Hope in the strangest of places.

Yesterday was a tough day. Firstly I had to attend court, another direction hearing in relation to my 9yo seeing her biological father. He had prepared a document that accused me of some terrible things. After reading it, I thought that woman sounded awful, poor man! But none of it was true, especially not the part where he said he once heard me giving his brother a, and I quote ‘blow job’ while he was putting our sons to bed! Who knew blow job was a recognised legal term? And sadly, the accusation is untrue, although his brother used to be very handsome. I bet he had a really big pe…… anyway, where was I?

So we sat there, and I listened to his drivel as the judge tried to find some middle ground. Apparently my 1st ex husband is nervous around me. Yes, only because  you know if I opened my mouth and said the awful things you did to me, your ladyfriend would stop bankrolling you. I kept my dignity, rolled my eyes a few times. Thankfully, the judge rolled them back. All I have ever wanted is an amicable solution to all this. But his vitriolic outbursts made me think it would never be.

But then, as I left the court room, his partner approached me and said she had gifts. I thought she meant for J, but presented me with a package and asked me to open it. Inside were two beautiful photo frames. One had a picture of my boys, taken on Mother’s day, “so I know they are thinking of me when I look at the picture”. I thanked her, and I was genuine in my gratitude. We smiled at each other, and I felt perhaps there was hope that this could work out. I will never forgive all the lies and the hurt he has caused my children. But bitterness can drive you to do irrational things. Plus, his lady friend has only believed the lies he has told her, and why shouldn’t she? Why would she doubt the man she loves? From the picture he has painted, I don’t like the sound of me either. She is perhaps just protecting ‘her’ family, and I am happy she feels so strongly.

Then when I returned home, I had an interesting conversation with my ‘husband’. He informed me he has filed for divorce and all his family believe me to be the vilest woman to ever exist. His mother has apparently apportioned all blame to me. Let her think that, I know the truth. I have spent to much of my life making excuses and trying to justify myself. I am not going to get into the whys and wherefores as to why my marriage finally ended, but suffice to say it started to take an all familiar route and I promised myself I would never allow that to happen again. He shouted at me, I cried. He cried, I cried some more. But then we started talking, something we hadn’t done for a very long time. We both decided us separating is the best option, for us both.

We continued to talk this morning, and things are going to be ok. They will be hard, for all of us, and I know there will still be disagreements. But I have hope now that we can be amicable. We just weren’t right for each other, sad but true. With two different people will will be much better people. Then we did something we haven’t done together for a very long time……we laughed. And it felt good.

So I actually feel something I haven’t felt for as long as I can remember…….hope. Hope that the future will work out and be OK. I know it will not be ideal, but it will be good. And after so many years of feeling hopeless, it will do for me.

Now all I need is a man with his own chocolate factory and a huge pe……….sorry, drifted off there.

Just because…….

Just because I’m very trusting, please don’t take me for a fool.

Just because I am forgiving doesn’t mean you can be cruel.

Just because I have been hurt doesn’t mean that I’m now tough.

Just because I keep on going, I often feel I’ve had enough.

Just because I’ve failed at love, it doesn’t mean I have no hope.

Just because I sometimes struggle, it doesn’t mean I cannot cope.

Just because I’m gullible, it doesn’t mean that I’m naive.

Just because my faith is tested, it doesn’t mean I don’t believe.

Just because I’m sometimes lonely, doesn’t mean I’m desperate.

Just because I keep my temper, doesn’t mean I’m not irate.

Just because I have no soul mate doesn’t mean I won’t stop looking.

Just because I’m on the shelf, it doesn’t mean I don’t need f………riendship.

Just because you think I’m worthless doesn’t mean that it is so,

Just because you didn’t love me, is why you have to let me go.

Just because I’m starting over, doesn’t mean that I am finished.

Just because you let me down, doesn’t mean my trust’s diminished.

Just because I am alone now, doesn’t mean that I am bitter.

Just because I’ve given up on you, by no means I’m a quitter.

Just because I am still standing proves that I am very strong.

Just because I do not love you, means it’s you who got it wrong.

Just because you see me crying, it doesn’t mean it’s over you.

Just because you think you know me, doesn’t mean you have a clue.

Just because this door is closing, doesn’t mean my life is done.

A happy one is starting, just because you are now gone.

 

Wanted: Male, GSOH, NS, BLT, YMCA.

