Holidays

Yay! It's nearly the weekend and schools out! Well almost out, as we have an inset day tomorrow. Husband is having the children this weekend and I'm looking forward to some time away, although looking forward is often the hard bit. When you're single you can plan ahead, I so want to plan ahead and look forward, but once children come into the equation it's different. What happens if they're ill, or need me or... Anyway, I am looking on the bight side and hoping things will be fine. I am very much looking forward to my weekend.

Next week, when Husband has returned to work, my children are mine, all mine. We haven't got much planned, just tentative arrangements with friends, but I am looking forward to a fair few days of not having to be on the hamster wheel, no early mornings, no school pick-ups, no after school events. Just time. Time to spend doing not much in fact. I think all our batteries need recharging, and Tall Girl is hormonal now, so hopefully she can take that out on her dad and will be fine by the time I get her!

What are you doing for Christmas?

"What are you going to do for Christmas" My mother asks for the umpteenth time.

"I have no idea" I reply truthfully, for I really don't. I live a week at a time right now. I cannot plan, so much is beyond my control, or so it seems.

"Well you know you are welcome" She says soothingly. Yet it does not sooth.

For as long as I have had children I have tried to avoid being at home for Christmas Day. It is all to do with my Step Father, I do not wish to spend it with him, especially with my children. He drinks, he becomes inappropriate, I do not wish to be there.

For years I have beaten around the bush. I have never really said outright that I don't want to spend Christmas at home. I have used the children as an excuse. They need to be in their own home, I would say, as indeed they do.

The consequence of this is that Mum has always come to me for Christmas, leaving my Step Father at home, because even if asked, he would never come. Doing so would mean my mother would make him drive and then he couldn't drink.

However this means she comes alone on Christmas Eve and goes home to cook dinner with him at about 3pm on Christmas Day. It has worked, in the past, but I know it is not her ideal Christmas. She has always wanted to do the Whole Family Celebration in her home. Part of me has always wanted to point out that she made her bed therefore has to lie in it! But I have not.

I can't believe she thinks I would rather be in her house. Even though there is a very real possibility that Husband and I may be here together, which is unthinkable in it's self, even so I still have no wish to run to her house. And anyway, I can't take the children away from their father on Christmas Day, unless we have negotiated it. Which we have not, yet.

I grab the bull by the horns "We won't be with you Christmas Morning" I say, assertively "But you know you are still welcome here"

I know she won't come here, we have already discussed it. She avoids Husband at all costs. "I don't like being anywhere where there is an atmosphere" She states

"I have to put up with it all the time" I say bitterly.

I feel unsupported by her. Perhaps I am being unfair.

She looks disappointed, she has always seen her grandchildren on Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning. I think about the alternative, I know I cannot do it. "Most Grandparents see their grandchildren in their own home some Christmases" She says petulantly.

I am reminded that we are, both of us, 'Only Children'.

I have to state my case "But what about Dad?" I say, I do call him that, funny really "He won't be able to cope with the children, there will be breakfast at a certain time, dinner at a certain time. We like to take the day as it comes, sometimes we're still in our pyjamas until lunchtime! I want to be able to relax" There, I've said it.

She is Hurt. I should make her feel better but I have no wish to. I feel selfish. Again. I know that if I do as she wants I will feel very, very lonely in her house on Christmas Day, it is all about self preservation, but I cannot say that, I cannot make her feel better. Sometimes I don't think she has any grasp of how I feel and what major stuff I need to deal with before I get to where I want to be; divorced and independent. Perhaps I am being too harsh?

When she has gone I ask the children if they want to spend Christmas with Granny, I thought that perhaps I should. "No" They chorus. At least I have done the right thing for them.

Torn in two

It is late Saturday night, I am not in my own bed.

I am woken by the sound of a crying child.

It is not normal crying, it is a sobbing, wrenching cry.

It is calling "Mummy, mummy".

