long time, I've felt slightly better than that. Like I'm coming out of it. Which I'm used to... the ups and downs of a bipolar life. I feel glad to have more understanding of my illness, or at least to be able to see a pattern and predict what is next.

But I am always running. I have always been running from the aching darkness in my life. I pgysically have an ache inside me all of the time - and I know it's emotion. I know that I'm not ill (yet) really, but that my emotions have no way of getting out of my body so they make me ill.

Like I said, I'm always running. I can never just "be". Ever. I feel like as soon as I stop, it catches up with me and I'm swallowed whole.

Emotionally raped.

I can't escape. I am totally trapped and enveloped in an excruciating, desperate feeling of desire and turmoil.

How can a person, me, have a person, him, in their lives for so long... dedicate so much, give so much, doubt so little... and then just accept, they’re gone? How can you be told constantly, almost daily, to trust that they will never leave you, experiencing every since nuance of life and your CHILD together, only to be told, they are in fact leaving you. GONE.

You go from hearing “I love you so much, I will never leave you. I’d have to be physically removed from you” to hearing yourself say “I am a single mother... I am doing this on my own now.”
How can you forgive so many things, learn to cope and deal with so many things for someone else, only for them to just disappear. Disappear into a life of drinking, gambling, late nights... whatever they want. How can someone be so fickle and self absorbed? So short sighted?

How can that same man, that did love you, he promised you he did... how can he spend all that time knowing everything about you... only to turn into the lad that turns up for a shag and leaves asap in the morning. How can a man be with you, crying, through childbirth telling you he loves you... only to use you so blatanly like you were shit on his shoe?

Being suicidal is so 90’s bedroom. But I literally want to tear every piece of skin from my body. Disfigure myself so that no-one can ever recognise me, see me, touch me again... I’d go through labour a thousand million times just to not have this pain, right now. I’d face labour every day for the rest of my days, for my heart to be in one piece again.

I have felt this before, when my dad died... this pain that just won’t leave your body or your mind and fills the whole house with a dark cloud that stops you breathing. Even when you are smiling... it’s more of a grimace. And the difference is... my dad didn’t choose to leave me.

I know I need to “just move on” as they say... shag around... shag as much as possible until I’m numb and indifferent. Validate myself on a regular basis. Super mother by day – ex girlfriend slut by night. Laughing at the man I love as much as possible. Trying to make every man that isn’t him look amazing.

THE WORST THING IS – this was a shit relationship. Terribly flawed. Excruciating. Volatile, impulsive, immature and rocky. People, everywhere I turned – including his mother, telling me I was too good for him, asking me how I put up with him. Even he would ask me that sometimes. He was a drunk, and a fool, ignorant and stubborn, refusing to see anyone elses point of view or even listen to opinion that differred from his own. Loud to the point of embarrasment, causing trouble everywhere he went. Anti-social and cowardly. Egotistical to the point of stupidity, denying his actual intelligence. Totally impossible – burning every bridge he walked on AS he walked on it.

But I loved him.

I think how if I had died 5 weeks ago... he would have been upset. Devestated. He would have even cried a bit. But now, when asked if he could bare the thought of me kissing someone else, holding someone else, having a baby with someone else... he replies that he is indifferent. I think I wish I had died 5 weeks ago rather than this.

The moral of the story is, I guess... not to give up on love. But to make sure that the person in question of being loved is the shit, and to do this before you even look at them. When they’re a pathetic mess, been chucked out, not even their own mother will take them and they need you... spit on them. Spit in their face. Make sure they know how worthless they are. Because, it seems, that loving someone unconditionally, no matter what, offering your life and everything in it on a sacrificial platter to someone who has nothing themselves, someone with no future and no aspirations, no ambition or drive... Loving someone so much even with the knowlege that they are barely even humanoid and are essentially the missing link - ignoring all of this and looking within, choosing to see that they are damaged and feel for them, want to protect them and love them... all of this just gets you fucked over. Totally and utterly, unbelievably and impossibly fucked over. Emotionally raped.