I have spent a lot of time recently discussing with friends, just what it is I would like from a partner type person. Not that I am in any rush to find one, if at all. But these are the qualities I would like, should the opportunity arise. I have chosen to present them in the style of the Banks children off of Mary Poppins, when voicing their requirements for a nanny.

I’d like to find someone not offensive or rude,

Who makes not a sound when they’re chewing food.

He has to be friendly, not overly flirty.

Have patience with me, and seldom get shirty.

Be open and honest, the truth is a must.

Want me for me and not just my bust.

Love all my babies as if they were his own,

Give me a cuddle if I start to moan.

Laugh without prompting at my terrible jokes.

I don’t want drug takers or someone who smokes.

Have twinkling eyes and a genuine smile,

Make me believe that perhaps I’m worthwhile.

Laugh all the time, and like to be silly,

Have lovely strong arms, and above average….I.Q.

Be a cross between John Barrowman and Gene Hunt

Seldom use swear words especially c**t.

Cuddle me often and hold me all night.

Have the courage to own up when not in the right.

Like holding hands when we are out walking.

Stay in bed all day and up all night talking.

Stroke my hair and take hold of my face,

Before kissing me gently, any time, any place.

Always smell lovely, have no facial hair.

Not be ashamed to cry or show that he care.

Have some stability,  a career not  a job.

Love Peter Kay and of course, Vic and Bob.

So if you are out there please make yourself known.

I have spent too much of my life being alone.

I don’t want too much, just someone who’s mine,

Who likes ugly fat birds soon to be thirty nine.

If you know of anyone who fits this description please let me know

Flups Vs Twonk

Today, I have to go to court. I have to sit and listen to my first ex husband spout so much crap, he would make a former News Of The World Journalist feel appalled. I have to sit close to a ‘man’ who thought it acceptable to give me a good slap. I am not looking forward to it.

But, I know I have nothing to hide. From the start, he and his ‘ladyfriend’ have lied about me. I have truth on my side. They have both said some very derogatory remarks about me to anyone who will listen, I have remained silent. My solicitor knows everything and I just hope that justice will be on my side.

The purpose of this hearing is to try and get joint custody of my beautiful eldest daughter. My ex and his ‘lady’ friend are both so consumed with revenge towards me and bitterness, that they have not once stopped to think about the impact all this is having on my daughter. She has had to be interviewed by court welfare officers, social services, cope with everything she knew being turned upside down. She is torn because she doesn’t want to seem disloyal to her Mom, yet is curious to meet him. I have said whatever she decides, I will love and support her. I am so proud of the way she has handled all this, and it is because of how I have raised her.

And that is what keeps me strong, knowing I am not all they say I am. I am many things and far from perfect, but my babies are my everything, and proof I can get something right.

So wish me luck. I feel as if I am about to appear on Gladiators, battling  two of the deadliest; Twatty and Menopausal! I know where I would like to stick one of those giant cotton buds!

What’s Love Got To Do With It?

Well, tomorrow will be the first valentine’s day I have been single for 20 years. But to be honest, it will be easier because I have no expectations, I won’t spend the whole day waiting for some overblown gesture to prove that I was actually loved, that never materialised. This year, my heart is safe.

I have always gone over the top on Valentine’s day. I am someone who wears their heart on their sleeve, if I feel it, I say it. So it was never a case of making a bit of an effort one day a year, to get me off the hook the rest of the time. I just went that little bit further on February 14th, I suppose in the hope that it may be reciprocated. It never was.

So is Valentine’s day a good thing or a bad thing? How many people will be panicking today thinking “Bugger, I had better get Mildred a box of cut price Maldi chocolates, otherwise I won’t hear the last of it.’? How many people actually buy a gift due to love, not because of pressure to do so, for fear of reprisal and animosity from the other half if they don’t?

Love isn’t a one day event, it is for always and forever. You shouldn’t tell your partner that you love them because society and a date on the calender tell you to. You should say it because you see her stood at the sink, see her hair fall onto her shoulders and feel compelled to tell her how wonderful you think she is. And because you see him asleep on the sofa with your baby in his arms and glow at the thought of how much you worship him. If you are reading this, stop and tell the love of your life that they are your world. Life is too short not too.

So this year, I am safe from upset and hurt, because there is no one around to let me down. Although I will be expecting a little something from Mr Buble.

 

Just to clarify.

After my last waffly blog, the point was raised as to why my sons live with my 1st ex husband, if he is such an awful man. This is a question I have been asked before by friends, relatives etc, so I will try to explain….