I am mummy, but it is not my child.

It is sobbing and gasping,

I try to listen for words to reassure,

him or me I am not sure.

At one and the same time I want to hear and I do not.

I want to hear that he is being cared for.

I want to hear that he is not suffering.

I want to hear that he is not being abused.

But I do not want to hear.

I hold my breath, I cannot hear the words.

He is calling mummy, so many of us answer to that name.

I want to hold out my arms to him, beckon him in, comfort him.

All of you would.

And I think of my own beautiful boy, sound asleep in another home, peacefully asleep with his Granny on guard.

How I need to hug him now.

There is a boy next door, for whom sleep is impossible.

There is a boy next door who needs to feel loved.

There is a mother next door who does not reply, for a very long time.

Then...

Her words are harsh.

"Shut the f**k up" she shouts as he continues to sob.

How could she?

Torn

I am writing this on Saturday morning...

Sometimes I worry abut what I am doing to my children. I worry about what memories they will grow up with, memories about me, about their life. Will they remember this last 9 months above all else? Will they remember how mummy goes away a lot now? Will they remember me being cross? Will they feel abandoned?

Today I am torn. Husband is away, as he was last weekend and I have the opportunity to spend 3 nights in with my children and 2 sunny days together. Last night we watched a film and had popcorn together, but today they don't seem at all bothered about what they do, they are happy to sit around watching TV, and Tall Girl is happy on her PC as I am on mine. But I am torn. Shouldn't I be 'entertaining' them? I have suggested various outings. They don't seem to mind what they do, but I feel guilty if I don't 'provide' them with a lasting and fun memory.

Later today mum is coming to visit. Part of me wishes she wasn't. I am torn again, trying to 'entertain' her and also 'be there' for the children. She wants to sit and chat, I feel I should be 'doing something' with Small Sprog and Tall Girl.

Mum is coming primarily to babysit so that I can go out tonight. Yesterday I broke the news to Tall Girl "But it's X Factor on Saturday night" She moans "I want to watch it with you"

"Well I'll watch the first half with you before I go out, and you can watch the end with Granny"

"But I want to watch all of it with you, it won't be the same with Granny"

And I know what she means. And I feel guilty. I should be here for her. Husband is rarely away and I don't get the chance to sit with her in front of the TV very often.

But I want to go out, I want to live my life, yet at the same time, I am acknowledging that I do that often these days. I feel selfish. I feel I am doing the wrong thing for everyone. And even as I am writing this I know I am just seeking permission.

PS. I went out, after putting Small Sprog to bed, leaving Tall Girl happily tucked up on the sofa with her Granny. She was happy, I was free.

TG and me

Tall Girl made Guacamole tonight to go with Fajitas for dinner. She is quite adept in the kitchen now, and can follow a simple recipe without help or fuss. She's even got over her fear of sharp knives! I like having her company in the kitchen, we have fun.

She didn't even moan tonight when the onions made her eyes water, though it made quite a mess of her mascara! Gosh, mascara on a Friday night on MSN. I fear there is a boy involved!

Anyway, as she was whizzing up the ingredients in the mini food processor, I was suddenly taken aback. It only seems like yesterday that I went to buy the mini processor, bought especially to liquidise her baby food, all lovingly home cooked and mashed to a pulp just for her. I was barely a mother then, practicing on her, my first born, and not always getting it right. I'm sure her fussiness with food is because I liquidised everything for far too long!

And here I am still practising, yet there she is, so confident and full of youth and promise.

Squealing like a piggy!

The hypochondriac in me reared its ugly head last night and lured me into the twilight world of NHS Direct! I should not have succumbed. I blame my mother really, well when all else fails, who else is there to blame?!

I have been feeling pretty exhausted over the last few days and can't shake off my cold and I was saying as much to mum on the phone. She mentioned seeing the Dr. I said that I thought I was more likely to catch something worse if I sat in the waiting room for hours, so she mentioned the NHS direct alternative.

