I want to vent. I want to rage.
Why the fuck am I in this situation?
I tried to buy my husband a Fathers Day card from the kids and ended up completely triggered thinking about my own Dad:
“Dad you’re my hero”
“Best dad in the world”
And my favourite, “Dad without you I’d be screwed” (obviously with picture of father and offspring screw haha). Yeah that one really got under my skin because yes, Dad, without you I was screwed. Left to deal with the venomous malicious unpredictable entity called Mum. And look! Over 2 decades later I’m still screwed, totally fucking screwed. So screwed I’m nuts. It is with cruel irony that right now my own husband is away in Manchester overnight, one of the places my Dad used to go when he was away on ‘overnighters’.
So here I am triggered by cards and triggered by the stupid PTSD of being left alone to care for ‘the children’ – sorry, obviously I mean my siblings as I was a child too. How silly of me to forget. How silly of everyone to forget.
I’m not a child now though. I’m an adult and a mother and it is absolutely my responsibility to care for my children. I can’t describe the loathing I feel for myself that I struggle to do this most basic thing. I dropped my daughter off at nursery this afternoon and when I arrived home I opened the front door, threw my keys down, glanced at the staircase in front of me and thought ‘right, now go and hang yourself’. It was as solid and unremarkable an idea as say ‘right, let’s put a washing on’. Clearly I have not hung myself nor do I intend to but it’s difficult managing with such urges.
I try and stifle all the rage that burns, bubbles and boils inside me. The pressure builds with every demand and the poison leaks out. I snap and snarl and hate myself for doing so. No. I must never hurt the children, must never ever be cruel to them. The slightest look of upset on their faces cuts me so deeply and the rage is accompanied by shame. More shame, like I need anymore of that?!
And all I can think is how fucking useless I am. I will try to atone by doing lots of housework and being ‘good’. I feel a bit jealous of the kids, they get to go to bed and be away from me whereas I’m stuck with me. I’m so tired. And confused. And afraid; the fear of a little girl in a grown up lady’s body.
I never managed to buy a card.