I need to be somewhere I can let rip, break and smash things, and above all just SCREAM and CRY and throw things that will land with a satisfying S*M*A*S*H as they shatter into eleventy hundred pieces. I need to be somewhere where it doesn’t matter if I look like crap with tears streaming down my face, where it doesn’t matter if I can’t be bothered to get dressed or brush my hair and where nobody knows me … well apart from my friend Lou. I need her to be there. She and I haven’t known each other that long really, but she tells me the truth – not just what she thinks I might want to hear.
Nowhere is sacred right now. It used to be that work was my escape from the daily monotony, and then the twenty minutes I had before picking the kids up from school once I got in from work was always such bliss! I’d have enough time to watch a bit of Jeremey Kyle (just to prove my life isn’t as bad as theirs because at least I know who the father of my kids is!) and have a cup of coffee in solitude before the masses descended on me!
I don’t get out of the house often enough to have a real “social life.” I have friends sure, but their lives are just as busy as mine, and to be truthful, even if I take a day off work… I don’t ever feel like I achieve anything at all because I always have too much to do.
The bath used to be a sanctuary too … but far too often H will knock on the door and ask “mind if I come in for a pee?” despite me checking prior to running the bath whether anybody needed to use the toilet.
“YES I F***ING MIND, GET OUT!” – Sanctuary ruined and cue soggy exit from bath.
Plus today finances took a dire turn for the worst. I can’t go into too much detail, but lets say cash flow has been a huge HUGE enormous problem thanks to middle men not doing their frigging jobs so I can’t do mine. That’s all I can say without going into a huge enormous rant here and getting into too much detail.
I am worried. I’m worried sick that it is all about to come falling down around my ears and that there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
I just hope that my children learn from my mistakes and don’t make the same ones I did. My Dad was a fantastic role model as I was growing up. He was a solid family man and a good provider – what every guy strives to achieve, right? What I missed out on from him though was quality time and hearing the words “I love you”
I KNEW I was loved, don’t get me wrong, and mum said it often enough for the two of them, but I never realised it until after he was gone. One thing I try so hard to give my kids is love. No matter what … no matter how bad it gets at home or how hard it is … they will always know they are loved.