So, later in the evening, when I noticed nasty spots on the back of my throat, the thought was already in my head. I know, I thought, I'll ring NHS Direct. So I did, and after some consultation the lovely lady, (She was not a nurse, I hadn't got that far into the system) on the end of the phone, directed me to the Pandemic Flu website.

'But I haven't got flu' I said.

'Try them anyway' she answered 'I think you should'.

At the website you have to fill in a questionnaire about symptoms. While I was doing it I was also on the phone, perhaps I should have concentrated a little more. At the end of the form I was told I had flu and it gave me a unique code to pick up some antivirals. 'I don't need antivirals!' I said to the screen, but under the code, in highlighted writing, it said that it if you didn't pick them up, you wouldn't be offered them a second time, naughty girl. Well it didn't say that exactly but...

Bum, I thought. So I rang the help line. The lovely man told me that if I didn't pick them up, but then needed them at a later date, I'd had my chips. Only one chance per person.

'Even though I don't need them now?'

'Even though you don't need them now' He repeated

So, next time you hear the news about the rapid rise in swine flu statistics, don't believe a word of it, anyone can self diagnose on the website and be counted in as squealing like a little piggy!!

Today I went off to my nearest collection point, driving licence in hand, to collect my Tamiflu. I felt a complete fraud. All I wanted was something for a sore throat! Although, I have to say, the hypochondriac in me is feeling very smug about being prepared! Black market Tamiflu anyone?!

I'm gonna live forever...

It is my mothers birthday today, Tall Girl had a great idea of what to do with her on her special day. Fame (I'm gonna live forever... quite apt for a birthday don't you think?!), at the local cinema. Mum was thrilled, she loved the original and was very happy with Tall Girls suggestion. I should have let them go alone really!

For a start, there was poor Small Sprog. Well there was no one else to leave him with, so he had to go too. He was very good, he suffered in almost complete silence! That is the second film I've had to drag him to for my mums sake. I bought him a large carton of sweets as compensation and prayed that he didn't throw up before the final credits.

As for me, I am still feeling under the weather with a cold type thingy, and it is making me feel a bit 'low', so I sobbed through most of it!! Yes, sobbed. Thank goodness I sob quietly, I mean for goodness sake, what on earth is there to cry about in Fame (I'm gonna live forever...)? Luckily I could sob into my hankie without too much of a problem, blaming my cold for the runny eyes and nose blowing. How embarrassing. I fear there is just too much emotion flying about at the moment. Either that or I am slowly tipping over the edge...

Seasons Greetings

I phoned Mum tonight, "How are you?" she asked

"Fed up" I replied

"Oh dear"

You would have thought I would have learnt by now. I have made many 'notes to self' about it, DO NOT ring mother when fed up!

It's hard to break the habit though. When I was younger, I often turned to her for support, now I am aware she is judging me, not really understanding, and then worrying about me worrying!

"When you write your Christmas cards" She says, her voice on a high note, under the deluded impression that talking about Christmas might cheer me up. "When you write your Christmas cards..."

What?! I want to shout, Christmas, CHRISTMAS? I nearly drop the phone! How can she expect me to even be thinking of Christmas yet? I am trying to ignore it for as long as possible this year, the whole fortnight of festivities, all here together in the house, well, it's just unthinkable. Yet I know it will come about, and it will have to be negotiated. At the moment I can only think about one thing at a time, and Christmas cards are way down the list, believe me.

"When you write your Christmas cards to Auntie Never-was and Uncle Not-relateds, do you think you can sign them ambiguously?"

"Ambiguously?"

"Well, I haven't told them you see, about your divorce. I'll tell them when it's all over, I don't want to bother them with it now"

Oh for goodness sake is on the tip of my tongue!