As I have previously illustrated, my ex husband was not the most pleasant of men. He said if I ever left him, he would ensure I lost the children. When he left, he asked to have my boys overnight, and simply didn’t bring them back. What could I do? I couldn’t drive, he emptied the bank account and left me with nothing. He stopped paying the mortgage too, so I had to move away and stay in a house that my friend was renovating. When I got a job a few months later, I could afford a solicitor. I went every week, detailing past events, detirmined to get my boys back, no matter what it cost.

But six months down the line, and at the point where we were about to go to court, it was pointed out to me, that if the boys said they didn’t want to see me, it was game over and there was nothing I could do. If I pushed the issue, I would end up with unhappy, resentful children, and my boys had been through enough. So I stopped fighting. I told them simply that the day they change their minds, and want to live with me, even if I had no way of getting to them, I would walk to get them.

It was the toughest decision I have ever made. Not a day goes by when I don’t feel a dull ache in my heart. But I had to put them first.

Now I would like to point out that although my ex has filled my boys head with spiteful lies about me, he has never been physically abusive to them. The first time he touches a hair on their perfect heads, his feet will not touch the ground. Now it has come to the point of going to court, everything he has said to my boys is now having to be answered and accounted for by him. He is not clever enough to remember all his lies, and has already tripped himself up many times. I am remaining quiet on the subject, have never retaliated to his vitriol. And as they say, all good things come to those who wait….

As for my daughter, I know he will get his wish and get to see her. But the first time he says anything derogatory about me, he won’t see her again, I am not having him do that to my daughter too. Thankfully my boys are now realising their father has been lying to them. The resentment they are now feeling for him is something he will have to live with forever, and it is me who is picking up the pieces.

One point I wish to make, is that in six and a half years, he has not once asked to see my daughter. Nothing. And now he has decided he wants to come walking back into her life. If I thought it was for positive reasons, I would not be contesting this. But it has become about getting the last word, finishing his threat of getting my children. His motives are not to make my daughter’s life happier, it is about making mine unhappy. I have said to my daughter that the decision has to come from her, nobody else, and I will love and support her no matter what. He is continuing to say terrible things about me to my boys (I spoke to them both last night), saying I had better conform! If I thought he would be a positive influence on my beautiful girl, he could see her today. But he will try to spout his venom at her too. However, I have every faith that he will shoot himself in the foot if he starts, as my daughter is very bright, and very protective of me.

I hope this has cleared a few things up x

A fight I won’t lose.

Well, it has happened. The moment I have dreaded for the last seven years has arrived, and is as welcome as Boris Johnson at a swingers party. My first waffly blog detailed my first marriage and how it ended. You may also know that he continually threatened that I would lose my beautiful children if I left him. He carried it out, and I lost my boys. But he didn’t get my gorgeous daughter, who was just two at the time. I tried to keep it amicable despite everything when he first left, but he made things very difficult. Then he stopped asking to see her. That was six and a half years ago. No requests to see her, no offer of contributing to her upbringing, no birthday gifts. Not once has he asked how she was doing at school, or wanted to see her perform at a dance show. Nothing.

But now he has found himself a ‘ladyfriend’. I am not too sure why he is interested in a woman who is well off and owns a six bedroomed house. I am sure it can’t be anything other than love. My eldest son has told me that his version of how our marriage was is slightly different to mine. I apparently went out partying every night, having affairs whilst he brought up the children. Sounds like fun, but unfortunately non of it is true. His ‘ladyfriend’ (for the purpose of this blog, shall from now on be referred to as Cruella) has brought every word. Now, I can’t blame her for that, when you love someone you believe everything they say, and she has no reason to disbelieve him. But, she has continually tried to alienate my boys further by telling them that it is about time they woke up and realised what sort of a woman their mother is. She has been with my ex for eighteen months, we have never spoken, yet she thinks she has the right to try and destroy the relationship I have with my boys.

My ex husband systematically abused me for almost thirteen years. He raped me when I was breastfeeding my daughter, leaving his calling card up my back. He smashed a glass over my head, told me he would carve the word ‘slag’ so deep into my forehead it would scar if I ever left, tried to strangle me. I kept a hammer under the sofa, where I slept, and a cupboard against the door so he couldn’t get to me. I kept all this to myself, I was ashamed, blamed myself. If I was a better wife, it wouldn’t happen. But it did, continually. He had affairs, flaunted the fact. I would often hear him talking to them on the phone in the middle of the night, I felt humiliated and the most unattractive woman in the world. I became numb, but despite me not loving him, I felt devastated that he could do this to me, that I was that worthless. Yet here he is, telling anyone who will listen that I was the one who took advantage, that is was he who was humiliated by me. He and Cruella have also told these lies to my boys, the most spiteful thing he has done. Luckily, my eldest doesn’t believe it, but my youngest son was only six, and has bought into it. However, it would now appear that he has realised that his father has been lying, so I have hope once again.

