To all desperate, depressed housewives and mothers...

Not so long ago, I was a desperate, depressed housewife.  My physical circumstances haven't changed - I still have a husband who doesn't love me and is uncommitted to our relationship and I still have two young, energetic, demanding children - but my way of looking at my life has changed.  I'm no longer a victim of my circumstances.  I like my life and have been writing a regular journal for the last year-and-a-half, recording my emotions and struggles and I've found that's helped me a lot so I decided to start writing it on-line.  I believe we women have a lot to share and that we need each other because our men can't always understand us - they don't function like us and they never will - they're not supposed to - they don't have the built-in technology to do it - not their fault - they do what they can !

9/11/09
I finally have the application form for legal help to get a divorce but I don't have the courage to fill it out.  Everything seems to be running so smoothly on the family front - it's hard to tell that we're a couple that decided to divorce earlier on this year.  Lack of finances and a steady job have kept us living together far longer that I would have liked.  Anyway, it's not me who wants to break things up - it's him who doesn't want to build a relationship with me.  He hasn't told me that he's changed his mind and he's not acting like it either .  I'll just have to persevere through the apparent "calm"  to go ahead with the divorce.  First of all I'll talk to him about it once again but not for the moment - I'm sick and so is he.  We're both very busy but things should be calmer by the end of the month when I'll have finished working and he won't yet have started his new job.  I'll look for an opportunity then to bring up the not-so-nice subject of splitting up once again.

10/11/09
I'm sick - he's sick.  I told him I wasn't well and still he comes to me while I'm lying down to ask, "Can you go down to the car (3 flights of stairs) - I forgot something in it and I can't be bothered!"  Will he ever be galant?  Will he ever get it - that I'm not some dog you get to do all your unwanted work?  Anyway, whether he'll ever get it or not - this dog has learnt to say "No!" - so I guess that means I'm not at dog status anymore.  No, I'm learning to be a lady.  "Cos you're once, twice, three times a lady... and I lo-o-ove youuuu!" Nice Lionel Richie song that's often in my head.

12/11/09
You get a little taste of Heaven as you look into the face of your child (just before you wake them up in the morning!).  Then once they're awake, that's it - back to earth!  But oh, I relish those few moments beforehand...

18/11/09 – Kids can be such examples to follow.  When it comes to reconciliation, my children always set the standard – they can't stay angry and unforgiving for very long.  Yesterday, after bringing the two boys home from school, there were quickly sparks flying between them but mostly on the part of Pipette.  He was outraged at his brother who was standing on a stool in the kitchen to get some crisps to eat from the cupboard (something he is forbidden to do!).  I was in my bedroom taking off my shoes at this stage and still in the "arriving" process – we were only thirty seconds in the door.  They know that when they arrive home, they are to take off their shoes, hang up their coats, wash their hands and put on their pyjamas.  But although these few instructions only take about five minutes maximum to carry out, they seem like an ordeal to MJ when he arrives home from his long day.  He just wants to eat and relax.  So, as I'm taking off my shoes, listening to Pipette getting worked up, shouting and giving out to his brother, I'm wondering "Will I get involved in this or will I just let it blow over?"  I'm never quite sure if Pipette is just shouting to get my attention – but he does have a loud voice and I don't put up with it for very long.  As his voice keeps escalating, I feel compelled to intervene.  I arrive into the kitchen and catch MJ red-handed and not looking guilty at all - his little brother looking at him in heated frustration continues to give out to the point that I can't even do so myself.  I ask him to get out of the kitchen, give him an assignment to keep him occupied and distracted and tell him to allow me to deal with his brother.  He stands in the doorway pouting and watching to see what I'll do but keeps intervening as soon as I start talking to MJ.  I tell him I can't correct his brother and do my parent role if he won't let me.  "If you keep talking, all he hears is you – not me!  So anything I say is useless and I'm wasting my time!  I may as well go back to my bedroom!"  I proceeded to talk to MJ and Paul intervened once again.  After a few similar attempts, I gave up and said "Well, if you won't let me get on with correcting him, I'll just give up then and this situation won't be resolved!" and I left for my bedroom.  MJ continued to eat the crisps and Paul continued hurling frustrated comments at him.  He then came to see me and said "I'm sorry Mummy for the way I acted earlier on!"  I thanked him and then felt the coast was clear for me to finally go deal with MJ.  But as I went back into the kitchen to lecture MJ on disobeying orders, Pipette followed and insisted again on butting in.  This time, I firmly banned him to his bedroom.  The previous times I'd told him to go to his room, he had stubbornly put his foot down and just waited around the kitchen door to see justice done, but this time, he went – in a huff – but he went all the same.  I think he knew I was getting very serious before some important consequences might fall upon him.  Now I could deal with MJ. 