For a start, Auntie Never-was and Uncle Not-related and their various clones are all long standing friends of my mothers and nothing very much to do with me. We have exchanged cards for as long as I can remember, and it is only 'tradition' that keeps them on the card list, year after year. They all became Aunties and Uncles when I was old enough to speak my first words and it was impolite to use Christian names when you were little, all that time ago. I'm sure you have some of them somewhere yourself? A dying generation of un-relateds. Thank goodness my children will never have any of them, just first names here!

She doesn't want to bother them with it? I can feel my patience dwindling. "What do you want me to write then?" I retort through gritted teeth.

"Instead of using all your names" She suggested "How about 'from all of us' that would cover a multitude"

The phrase reeled off her tongue in a trice, an instant solution! It was then that I realised that she had had it all planned out! I had been 'Tangoed'! All she was waiting for was my call. The most pressing item on her agenda for the day was 'Suburbias Embarrassing Situation'! Harrumph!

Do you think you can you just pass me that unopened packet of Christmas Cheer please? Now what was that phrase again?

Revelations

I have enjoyed some quality time with Tall Girl today, we have been out and about together, having dropped Small Sprog at his very best friends house. I love time with TG. She is great company when she is not hormonal!

I also find that time in the car, en route to somewhere, is a good time to talk things over. We spoke about the current situation at home, which, I have to say, she seems to be coping with admirably. We discussed moving house (I now know that we cannot stay in our house as it needs to be sold for the divorce settlement) and we looked at some prospective areas of Bristol, weighing up their various advantages and disadvantages.

When we arrived home this evening, just the two of us, she said that she was really looking forward to moving house! She said that she had told her friends as much (I am thankful that she has friends to share her troubles with) and she said that they were surprised. We both acknowledged that living as we do was not conducive to a happy life. I explained that we could only move if Daddy put the house on the market, and that I'd asked him to do it soon.

As an aside, I have explored renting and the cost would be far more than I earn a month, so I would have to pay for the rent with savings, however I can't touch them, because they are part of the settlement. What a vicious circle? At the same time, I can't get housing benefit, because the savings are in my name for tax purposes. At the moment, I have discovered, we are stuck.

Anyway, we wait on Husband to put the house on the market. If he does not, we are very, very stuck, and I don't know what I will do.

However, I didn't say all of this to Tall Girl, I tried to be positive.

''You get on so much better with Daddy now don't you?'' I said '' You do so much more together that you did before'' He was never really involved in family life at weekends unless we all four went out on a day trip together.

''Yes'' She said with a smile ''I used to be scared of him''

Scared of him? She said it in a matter of fact way. It took me by surprise, I always felt that I was the peace keeper, he was often sharp, but I had no idea she had felt like this. The more I contemplate it the more I am shocked. It sounds so Victorian, to be frightened of your father.

They do seem to get on well now. She is his confidante, at last he can see and appreciate her worth.

But the more I think about it the more it worries me. A leopard never changes his spots. How long will it be before he reverts to type? How long will it take before he gets fed up with her?

In the future I will not be there with them both to calm the waters. I hope, as she matures, she can stand up for herself, though I fear she may not as I am not good at it with him. I hope she will not just see him out of duty. I hope she tells me if things aren't right.

Another Small Sprog post!

''Mummy?''

''Yes?''

''Lots of people at school swear''

'Do they?''

''Yes''

''You don't though do you, not at school?''

''No, but I know what all the words mean''

''Do you?''

I look at my beautiful son, his large brown eyes twinkling with mischief, his soft brown curls adding to his cheeky charm.

Which ones do you know then? I ask. He says them by initial - F, S, and C. ''Ah! You know what the C word means?'' I am slightly surprised at this revelation, he is only 9 and a half.

''Yes'' He giggles. I stare at him questioningly.

''Crap!'' He shouts jubilantly

''Oh!'' I say, relieved, ''That C word''!

He giggles and carries on with his meal, my lovely boy, my lovely, almost innocent boy.