A week before my crash in November, I returned home from work and was welcomed by an official looking white envelope. I opened it and found a letter from the court stating I had to appear the next week. It also detailed court orders already in place. You see, it would appear this had been going on since March 2011, unbeknown to me. The court had ordered that my daughter be given letters, sent from her biological father to her headmaster, every two weeks. So he knew where we lived????? I had taken every step possible to ensure that he didn’t know my address given that he always threatened to finish the job, should I ever leave. Now, at this point you may be asking yourself the question, if he didn’t know where I lived, how could he ask to see my daughter. Well, he works five minutes round the corner from my parents, and knows where they live. If he had wanted to see her, he would have made an effort to. Anyway, I received this letter on a Saturday, I had no way of contacting anyone regarding this matter before Monday. Panic set in, he was going to carry out his threat, and get my baby girl too.

I collected myself together, and come Monday, I spoke to my solicitor and arranged for her to attend with me. I then called my daughter’s headmaster.. He said he had to speak to her that afternoon. I pleaded with him to just wait until Tuesday, give me a chance to talk to her myself, but he said he couldn’t. I felt sick, what on earth would go through her mind, she would be devastated. While I have never kept it a secret, her father was seldom discussed. I went to collect her from school, bracing myself for an emotional girl with lots of questions. But she bounded up to my car all smiles. I asked her if her headmaster had spoken to her and she said yes. I asked if she was ok, she said ‘Of course I am’ and smiled. I should never have doubted her, she is a wonderful young lady, and I am so proud of her. We had a good chat once we got home, and I explained what was going to happen. I told her that I will support her whatever she decides, and the decision has to be what she wants, nobody else.

Two days before my court date, I had my car accident. I still went, despite being in pain. My friend and rock Bernadette came with me. My solicitor showed me all the paperwork, all the nasty lies and allegations made by my ex husband. He even stooped so low as to say I had told my boys he sexually abused my daughter. Even for him, that is pretty low. I walked into the court room, and as soon as I felt him walking behind me, I started to shake. My solicitor clung to my hand as I took my seat. Cruella came in with him, she was his Mackenzie friend, which I take to mean nosy bitch. It was proved that despite him telling the court that I knew all about the previous court hearings and was just refusing to attend,  all correspondence was being sent to the wrong address. The judge smiled at me, and said that everything that had gone before was to be disregarded. My ex continued to sprout utter bollocks, I remained composed. The judge was fantastic and referred it to CafCass, the court child welfare, with a view to going back to court in February.

Since that court hearing, I have seen and spoken to my eldest baby boy a few times. He has told me that Cruella is obsessed with me and Googles me frequently! I suppose I should be flattered, although I am not sure what she thinks she will find! She has even printed out pictures of my house! After hearing of my accident, she told my boys that she thinks I just punched a wall to gain sympathy! She said moments after my sons had just found out about my crash and were quite distressed. No words of comfort from their father either, just a terse ‘She looked ok to me’. I have also found out that this woman has told my boys that I raped their father. Whys and hows aside, to say that to a thirteen year old boy is disgusting. I apparently used to go out every night, get drunk and if I couldn’t find someone to have sex with, I would go back and sexually abuse him. I laughed hysterically when I was told, but it really isn’t funny. These are people who want to spend time with my beautiful, innocent nine year old daughter, you can see my concern.

So last week, I spent two hours telling the lovely lady from cafcass everything that happened in my marriage and up to present day, giving exact dates. I felt as if I was in the wrong, having to prove my love for my children. She then wanted to talk to my baby. I could see she was nervous, despite smiling. It was as if she was supporting me, reassuring me that everything would be ok. I so wanted her to say she didn’t want to see him, but that has to be her decision. She said she would think about seeing him.

Tomorrow, my daughter has a ‘wishes and feelings’ meeting with cafcass. I am not involved, and I am nervous. Every inch of me is screaming ‘please say no’. But am I doing it for selfish reasons? My daughter is so funny, smart, caring and innocent. If I thought these people would be a positive influence on her, I wouldn’t have a problem. But they seem hell bent on making me the villain, and I worry they will destroy how close we are, just like he did with my boys. But I should give her more credit, she is not easily bought.