"Don't you know you're disobeying orders by climbing up on that stool to get food out of the cupboards?  Haven't I told you to ask?" 

"Yes, but I'm old enough now to do it myself!"

"It's not a question of age, but of obeying the rules of the house!"

"But I was tired and hungry and just want to relax and have some peace and quiet!"

Because he was insisting, I allowed myself to raise my voice and let him know I was also angry with him (and as I was sure  Pipette was listening with a half-ear to our conversation, I wanted him to be reassured that his brother was getting the talk he needed!) 

"Well, if you hadn't disobeyed the rules, your brother wouldn't have got upset and me neither, so your actions are having heavy consequences.  I know you're tired when you get home and want to relax and that's alright but you must take those few minutes first just to do what has to be done!  And you know you have to ask for the crisps and not just help yourself."

"Yeh, sorry Mum!"

At least MJ wasn't putting up as much resistance as his brother.

About half an hour later, MJ and I were sitting at the table eating dinner.  Pipette was to go to a friends house for dinner and was staying over.  As he was quietly in his bedroom, I let him stay there.  MJ said, "I'm really sorry!  All that was my fault."  At that moment, I noticed Pipette shuffling into the room with a towel over his head as if we couldn't see him.  I didn't feel it necessary to respond to MJ's comment – enough had been said.  I just replied "Ok, thanks!" but I was glad his brother had heard it. 

After dinner, as I prepared Pipette to go to his friends, I could tell he still wasn't quite over his feelings.  He was still grumpy and hadn't said sorry but we needed to get on with getting him to his friend's place by 8pm.  I tried a bit of gentle talk for a few minutes as we sat on my bed together.  He was teary-eyed but something was still eating away at him – he seemed to still be focussed on some injustice to do with his brother.  I wondered was this all about him not having had any crisps.  I had told him he'd have some when I heard a "sorry!"

As we left the apartment and walked over to his friends, he seemed to be mellowing and said "I'm sorry Mum, it's just that…" For the first time since he's learned to talk, Pipette seemed to be stuck for words.  "It's a bit difficult to say…"  I wondered what on earth this could be all about that it's so difficult to talk about?  I thought, "Better be careful how I react here.  I don't want this to be one of those moments where my reaction stops my child from wanting to come out with something difficult to say in the future."  So I looked for some clues to help him spill the beans. 

"Is it about MJ?"

"Yes!"

"Is it about the crisps?"

"Yes!"

"Is it because MJ had some crisps and you didn't?"

Bingo!!!

"Yeh, it's not about the Playstation – I know he's playing Playstation and I will be too.  It's just that I didn't get any crisps!  Do you think you could keep some for me Mummy?"

I was so relieved that he'd finally got it out of his system.  "Of course I will.  You know you didn't get crisps just because you didn't say sorry because you were having a bad attitude with your brother and were just focussing and making frustrated comments about everything he did!"

"Yes, I'm really sorry Mum!"

Oh how their gentleness of heart softens my own!

Pipette's ability to say "sorry" is largely thanks to Mark's insistence and I'm grateful for all the hard work he put into him.  When Pipette was only two years old, his strong dominant character was coming out in mega-tantrums and unwillingness to obey.  Although we were living separately and in two different countries at the time, Mark was quite stern and serious about training this stubborn trait out of him when he would come on his monthly visit.  He would refer to his sister and say, "I don't want him ending up spoilt like my sister, who no-one dares to talk up to for fear of her bad reactions!"  He would insist on Pipette saying "Sorry!" because he had suffered in our relationship from my own lack of ability to say the word. 