Small Sprog grows up

Last night, Small Sprog was pestering me to play conkers with him. ''Just once'' I say, because I'm tired and seem to have a never ending list of chores to do, and things on my mind. I feel guilty for not really wanting to. He seems pleased that I have agreed to play. Perhaps this is because he knows that once he engages my attention, I will actually enjoy it and forget my tiredness. Perhaps he has seen me down a few glasses of wine, knowing that soon they will take effect and I will be as happy and silly as him!

He wanders off into the kitchen

I can hear him scrabbling about in the Kitchen drawers. I know he is trying to make a hole in my conker, so that he can fix the string. I know I should help.

I am tired.

There are some banging and scraping noises in the other room, lots of grunting and a bit of sawing. There is silence and then more banging, some scrabbling around, but no cries for help! After a few minutes I stop what I am doing and go reluctantly into the kitchen.........just in case.

But no need. He has successfully made a hole and a knot and presents me with my prize winning conker. I look at his tools. The end of the whisk from the electric mixer, a huge carving fork, scissors and a knife. There is no blood. There is not even a scratch on the worktop, he has used a chopping board! He has grown up, and I hardly noticed.

We played conkers - his way - and as the wine began to unwind my soul, we abandoned the conkers and played air guitar to very loud music. We had fun.

Last night, he was mine

Privacy

Thanks for continuing to read my ramblings! I am hoping to not be 'Invitation Only' for long, maybe 2 weeks or so.

I made the mistake of leaving myself open to being traced to here by someone who is not part of the blogging community, and whom I know as an acquaintance in the 'real world'. I am very cross with myself for being so careless! I am hoping the interest will wain with time and I can be open again. I really don't mind what people read here, it is how they comment and form opinions which may impact in the non virtual world with which I am concerned.

Anyway, thanks for all your comments. I have always found bloggyland a very supportive and non judgemental place. Hope you do to.

A year ago......

A diary is a wonderful thing. A year ago I wrote this post. Life was more gentle then, the clouds had gathered, but were still a long way from bursting. A year later and I am in the eye of the storm but, as everything around me is in flux, for the moment, I can enjoy just a little peace.

However, like last year, Husband is home Wednesday night, and I feel, as I did a year ago, resentful that I should have to share the house again so very soon. I am wondering, amongst so many other things that need to be sorted out, whether to move out with my children very soon into somewhere rented. There would be benefits a plenty but also some draw backs too. The main one would be that Husband would still live here, and every time he had his custody time with the children, they would have to come back to their 'old home'. I'm not sure I could cope with that, I'm fairly sure it would be very hard for them.

I have asked my solicitor to ask his solicitor (mad isn't it?) if we can put the house on the market. Now. I cannot do it myself, the property is in his name. When we moved in together, years ago, I sold my home and came to Bristol. The mortgage on his property was never changed into joint names. I never realised the implications, but then I never anticipated any of this.

So here I am, in the eye of the storm, helpless but with hope.

A year ago I wondered if I was a bad wife. I have the answer now...........

Thank you to BS5, who inspired this post, by recently recalling some of his earlier entries.

PS. Also belated thanks to Chic Mama who passed on this lovely award last week. Sorry it's taken me so long CM. I can't choose who to give it away to, as I read so many great blogs, so please feel free everyone, if you haven't already received it.

Friends and blessings

Back down to earth now and home for the weekend. It has been a busy 10 days or so, hence lack of blogging. I have had a long chat with my new solicitor. Yes, new! And I feel clearer now about the future, though it all still seems insurmountable at times. There have been arguments at home, the tension rises weekly and I have had a few health worries. All in all I feel a little wrung out.

However, to count my blessings, Husband is away, so the children and I can relax together in our own home. It is lovely to spend time with my children and there be no atmosphere, yet, at ther same time, I very much miss my 'other life'.

Anyway, Mum came over today and it is impossible to be lonely when she is around! She will only come when Husband is away, and he goes away infrequently, so it was good to have her here. She blew in with the breeze at 10 am, to find us all still in our dressing gowns, unwashed! Oh the shame!