So there you go. Life is still as stressful as always. I am not sure how I would cope if the stress ever stopped. All I know is that I will not go down without a fight.

Mushy New Year.

It is 2:02pm on 31st December 2011. Only another nine hours and fifty eight minutes left of 2011. Today is a day synonymous with reflecting on the past twelve months, musing over missed chances and opportunities, smiling over the moments that gave us pleasure and hoping that the next year will be the year we win the lottery/heart of our unrequited love/The X Factor. So have we all learnt something from 2011? Or has it been a wasted 12 months? Have you achieved everything you said you would on 1st January, or were all resolutions discarded by 2nd? Will you do the same tonight? Vow to lose 15 stone by March, and give up your addiction to Cilit Bang? I know I will, in between getting very drunk on Bacardi, and dreading that first Big Ben bong, as it always feels such a dark moment. The realisation that another twelve months of my life has passed, where I have achieved very little and am still not married to John Barrowman. BUT…and it is a big but, although I have now joined the gym, and hope to make it a slightly smaller, I would like to take this time to focus on the good things that 2011 have given me.

If you have read my previous waffly blogs, you will know my background. I had a ‘slight’ breakdown in July this year, a result of it all becoming a bit too much, and my ‘soldiering on’ coming to an abrupt halt. My Dr prescribed me anti depressants, something I will never be ashamed to admit to. All they are are a sticking plaster, helping me to heal and become me again. Anyway, I am glad it happened, I am glad my insanity came to a head. If I had carried on suppressing it, I think I would now be a permanent resident in The Priory. But I am now well and I am finally finding me again, which is fantastic as the real Michelle has been hidden for far too long.

But, although my ‘mind plasters’ are helping, I attribute most of my current state to Twitter. Those in my life who do not know what Twitter entails, look at me as if I am some sad nerd, being groomed on internet chat sites by people who want to eat houmous from my lady garden before sacrificing me to Simon Cowell. I will always defend Twitter, it has been my saviour. Because without it, I wouldn’t have the wonderful people in my life I have. People I would never have met otherwise, people from all walks of life. I know that there are those on Twitter who only let you see what they want you to, who have a persona on the timeline. But I speak to some privately, and they are genuinely fantastic people. Some are as lost as I am, but we are there for each other, and we know that. And it helps. So I don’t care if people are cynical, there are those who are always ready to voice an opinion on things they know nothing about, yet are never interested in actually finding out about it. It is nice to see judgementalism is alive and well. Is Judgementalism a word? Well, it is now.

My lovely work chums and I were discussing yesterday the highs and lows of last year. The general opinion was that my low point would be my car accident. But strangely it wasn’t. My accident has been quite cathartic, as I have had to look at my life long and hard. I have realised how quickly life could be taken away from you, and that life is too short to be unhappy. It has also taught me never to leave the house with any ill feeling towards anyone, as you never know what will happen when you step outside your front door. I have always kissed those I love before I leave them, but now I kiss them, hug them and tell them that I love them. I also tell those I love to drive carefully as they get in their car. It may seem silly, but it gives me peace, and at the moment I need it. So in a perverse way, I am glad my accident happened, as it has given me some of my fight back, and I am determined to be happy and grab life by it’s testicles with both hands. In case you wondered what my answer was to the low point, it was that 2011 was the year I stopped loving my Husband.

The saying ‘Every cloud has a silver lining’ is true. I try to see the positive in everything. I have had two disastrous marriages, being married to men who abused me and didn’t love me. But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have my beautiful babies or be the person I am today. I had to have treatment for pre cancerous cells, but it has cured me of my hospital phobia. My car accident has made me more at peace with myself, and has perhaps prevented a more serious accident happening further down the line. I have my children, a fantastic job working with fantastic people who are friends as well as colleagues, I have my health and I have you lot.

So I want to thank you for everything. Thank you for being my shoulder, for listening to my whining. For making me laugh so hard I have cried, for making me cry with your words of kindness. For being in my life when I needed you the most, and for being the best friends ever. Thank you, I wish each and every one of you love, luck and happiness for 2012.

Before I go, I want to take a minute to thank some very special people in my life. Bernadette, Lotty, Kath, Andy, Martin, Keith, Michael, David, Simon, Charlotte, Alan, Neil, Ian, Steve. These people have been especially supportive over the last six months and have suffered my continual whinging. But they have stood by me, and have helped me more than they will ever know. So thank you for being in my life, I can never repay you for all you have done. I love you all, you bunch of lovelies.

