Oh I do like to be beside the seaside …

Both Kayak Man and I love the water so we decided it was high time we paid a local beach a visit taking advantage of the wonderful sunshine that is all too rare around these parts. A short train trip and viola – sun, sand, sea and ice cream.  Puuurfect.  The beach was busier than we expected: actually full of school classes out on trips having their own build a sand castle competitions. Some of these creations were pretty impressive. This is the first summer that Kayak Man and I are really able to enjoy, seen as he is still job hunting and my health is much better. A simple day and so much fun.

I love the people watching: the school groups, the families, the dog walkers… everybody seeming to have a good time. I have to admit though, sometimes I see something that, well, I just have to turn and walk away from. Today was no exception. Next to me was a family with a young lad about 3 years or so old who was busy playing with some plastic dinosaurs in the sand. Really cute kid… who then finds a huge shard of glass that looked like it was from a broken beer bottle. Of course this is a most exciting find and now he’s tossing it around and playing with the thing and mum is looking on giggling. I am not making any judgment on this lady’s mothering abilities but I am just too neurotic to sit and watch this little guy play with a sharp pointy object of broken glass. I have to make him stop OR walk away. Now, far be it from me to tell someone how to parent so walk away it is, Kayak Man trailing behind confused at the sudden movement.

Soon we’re at the waters edge because you know I simply can’t go to the beach and not dip my toes in. This time our next door neighbors are a family with a very small child who looked like he was having his first time in the water splashing about like a true water baby and giggling his little head off in the process. Anyone notice how infectious that uninhibited child’s giggle is? Seriously, we need to put more effort into trying to bottle it as I’m sure it would be more powerful than any current anti depressant. Just saying.

And then it happened. We ended up in this really deep conversation about life, the universe and everything (in our case, how much we want to relocate when we should do that “W” thing) completely by accident. As we’re wondering round the beach in no particular direction, meandering through our plans for the future with the same type of casual relaxed ease, Kayak Man looks at me and says ” I want us to have  kids just as much as you do ya know” … and in that moment a few things happened. My heart stopped and hovered on the edge of braking for a moment or two. But this time, instead of just shutting down with the old “never gonna happen, move on now now NOW … you’re hurting me” attitude, I found myself just saying “yeah I know” and wondering if maybe the door that leads to treatment and a long long scary journey was unbolted. If it was – if we decide together to go that way in the future – right now I’m ok with that.

And I get bonus points because I didn’t even cry!

Ali xX

April 4th

April 4th to many in the UK only signals the end of the financial year… but its also my Dad’s birthday – a day that makes me feel awkward every year. My dad stays in full time care now up in Scotland due mostly to a number of strokes he’s had caused by his excessive drinking. I haven’t been to see him in a few years… neither has my brother actually. The last time I did go, there was very little of the man I knew left.  He’d lost all his weight and become so small in stature that it was hard to think of him as the same person except for the occasional sparkle of recognition in his eyes – a look that was totally David Thom. It’s the small things that bring it home to you. My father never liked chocolate.  He didn’t have a sweet tooth at all. I never saw him eat a dessert or chocolate. His one weakness: Maynards Wine Gums or Midget Gems. But here was this man in a hospital bed shoving away Kit Kats like they were going out of fashion with a chocolaty grin. It didn’t make any sense to me – this person who had always been strong, intimidating, who had scared me for so long… he was almost like a child.  He did recognize me but wasn’t really able to say much. I’m not sure how much of what I talked about registered with him either, but he held me real tight before I left and that made me feel that my being there had made a difference to him.

I feel guilty… a guilt that has been with me since my early teens. My parents had not long split and I was home from boarding school for a short break.  My brother and I had gone to stay with him for the weekend, something that was always hard. My dad seemed totally oblivious to the fact that kids need to eat.  His fridge like his cupboards was almost always empty. Ok when I say empty that’s not true… but umm most of the stuff in there kids shouldn’t drink. Every time I was over there I had to badger him into going food shopping.  Yeah he made a nagger from an early age and of course I had to close my ears to the numerous gibes about how fat I was and couldn’t I just live off that. It always stressed me out that he never seemed to eat EVER. When he did when I wasn’t staying I have no idea….