This afternoon we all went together to see a very good friend of mine in Cardiff and her, now grown up, family. We lost touch when I married. Husband was never keen to socialise and when my children were small, well, we just went our separate ways for a while. However, it as been so good recently, to be back together again. It feels like we have never been apart. She knows me better than most other people I know, and I never have to explain how I feel to her. We have seen each other through 'thick and thin' over the years and I am very thankful to be part of her life again. The company of good friends, as always, was such a tonic. We laughed and reminisced loads. Tall Girl learnt more things about her mummy, and the time passed happily.

Tonight I am thankful

A double life

This weekend was warm and beautiful.

I spent most of it in the country in wonderful company.

Sometimes, there can be such peace and comfort,

such warmth and trust that you feel your whole heart

swell up with it, revel in it and be glad.

There was lots of laughter this weekend and much kindness, and no matter what happens elsewhere, I have experienced it, it will stay with me.

I am lucky and blessed.

Poor Small Sprog

Small Sprog has extra maths tuition. He hates maths. I'm not entirely sure putting him through more of it does any good at all but I feel I have to try something.

Anyway, his lesson used to be on a Monday night, but today was his first session after the holidays and it's now on a Wednesday.

We arrived home from school and he went straight out to play with the oldest of the nit children, from down the road, whilst Tall girl and I attacked her science homework.

When he came in later, just as I was half way through cooking tea, and said he was tired, something suddenly clicked! I looked at the clock. Ten past five. Oh no, his lesson was supposed to start at 5.

"Quick" I shout "Put your shoes on and get into the car!"The children look puzzled. I babble on about time and changes and maths, shove a buiscuit into Small Sprogs hand, and generally flap about a bit! They both seem to get the picture!

We all rush around, trying to find folders and shutting windows before piling into the car and driving the mile or so to his tutor. We arrive just as she is phoning to see where I am.

I got out of the car, slightly disheveled, to take him safely to the door and apologised profusely. Then I realised that she was staring at my feet. She looked puzzled. I looked down. In the hurry to get there, and after shouting instructions to the children to get ready, I had forgotten to put on my own shoes! Ooops! Sometimes I wonder why I'm let out at all!

X or ex

Tall Girl likes the X Factor, over the last few years we have spent nights through the autumn, together on the sofa, watching all the contestants with interest. Any night would do, the repeats are more frequent than Simon Cowells face lifts! It has been good.

Husband always moaned at having to have it on the TV at all, and I have to say, if it weren't for Tall Girl I don't think I would be watching all of it either, but together with her, it was fun. It was our girly time together.

On Friday night, as the X Factor theme tune played out of the TV, Husband rushed to the sofa to sit by Tall Girl.

"You never used to like the X Factor" I hazarded.

"Was that sarcasm I can hear?" Was his reply.

"No" I said, but he went on, with his own brand of sarcasm.

I find it hard to talk back, especially when the children are around. Why can't I stand my ground here? I hate that I can't be me, I buckle, I am not strong. Why? The harsh words make me cry, which I do silently in the kitchen. I wish it was different.

This year TG has a new TV partner, I should be glad for her. I am sad.

(Then again, hopefully, soon, he will be my ex factor!)

The phone call. Part 3 (Or, money is the root of all evil)

I know it has taken me three days to get to the point, but the phone call was about making a will. Since Mum knew of my imminent divorce, she has worried about sorting out her will. She has been talking about it for ages. I really wish she wouldn't discuss it! I don't want to know, I wish I didn't know now.

What she really wanted to do was to leave her savings to me and also her half of the property that my parents currently live in. To do this she needed my step father to sign an agreement. Apparently there is a way of her bequeathing her half to me which also entitles him to tenancy rights until his death. It sounded complicated but do-able, and she has spoken about it often. She is convinced she will 'go' first, and I have to say, I think she is right, though I haven't actually said so!

