Letting go…

Christmas but comes once a year…

Trying to make it special, trying to meet psycho social, emotional, dietary,financial, needs, trying to enjoy, following my heart…

It all seems to contradict each other at the moment.

The happier I am, the more unhappy my family seem to be.

I just dont get it.

I think I just need let go. Let go of my control. Let go of my role.

Just see what happens.

If I free them maybe they won’t come back, maybe they will.

I need to let go…

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Trauma twins.

Was so great to be in the presence of a dear friend today.

We need connection so very badly. All of us. No matter how much we may love our solitary sojourns, other voices keep us tied into a wider community.

I need the affirmation she gives me. It feeds me and strengthens me.

She’s always believed that I have been abused and that Faith in my Word is more valuable than Gold.

She’s always believed that I’m a good mother and again this contradicts my ex and the ICOC church that denigrates women to pre feudal times.

She’s always been adamant that I am capable of looking after myself.

Beautiful sentiments that keep me living and breathing.

Drrrrained

Thank God I’m going out tonight. Hoping to find some positive energy to turn that down pression toward light and sun.

Winter is seeming to drain the life blood out of me.

This week feels like its put alot of us on the back foot

Days are hard and night seems to be the most inviting. Itching for unconsciousness to take me far away.

Ofsted under the brand spanking new framework put the whole school on heightened alert and tension.

Failing hot water drove me and the kids to biting one liners, filling up kettles and buckets with boiling water, incessant moaning and endless calls to the Council.

Proving I should retain child benefit that my ex is trying to take from me, find witnesses for an oncoming court case and fight for benefits that are my Right: enveloped me in mounds of hard, unsympathetic, blank, crackling, white paper – the canvass for hard evidence, I Must Find.

This is too hard.

It’s All on me.

4 hours of driving each day in a derelict car that needs daily top ups of water and oil filled me with exhausted numbness.

Couldn’t even write a blog. Couldn’t enunciate the sadness fog.

Can’t even find it in me to care if the Conservatives get in again, or look forward .. .

Broken

I am with my dear friend.

Have you ever felt like the broken you can only reveal itself in front of very special people?

I don’t even reveal this self to me.

Somehow, the honesty and realness of this connection means the painful stuff just oozes out.

I find myself behaving in strange ways that I don’t recognise…from the strong,independent, black, conscious, single mother I have been told I am.

I find myself filled with fear, a little girl, a baby sucking my thumb, I’m scared of being used, I’m scared to voice my feelings, I’m trembling to say ‘no, I don’t want this’.

Somehow, connecting with this traumatised child inside me is healing me, piece by piece.

Hearing her, holding her, accepting her is eschewing a new serenity.

Thank you Nikolas.

Free at forty…

I had the best night last night.

Just what I needed after a terrifying session at court and drowning in yet more admin around future court cases, benefits,police requests and the like.

Hanging with great people who were foot loose,fancy free and forty plus!!!

Just like me…

I must say…as a recent divorcee with children to care for, life is taking off,taking shape, taking me….

I love it.

I love picking and choosing, musing, ignoring whatever I want with no one to answer to. No muse, mentor, oppressive authority figure.

Just me and my conscience.

It’s invigorating and enlightening to learn how capable I am, with none of those voices of the past telling me how incapable I am.

It’s the best high to see my children slowly coming to life as I am too: resurrected from the religious prison we were dying in.

And it’s super special to bond with other single parents living, loving and hurtling toward our 50s.

The conversation richocheted from cows methane, to fatherly roles,to mixed race politicking, to work stress to mental health to …laughter reigned.

All over Malaysian delectable and wine. Cheers to the first of many.

Blessed bonding.

My babies…

Yes I’m proud of my achievements and of course the phenomenal contribution of my Black South African brothers to Victory…

But I just need to take a minute and remember the amazing contribution to humanity of my children…

They have been through so much as I walk this journey of abuse, depression, homelessness and recovery.

Yet they’re strength of character literally confounds me…

My daughter’s passion for trampolining humbles me. Her dedication and resolve to improve is the stuff of Great athletes.

The way she and my son care for her therapy rabbits brings out the loving, caring side that they’ve buried for years, to protect themselves in an abusive home and church.

The conscientious way my son tutors his pupil Maths and English is so inspirational. He is finding his voice and learning to speak up and that’s a massive achievement. The way he happily and enthusiastically sorts all things electronic and gadget like in the home- is a massive support as a new single mum! It’s the way he shows love.

They’re moving on and I’m so proud…

In time I hope my eldest son and I will be close again. I hope…

But We Are moving on…

Rabbit’s Christmas dinner.
My daughter’s cookies!!!!