Happy New Year. Make the most of each and every day, and remember, you can be what ever you want to be x

My review of the year.

Hello. I have been told by many lately that I have a way with words (perhaps they are trying to say I talk to much), so as I int not wrote nuffink for a bit, I fought I would write about what has been my year so far.

January 2011.

Rubbish month. Took down the Christmas tree, which I hate doing, unless I find a hidden chocolate decoration. Mind you, even if I do, my children wrestle me to the ground for it. Usual feeling of doom as the thought of another twelve months of tedium fills me with despair. I decide this is the year I will make changes, after all I will be 25 *ahem* in March. Had a colposcopy due to having an abnormal smear. The consultant donned a miner’s helmet to look up my nethers. After finding the lost tribe of the Incas and Shergar up there, he proceeded to take several biopsies. I was a little shaken by this, but luckily I had my Mom with me for support. My husband refused to come with me, because he had fallen out with me. The reason being, I had dared to get upset at him throwing a cup of milk at me and calling me a ‘useless, lazy fat bitch’. I can see his point, there is no point crying over spilt milk. Oh, was also my wedding anniversary. I made my Husband a cake, and bought him lots of gifts. I got a “Shit, was that today? Sorry, I forgot.”

February 2011.

A short month. Why is it everyone says how fast February goes, it is only 2/3 days shorter than other months. So, Valentines day, I had the most beautiful card ever. Not from my Husband, but from my children. My husband said Valentines day is just a ploy by advertisers, and if he bought me a card, he would be saying that it is ok to treat me like crap for the rest of the year if he buys me a card. Far cheaper for him to treat me like crap for the rest of the year without spending 59p in Costcutters on a card. I can again see his point. Had the results of my biopsies after weeks looking out for the postman. So much so he had taken to winking at me as he thought I had a crush on him. No disrespect, but he looks like Mick Hucknall. Anyway, turns out I am not dying, but do have to have some treatment to remove the offending cells.

March 2011

My birthday month. Felt a little old being *25, but was lavished with a gift off my husband, which was some beautiful perfume I had bought myself. I was allowed to go to my parents for tea, which involved sausages on sticks at my request. Well, my Mom gave me a box of Sainsburys cocktail sausages and some cocktail sticks and told me to knock myself out. My children made me a beautiful card, and sellotaped a flower to it. I cried. I went for my treatment. The consultant was a lovely man, would be right at home as the resident Doctor in ‘Where The Heart Is’. He said ‘You have a mirena (coil)?’. I thought he said ‘Marina’ as in the car, and so answered ‘No, I have a Megane.’ It broke the ice and we chatted happily while he ‘shaved my kebab’ (removed the offending cells). Two weeks later I received a letter saying my treatment had been successful. I spent months waiting for the phone to ring, to be told that I had been given the wrong results, and had actually died three weeks ago, could I please fall over. *(+13)

April 2011.

Easter. I ate too much chocolate, well, I had to check my children’s eggs are safe for consumption, as all good Mothers do. I erected a rockery in my garden, or a communal cat toilet as it later became. I got emotional watching Kate and Wills Marry, fell a little bit in love with Harry, and hoped that Pippa Middleton didn’t sneeze and wet herself in that dress, as she obviously wasn’t wearing any pants, ergo, no Tena lady. I sat and wished that I had someone who looked at me as Wills did Kate. I mused about how lovely the wedding was to my Husband, he retorted ‘You were just an experiment that went horribly wrong.’ I sobbed myself to sleep.

May 2011

My eldest daughter’s 9th birthday. She was totally spoilt by everyone. I looked at her and felt proud that I was the Mother of this beautiful girl. I told her I remembered my 9th birthday, and that I had a bag in the shape of a coke can, a peach t-shirt, a 7″ of ‘It Ain’t What You Do (It Is Indeed The Way In which You Do It) by Fun Boy Three and Bananananarama. I was half way through my tale about how I went to my first disco and me and my best friend wowed our friends with a stunning dance routine to ‘Land Of Make Believe’, which I still know, when I realised she had buggered off and was eating a piece of cake. This was also the month I realised my marriage was over, due to my Husband saying he hated me and asking with bile ‘Just what is the point of you?’ I am yet to answer him on that one. This was also the month I discovered Twitter.

June 2011.