Anyway, having heard her 'chunter' on about this for some time, when I called her the other night, and asked her what she'd been up to, she said she'd been to make her new will. I asked her if it had all gone to plan. Now don't get me wrong, I would MUCH rather have my mother here forever, than benefit from any inheritance, but it has been concerning her and so I was hoping it was all done and dusted and that she was happy with what she had done.

However, my step father did not sign the form, which she needed him to sign, so that she could pass her half of the house to me and she was upset that all she could leave me were her savings. She was disappointed.

Apparently he was worried that, should I inherit half the house in the future, I would somehow make him homeless. My initial response was shock. " Of course" I said to her "I would NEVER do that". See how deep the crustacean was buried? To me he is still my father, be it in name only, and I could never, ever do that. She agreed that she knew I would not, but she couldn't persuade him.

Then she told me what he was going to do with his will.

Everything, the property (all of it should he die last) and his savings (they have no joint account) were to be left, not to me, but to my daughter and her only. Not me, not Small Sprog. And what's worse, he was going to leave it in trust for her until she was 35! I will be retired by then and heading towards 70. It was then I became angry, and my mind started to put things together.

All these years, all this time, he has lied to me. Our whole relationship has been full of lies. He has led me to believe, over the years, that he cared. He has done things for me, painted walls and cut the lawn. He has taken my side in arguments, listened to my ranting, he has appeared to care, it has been very convincing. We almost have a normal relationship. Am I mad? I thought, stupidly, that after everything, because I had called him dad, because he had been sorry, because I had known him for most of my life, because he had shown me small acts of kindness, that he loved me. And now it seems he never has. He does not care, he does not want to help. I am nothing to him.

And as I thought about it I realised that, of course he thinks I will leave him homeless! He doesn't trust me. He doesn't realise I hold no grudges. He thinks I don't care, just like he doesn't care about me. But I am still the child, accepting and forgiving, I have done both those things and he has no idea. Though I am not about to tell him now. Perhaps he still sees the situation as the adult. He thinks I hold the things he did to me against him, he thinks I will still tell “Don’t tell your mother, she’d make me go away and that would make her very unhappy”, if only he knew. He thinks that if Mum were gone, I would show, what he perceives to be, my true colours.

Perhaps he is right. Now I know where I stand perhaps I would?

But no, I don't think I could, even now, and anyway it is all academic. He didn't sign and Mum has not had her way. She is used to that. To add to all of it I have 'told'. She has that to bare now, though I'm not sure that she really believes me, even now.

By the end of the call we both agreed that 'money is the root of all evil' Yet there is something pure to have come out of all this. Something that shines through the darkness, it is this; I now know where I am, I know where I stand, I know how he feels about me. I can be fooled no longer. Only the truth is left. Of course we will both go on pretending, playing happy families, having to, needing to. Yet underneath it all I will know, there will be no more confusion. He doesn't love me and I am free.

You can read part 1 here and part 2 here

The phone call. Part 2

............In true stepfather style, he stepped over the decent limit of what is natural and good. I stopped him, but that wasn’t enough, I was caught, we were both caught, in a web of lies and blackmail that has lasted all this time.........

“Don’t tell your mother” He'd said afterwards, when I was 13 “She’d make me go away and that would make her very unhappy”. So goes the speech of many a ‘bad’ daddy. And so I didn’t tell, we, him and me, keep the secret, because we know, I knew, he was right.

Eventually though, children do tell, though it is common for them not to be believed. About 4 years later, in a fit of temper one day, in the middle of an argument, I told my mum. Not all of it, that only happened tonight in the phone call, but I told her enough, or so I thought. I expected something to be done, I'm not sure what.

She did nothing.

I left home when I was 17.