As I saw my children learn, I questioned my own difficulties to say it and I've been trying to learn along with them!  I realised that when Mark would get upset about something I did or said, I often felt sorry, but for myself - to the point of feeling self-destroyed.  I would feel so bad that I would be wrapped up in self-pity, self-condemnation and discouragement with little realisation that all that was needed was for me to say "sorry" and not to go down this lane of self-destruction.  I felt that if I said "sorry", my world would fall apart, that I would be giving in to his tantrums – that I would be admitting that the good I try to do was of no value but I was mixing things up.  When there has been damage in a relationship, "sorry" is the only thing that can fix it – no self-inflicted punishment, no amount of depression, rage, self-analysis, drugs, drink or whatever distraction, can make it better.

After Paul's "tantrum" yesterday, that's all I was waiting for in order for togetherness to return to our relationship and as soon as he said "Sorry!" – the wall of separation was lifted – oneness returned.

Over the last few years, I have literally forced myself to say "sorry" to Mark on a few occasions, sometimes just for the practise and also because I know it's necessary in order to destroy wall-building in a relationship.  I don't want to be responsible for any more walls.  I've built enough of them.  I want to tear them down in whatever way I can.  I thought I had to wait until I felt like saying "sorry" in order for it to be sincere but I've learnt that saying "sorry" is another exercise like brushing your teeth or doing abdominal exercises – you don't necessarily feel like doing it but it's good for you.  It also gets easier with practice.  "Sorry seems to be the hardest word!" was well sung by Elton John and often in my relationship with Mark, it seems to be true.  My stubbornness and pride get in the way.  I want to cling on to the "But I'm right – he's wrong!" attitude but I've learnt that what's right is to be humble like a child and be willing to be the party that seeks reconciliation.  Being stubborn and headstrong and insisting on my rights is never right – it only keeps people at a distance.  We buy in to the lie that admitting our weakness will only make us weaker but in fact, it makes us stronger.  What bonds us is recognising and admitting our mistakes and weaknesses.

I remember the time and more specifically, the day, I needed to get forgiveness into my relationship with my Dad.  I was living in Paris and my two sisters also.  It was about one year since Mum had died.  My older sister received a letter from Dad and in it he explained that he had met someone during choir practice.  As I read it myself, I felt a big surge of energy come up from my belly and burst into my head.  It was buried anger.  “How could he?  She’s only been dead one year!”  I exclaimed.  I was so annoyed and I was also so surprised at my reaction.  I didn’t know I had all that anger in there.  Out of sight - out of mind, I suppose.  Now that I knew I had all that anger, I knew I had to do something about it.  Big coincidence, we got a call from Dad to let us know he’d be passing through Paris that week on his way home from his business trip in Germany.  Even bigger coincidence, I was the only one of the three sisters who was available on the day he was coming.  I knew what I had to do...  I realised I must have pent a lot of emotions up over those years where I’d witnessed his extra-marital relationships.  I know I hadn’t felt anger at the time - just confusion – I didn’t know what to make of the situation and no-one talked about it.  So those emotions got stuffed!  When Dad arrived in Paris, I was nervous about letting him know how I felt.  We got together for lunch and had a meal but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.  I kept waiting for a good opportunity or for something to lead into the conversation but it just wasn’t happening.  Finally, when we were in my apartment having a cup of tea, after about six hours of being together, I knew I just had to jump in the deep end or I’d only regret it later.  So with a lump quickly coming into my throat, I told him I’d read the letter he sent and that I’d reacted badly when I heard he’d met someone.  He listened, seemingly humbled by what I was saying.  He didn’t react defensively.  I told him I had found it hard to forgive him but that I did.  He thanked me.  We didn’t discuss things much further – this being already a major hurdle for both of us to get over.   That was it... six hours of belly aching anticipation for one minute’s conversation but I went to bed peacefully that night.  I had done what I had to do.

“If you forgive

Then you’ll live

But if you don’t

Then you won’t”

21/11/09
Pipette asked me to make pancakes this morning so being a Saturday, I decided to go ahead and make them.  It turned out to be a family occasion as everyone wanted some and we all sat down together, which is rarely the case for breakfasts as we all get up at different times.  The atmosphere was light and gay.  I wanted to ask Mark to pass me something and said, "Can you hand me a mug please dar....."  I cut myself short as I realised I was about to say "darling".  Feeling embarassed and hoping nobody had noticed, I just kept my mouth shut.  But MJ, who doesn't miss a thing, looked up at me and said, "Oh -darling- Mammy's in love!"  I tried to make little of it by saying, "Oh, I call everyone darling these days!"  I did feel awkward but Mark continued as usual as if everything was normal...