My Mom’s birthday. Took her out for a meal, where she ‘couldn’t really eat much’. After finishing a huge piece of fudge cake and ice cream, she came back to my house, where she regaled us with tales of how my Father had ‘Had her in some bushes’. I went in search of mind bleach before going to bed mentally scarred at the image of my parents knocking a round off in a privet hedge.

July 2011

School breaks up for six weeks of fun and frolics. I have a minor breakdown. Really.

August 2011.

My happy pills start to kick in and I start to feel human again. I meet my bestest friend Bernadette, and we had the greatest afternoon, eating the fattest chips in the whole word, getting bladdered on red wine and ripping the piss out of a girl in a summer dress, furry boots, and a sun hat with the shop display hanging hook still attached. I love Bernadette. She is one of a handful of angels I have in my life.

September 2011

My sons (details in previous blog) move away to Norwich. My heart breaks, which was reassuring as I thought there was no more of it left to break. My middle billy goat started full time school. Her first day, and she managed to escape. After a frantic search, they found her painting a picture in a year one classroom. I tell my Husband I want a divorce, he accuses me of having an affair, I move into the spare room.

October 20ll.

I am reintroduced into the community when I get a fantastic job in a major retailing outlet. I start to become me again, people start to refer to me by my first name and speak to me as if I matter. I find that I am very good at my job, and start to take an interest in myself once more. I also discover Biscester village thanks to another of my angels, Andy, and fall in love with a Ted Baker purse. I actually stood stroking said item before purchasing, the shop assistant said most people do it. I develop a worrying addiction to Crème Brulee lattes and almond croissants. I get a brand new posh Alfa Romeo Mito, and have no idea what 80% of the pretty knobs actually do. I manage to just about work out the windscreen wipers. My Mother in law’s birthday and a meal is organised, my Husband neglects to tell me. Her birthday is 31st October. I am saying nothing.

November 2011

Work goes really well. I get a ‘magic moment’ due to receiving customer compliments. My magic moments consist of a box of maltesers. I get one magic moment, my children eat the rest. Life seems to be finally working out, my confidence starts to rise, I have some amazing friends, I even join a gym. I decide in the new year that I am going to move out and start a fresh with my girls. Then something happened that changed everything. On 26th I was travelling to work. It was a beautiful sunny morning, around 8.30am. I had just got onto the A435, which is a bypass, when a fox decided to run in front of my car. I instinctively swerved, and action that had serious repercussions. I lost control of my car at 60 MPH, clipped the kerb, mounted the grass verge running along the road, and managed to roll my car, squashing a metal gate and several foot of hedge in the process. The fox went on his way unharmed, so it wasn’t all in vain. My car stopped on the drivers side. The reality sank in that I wasn’t actually dead. But then I could smell burning, and realised my car was filling with smoke. I desperately kicked at the windscreen, but it wouldn’t break. I pulled at a small hole in the windscreen, cutting my fingers deeply as I tried so hard to get it to break so I could escape. I sounded the horn with my foot and screamed ‘Help Me!!!!!’ but no one came. I sat and concluded that this was it, that I would never see my babies again. The feeling was the worst I have ever felt, a helpless, empty feeling. Completely defeated, I tried the passenger side door once more and it open. IT OPENED! I stood, blood pouring from my hands, shaking, waving frantically, mouthing ‘Help Me’. A white van approached, and drove straight past. As did several other cars. I turned around and started to sob. Then I heard someone shout ‘It’s OK sweetheart.’ A handful of wonderful people came to my aid. Soon I was being tended to by paramedics and the fire service. Police sirens were going and I was informed that the air ambulance had been on its way s they thought I was, well, not very well shall we say. I was strapped to a spinal board, just like they do on Casualty. The lovely policeman asked if I wanted him to phone anyone. I said no, I didn’t want them to worry. I went to hospital where the Dr examined my back, and fortunately the only damage that I had sustained was whiplash, soft tissue damage to my back and severe cuts to my hand. My Husband came to collect me. It was obvious that he had been crying. We hugged, perhaps this accident had made him realise that he did love me after all, and everything was going to be OK. I cried uncontrollably in his arms when I had to go in his car back home. I walked through my front door and sobbed in my Mom’s arms, who was there looking after my children. For a few days I was wrapped in cotton wool, and I felt cared for for the first time in my marriage. I had cards and flowers from concerned relatives, and it was, well nice. Two days after my accident, I had to go to court, due to my 1st ex Husband deciding after 6 years that he wants joint custody of my eldest daughter. Bernadette came with me for support. My solicitor was fantastic, and I sobbed as she showed me his ‘chronology’ of events since our separation, especially the part where it stated I physically abused my children. I have never touched a hair on their head, I am very anti smacking. Thankfully, he left with nothing. We are to reconvene in February next year, and att least I can relax over Christmas. One good thing was that ‘he’ said I could see my boys whenever I liked, in a move to ingratiate himself with the judge. This was before the judge sent him away with a flea in his ear. I reconnect with my beautiful boys, and they say they want to come and stay soon. They say things happen for a reason, perhaps my car accident was to bring those I love back into my life.