Apparently, what I'd told her, still protecting her even when I was angry, was merely that he had had intentions. Perhaps that is just what she chose to hear, but that is what she believed until the phone call. Was she naive? Perhaps she didn't want to face the truth. "It's not been easy living with him over the years" She said to me last night on the phone. I know that it has been hard for her, but it was her choice.

I said nothing.

Like a large black crustacean, clinging to the back of our minds, scratching and pawing to be released the memory lingered. During the following uneasy years after I left home, we buried it, slowly. We kept the secret and the creature diminished with the years. Untalked about it faded. Perhaps that was for the best.

I was never close to him, could never be close. We never hugged like ‘normal’ families do, or touched or kissed goodbye. It was OK, we could do this, on the surface everything was fine. We looked like any other family, from the outside. Though I did sometimes wonder how my mum could stay. How could she know what she knew, and still be with him? I still don’t have the answer to that question.

Yet I have accepted. I have accepted and forgiven. It is water under the bridge, gone now, and there is nothing to be done. You can't change the past, you can only make the future, and bearing a grudge is not my way, it is not healthy. I do not hold it against him, it is far too long ago for all that.

The nasty dark creature was safe in it’s box for quite some time, until I had my own children in fact. My daughter. How could I protect her? (Let me tell you now, I never ever leaver her alone in his presence) How could I make sure that nothing like that ever happened to her? She was still a baby when I asked that question to a councillor. He replied that by the time she was 13 my step father may be dead! He is not. Though one day inevitably he will be, and that was how the phone call began...........

You can read Part 1 below, or here.

The phone call. Part 1

I really don't know where to start with this story, though it isn't actually a story at all, not in the fictional sense anyway. Do I start with the telephone conversation tonight, or what happened to me when I was 13 years old? Tall Girls age.

Wherever I start, however I write it, it will be long and I won't be able to write it all at once, not here, not in it's entirety. Yet perhaps sometimes things are better left unsaid, undone, as they have been for so long. But then again, they have a habit of coming back to haunt you in later life, many times, as they have done tonight. Maybe now, this is the last time it can hurt me.

And then again this story is about the truth, how it has been hidden, how deception and sweeping under the carpet, can lead to a life time of questions, now answered in just one little telephone conversation. One small, innocent call, made on a whim. A call in which I expected to discuss mundane everyday acts, the children, the day passed and the day yet to come. But we didn’t discuss those things. That call, innocently made, suddenly changed my view of my world. I can see so much more clearly now.

However the reality is harsh, though I knew the truth all along. I never thought though, that the truth would finally be revealed. The deception was so good, so long lasting, that I almost thought it was real. But now, at long last, I know where I am, which is pretty much alone, but stronger for it. Perhaps I should start at the beginning..........

I have never had an easy relationship with my step father. I think I have mentioned it before. I can’t remember warming to him, even when we first met, but I can remember not trusting him, right from the start. There was a sense of unease at the beginning, even without any justification for that feeling.

When I was 12 years old he formally adopted me.

I took his name.

I became his.

During the adoption process, I can remember talking to, who I can only think now must have been, a social worker about the whole idea of being adopted. Even in those days ‘They’, the authorities, kept the child in mind. I can remember someone asking if I agreed to all the arrangements, if I actually wanted to be adopted. I said I did.

Can you believe that? I said I wanted to be adopted even though, with all my being, I knew it was the last thing I really wanted to happen. And do you know why I agreed to it? Because I knew it would please my mother, I knew that that was what she wanted. I agreed and I was adopted. And that was that.

I think I knew what the future held even then. To go into details here would be wrong, difficult to write and totally unnecessary. Suffice to say that, in true stepfather style, he stepped over the decent limit of what is natural and good. I stopped him, it wasn't that bad but it happened and consequently I was caught, we were both caught, in a web of lies and blackmail that has lasted all this time. Until tonight. Tonight I finally found out where I stand with him and my mother knows so much more. I am worried for her. I should not have told.

I'm not sure this makes sense, but I will write more another time.