So when this soul comes along, he'll make you think he's a nice guy, sure he looks odd and has nothing to offer - he'll make you pay for everything and treat you like he owns you - but tell you all his woes... and make you know how hurt he was by his father. In the end you'll love him so much you want to kill his father just to protect this man. BUT, before you get to that stage... take one look at him... and spit on him. Because he is a twisted, evil, bitter LOSER. He has nothing good to put into anyones life. You can make an amazing son with this man - but make sure you don't expect him to be anything than a pathetic loser father to your son, too. I mean - he didn't have a role model so how could he know how to be a good husband or father? He was never taught to look after a woman, his child, his family unit... poor poor thing. Wait, don't listen... spit on him. 

Because I would love to go back in time, to the moment he said "oh you have freckles... I didn't know you had freckles..." and SPIT IN HIS FACE. Because you don't want to turn out like me. Sat in the home that was your family's home, alone. Trapped inside a love with someone who has continually shat on you and then looked dumfounded when you were unhappy. Someone who asked asked you what your problem is as they've pissed on your sofa. Someone who you have told every single one of your hopes and dreams to as they've said "sorry I wasn't listening." But they said sorry, so that's alright then? Someone who thinks that when you cry... it means you're crazy. But when they cry, it's important. A man who's idea of trying to make things work is sitting on his own in a room and then wondering why things aren't working, blaming YOU for things not working. Someone who says he is so unlike, prides himself on being so unlike the usual man... except will hit you, blind you, choke you... and tell you it's your fault.

Don't waste your life being angry and hurt. It's too late for me, but just avoid this man and you will be okay.

I will thow away all my photo albums... all the pictures of my son when he was born.... in the bin. every memory that I have I will try to get rid of. Burning five years out of my skin with cigarettes. trying to wipe my brain.

De-ja-vu

I once had a boyfriend who, well he wasn't really a boyfriend, more of just a guy I was sleeping with, who I really thought I was in love with. I wasn't, incidentally, but that is not the point here. He used me for sex and company and had little respect for me. He would come over, sometimes after we had gone out, sometimes he would spend a whole week with me... But whatever, he would be at mine, we'd have unsatisfying sex and he would fall asleep clutching me like I would disappear if he didn't. I could never, and still can't, sleep whilst being that close to someone, so I would worm my way down out of his arms and out of bed. Silently. Almost frightened. I would then just go about my normal nocturnal activities; writing, smoking, online browsing etc. but that was always my most favourite part of the "relationship" because in that time... He was mine. He was in MY bed, breathing my air, dribbling on my pillows. And I could pretend that we were a couple, pretend that we were living together, that we had something more... I could pretend that in the morning he would love me.

Seven years later I find myself feeling the same thing; this time with my ex of five years, the father of my child. He came here for sex, no doubt, and I probably would have done it... But he fell asleep on the sofa while I was in the shower.. And here I am, watching him. Watching him and pretending that in the morning he will love me.

This is the man that was with me while I was in labour with our son, the man who has seen me poo. I have seen him in every possible light. I know every tiny cell on his body like the back of my hand... Better than that, even. The man that I was so sick of I refused to even look at him at all some days.

But somehow... I am now watching him sleep and regretting not looking at him more often before.

As you know... he said he didn't love me anymore.

I was going to type out all of these feelings I've been having... especially tonight... I mean, I confessed to something I did a while ago, it wasn't really that bad, just something I never told him before. And he went ballistic... and again he just said the same things, again!

Ok, yeah I know you don't love me. Yep, and I think I've heard that you hate me somewhere before, too? Oh really, we're done now? I thought, I'm pretty positive actually, that we broke up 4 weeks ago?

IRONY.

But now.... instead of typing all the feelings I was feeling... I'm going to go to bed.  The one thing I will say is... that this is the first time I've done something to hurt someone, intentionally. I know he can't control himself. I know no-matter how often he says he doesn't love me... he's just an idiot really. And now? I feel good. It feels good to give him just the slightest little idea of how he's made me feel for 5 years. I promise, to myself, that I won't ever do something to hurt someone again though. No matter how much they deserve it. I don't want to end up like him... I was just playing at being him for the night.