December 2011.

My middle billy goat’s 5th birthday. I cannot believe it was 5 years since I delivered her, alone on the toilet floor. She came out, looked at me as if to say ‘What?’, and she has been the same ever since. My flame haired minx is truly wonderful, all my children are. They are bright, funny, beautiful, kind and brilliant. It must be due to a regressive gene. My eldest son says he is coming to stay this month, but his Father and his ‘lady’ friend have stipulated he can only come as part of some covert exercise to unveil me as the ‘evil witch’ they say I am. They forget that despite all the crap they have filled my poor boy’s head with, he still loves his Mom, and knows the truth. Sadly, my ‘Husband’ returns to normal, and continues with his usual tirade of bitterness, telling me regularly how useless I am. It hurts, but strangely not as much as it used to, because I know I have more people in my life who think I am wonderful, than who don’t. People like Bernadette, Charlotte, Kath and Andy, who have all helped me start to be me again. If you are reading this waffle, I want to say thank you for being in my life and I love you. I return to work, I get sent home for looking like shite on a bad day. I am tired and emotional. Jar of Hearts plays on the radio and I cry like a tart. I am informed that there is going to be a gospel choir singing Christmas carols at work. I know I will be an emotional wreck.

Well there you go. I shall update when the rest of December is over and done with. I am looking forward to Christmas for the first time in years, purely and simply, because I am still around to be able to. My accident has made me realise how short, and how precious life is. Always tell those you love that they mean the world to you, live your dreams, and be happy. From now on, that is how I intend to live my life.

A hole that will never be filled.

So that is that. I have had the hardest day of my life today. Whilst driving to my parents house, where I was to meet my beautiful boys, several times I almost turned around. I thought if I didn’t see them, then in my mind, they weren’t leaving. But I kept going. The urge to hold my babies one last time was too strong.

I arrived and was greeted by Joshua, my eldest. The love I felt as I hugged him was as overwhelming as the first time I ever held him. I looked around for Harry, but couldn’t see him anywhere. It was then broken to me that he hadn’t come. I am not sure why, perhaps it was too hard for him to say goodbye. Perhaps he simply just didn’t want to. I haven’t seen him for over twelve months. It was his thirteenth birthday last month, I should have been with him, celebrating a day I had pictured a million times in my head, the day he became a teenager. But I wasn’t, the seventh birthday I couldn’t spend with him.

I spent the afternoon chatting, laughing, joking with Joshua. He told me his GCSE results; 3 A*’s, 4 A’s 2B’s and a C. He obviously has that regressive intelligence gene that seems to have skipped a generation. I have never felt prouder. Every time his eyes met mine, my heart broke a little more. I kept seeing him as a baby, minutes old, placed in my arms. I knew I would love him forever, and I will no matter what happens. The afternoon passed all too quickly, and soon the time came to say the word I had been dreading.

I kissed him, told him I loved him and hugged him hard enough to last me forever. I then handed him a St Christopher. Engraved on the back are the words ‘I am with you always’. I placed it around his neck and told him to never take it off, and that as long as he wore it, I would always be with him. I gave the one I bought for Harry to him, and told him to tell him that I love him too. He looked at me and said ‘Don’t worry Mom, I will be back in two years when I go to University’, said with such optimism, as if he was just going away for the weekend. He had no idea that the last remaining piece of my heart that was in tact was finally breaking. I wanted to scream, shout, beg him not to go. But I couldn’t put him in that position. I have lost him, both of them, I have to accept that. I then got into my car, and drove away. I cried so hard, it was if it was raining.

When I put my beautiful girls to bed tonight, I said my usual ‘Goodnight, sweet dreams, I love you’. Then once they were asleep, I went in to them, kissed them again and whispered ‘Don’t ever leave me’. I know one day they will, I just hope they will always come back to me.

So there you have it. They leave on Saturday. It is as if someone has removed part of me, it isn’t pain I feel, just a dull aching emptiness. A hole that will never be filled.