Tuesday, 5 March 2013

Dear Alex, Refocus my gaze

5th March 2013


Dear Alex,


When there's nothing left, you've reached the end, when you feel there's no further down you can go, you've hit rock bottom. The only thing I can find to do is shut my eyes tight and start counting out, naming, singling out each and every one of my beautiful moments and incredible blessings.

I'm taking a week to stop looking, stop the output, pushing all the time. It's this that has been stifling me. I know it's circumstantial, I don't blame myself for searching and trying everything desperately for a house, a solution to the untenable situation. Neither am I giving up. But it's been affecting the kids, me.

I told Monty this morning I was stopping looking for a solution for a while, taking some mental time out and focussing my gaze on God, giving thanks and praise and revelling in the beauty of creation and of the tiny insignificant everyday blessings. These add up and stack and if I keep counting I will soon have the balance back, refocus my gaze. He gets it, Monty does, he chats very openly and maturely about things. Lola listens and asks questions, Mitzi listens well too and always says her thing to be grateful to God for is food and doing the splits...!

It's felt bleak and desperate and I've woken up and not wanted to be a part of my. Life and that's not right!

So I have to change something, so I am veering my gaze, swapping where I am looking and what I'm looking at, writing it all down all those moments worth living for;

Kids' giggles.

Toothless smiles and dirty nails.

Being blessed enough to be called 'mummy' four times over.

Blackbird's call in the morning.

Morning walk to school with four kids able to walk alongside me and their busy chatter at the beginning of a new day.

Hot cup of tea and kettle that boils water, fridge that has milk in it.

For cupboards that have weetabix and porridge for hungry tummies in the morning.

...I keep writing, keep seeing, keep receiving the blessings thus.

I'm just sitting still.

Mentally.

Just for a while.

And giving thanks.



Me xxxxxxxxxxxx

Monday, 4 March 2013

Dear Alex, Sending you back.

4th March 2013

Dear Alex,


Backing out through the gate, too tight, there's no room for error, I bend, lift the chair up with a heave over the ledge, then continue the reverse down the alley between our house and the terrace nextdoor. You suddenly reach out, reach for the me you can't see and repeat 'I love you, I love you, I love you' and I can barely understand the words through your heaving tears.

You know you're going back, there's a million words, unable though you are to speak them, behind your 'I love you'. I see that.

And I ask you to be strong, as the taxi driver pushes you up the ramps into the vehicle to take you back. I ask you to be strong because I have to hold it together for you and the kids, Esmie starts to cry 'I want my daddy home, I don't want him to go away again'. It's confusing for her, how can she understand you going away when she, in her little 4-year-old head, just needs her daddy at home, she doesn't see why you can't be!

And you're in the taxi and you haven't stopped, you cry and cry and howl with tears. With Esmie looking through the taxi door in tears, knowing I have to send you back, the taxi driver watching on as I cuddle you and wipe your tears, my heart it pounds so hard in my chest so tight, I just can't hold it in and I break and cry and just cannot stop.

But the kids are around, and I desperately want to be strong for you and for them.

I watch the taxi pull away, cuddle the kids tight and tell them although I'm sad and crying, it helps to cry and dad is well looked after where he is and he will be back very, very soon. Lame attempts to quell their fears and worries. I certainly don't quell mine.


It's been a difficult weekend, it feels intrusive (as wonderful as the carers are) with another person in the house all the time. Monty is having a difficult time, I feel like he feels he has just lost his dad, and my heart aches, just aches for him. There's no room in the house, the whole of downstairs being taken up with your equipment, 3 adults, 4 kids there's just no space to move! It makes me feel claustrophobic, but I can't get out, well, not easily, it's too much of an effort, such hard work and when I have one of the kids or another waking me several times in the night and the extra washing with you there (sheets and clothes) extra cooking extra cleaning... I've no energy to get out.

I know, at least I have you home, I really am not saying that, it's just different and there's so much more to deal with than I ever thought.

I'm having a week off from trying to resolve the unresolvable, a week off from frantically trying to find a solution to the house. It's sending me over the edge, too much, too unending, too fraught, I need to put myself back just thinking about the kids and you for a while, they need me not to be so distracted by desperation, you need the strong, carrying it all me. I have to shut it out, if only for a while. I just cannot deal with it, I'm wrought and wrung dry by it all and I'm hurting right now, as I feel the pain for everyone, you, Monty, the girls, me...And I can't resolve it, I can't bring my family back together again.

I'm up to see you first thing after dropping the kids at school. I love you and I know to have so much more to say to me than you can...


Me xxxxxx


Sunday, 3 March 2013

Dear Alex, Beautiful Moments.

3rd March 2013


Dear Alex,

Hitting rock bottom, I struggle yesterday to breathe, to smile, chest tight and tortured. A house, a house, a house, how to get a house. It is all that pollutes my mind, all I can think of.

Yet I know I can't carry this on, can't be this way round the kids and I have you just for the weekend, so I know our time ticks on, ticks away and I have to be all there for you and the kids.

I lie in bed this morning determined to rise above my sinking heart and knotted mess in the pit of my stomach.

The parts I thought I'd write tonight are the parts where I stood, breathed air and thanked the Most High for...

Mitzi and Esmie onesies and school shoes on playing happily at 'there's a zombie in the garden'. I watch out of the kitchen window as they laugh together, run together and it's early morning and they are outside and happy. Thank God for healthy beautiful girls full of imagination and play.

Overhearing Monty playing with his lego. There's lego spilling out of almost every corner in the house, it drives me potty, but I love the fact he loves his lego, the battles he sets up, the intricate ships he builds. I'd never have it any other way.

Lola gets herself dressed and colour coordinates, purple, red and a blue jumper, and yes she does look beautiful and well done for choosing such a colourful outfit! She's making things in her room, loving the fact her sisters aren't around to steal her glue or pens, revelling in her creative alone time mode.

Esmie who swims in the bath at 1pm, just because she wants to and when she gets out wants to paint my face. Who paints her dad's face and later sneaks off to paint the wall and radiator...

Mitzi doing handstands in her bed when she is supposed to be asleep...

Alex coming to life when a Red Hot Chilli Pepper's song comes on! Just like before when he'd bounce around, throw the kids around and make us all chorus 'stop!' only now he dances uncoordinatedly and sofa bound...

I wanted to write them all, all written, and there were so many more. To focus on such blessings to get me through the impossible times.

Orange pink sunset glows as I wheel out the bins. Alex sings to Bob Marley and I am about to get the kids snuggled up, storied up and milk drinks. I pray.

...Thank you for all I do have, my priceless blessings, bountiful and beautiful. Thank you I have my family together this weekend. For the people who have been sent to make my days lighter and evenings less lonely. May my dream of living all together become a reality soon...

And I will keep on praying.


Me xxxxxxx