To be fair, we spent a considerable amount of our weekends in one local bar or another. I probably drank a stooopid amount of Coke in that time too. You know its one thing to walk into a bar and have the all the barmen know your dad on sight… but when it starts happening every place you go it gets a little weird. Still it was better than being home alone with him. He only ever touched me in public if he was REALLY mad. Problem is I’ve never been that good at keeping my mouth shut and for some reason I had this amazing ability to make him mad.

Anyways back to this one weekend… it was late Sunday night.  My mother was due to pick us up. Things had gotten so bad between them she wouldn’t even come into the building – instead she’d pull up outside, the car horn would go off and then it would keep sounding every few minutes until we got out there.  I HATED it. Really didn’t like drawing attention to us in that way. It made my cringe every time. I walked into the bedroom to tell dad we were about to leave and found him passed out on the bed. I shook him.  His eyes opened and he grabbed for my hand holding on and squeezing me so hard it make my fingertips tingle. He looked up into my eyes and was mumbling something. I just kept shaking him giggling nervously (I always giggle when I’m nervous. It’s terrible) he kept staring at me such an intense look. Finally I figure out what he was saying… “Help me… help me”.  His speech was kind of slurred. I got mad or upset… or something. My brain just assumed he was drunk/wasted or out of it again.  Let’s face it, it was not unusual for me to come across my dad passed out in various places around his apartment. I pleaded with him to get up I told him I had to go and when he didn’t I turned and left. I walked out on him asking me for help. The whole episode scared the hell out of me but he seemed fine the next day when I called him. He never mentioned anything.  I’d told my mum and she didn’t seem concerned. It’s haunted me. It still does.  Looking back on it I’m sure this was one of these minor strokes happening to him,  a full 4 years or so before anyone actually found out what was going on. I wish I’d known. I wish I’d listened or even made somebody listen to me when I told then something wasn’t right with dad. Hind sight is a wonderful thing isn’t it ?

Today I feel guilty too – guilt that I haven’t been back to see him. Guilt that I’m not visiting today. I’m a bad daughter because I can’t get over what my father did to me.  I can’t put aside all this anger that I feel towards him for what he did to me, to my mum… for what he took from me. Even ten years after it all stopped it still feels too big. to many half memories,  too many nightmares,  too many places I’m afraid to go to. Things that still make my skin crawl. I’m furious that he is all but gone now. He’ll never understand. He’ll never say sorry. Now I’m past mad – I’m just terribly sad and I’m still trying to clear up this mess of insecurity and fear… teaching myself to trust… that its ok to confide in some people.

It’s so hard to keep on top of all these emotions that build inside me even at the thought of seeing him again. It makes me feel sick.  Yet I still think about him most days. I wonder how he is, if he’s having an ok day, who’s caring for him today… I still care. I want him to be alright. He’s my dad. You only get one of those.              

I feel like a terrible excuse for a human being today. I seem to be failing at so much. I have so many issues going round in my head that it doesn’t achieve anything.  Its kind of like a car stuck in the mud – the wheels are spinning like crazy, there’s smoke coming out but still making no progress. I’m beating myself up and its making me exhausted, snappy and so angry with myself and everything else I feel so out of control today it frightens me. When Gadget Guy tells me I’ll be alright I want to jump through my screen so I can wrap his headset around his neck just to make him shhhhhh… I know I always come through this, but it feels like hell. Make it stop pleeease. Just tell me how I can make it stop. So many memories flood my brain – pictures of things in the past so vivid I screw my eyes shut as if that’s going to help me stop seeing this crap. Sometimes I find I’m trashing my head around in some vain attempt to get the picture to GO AWAY! …….I so need to fall asleep but I can’t because I’m frightened to dream.

I sooo know that he’s trying to lighten the mood when he teases, but today each jibe feels like a hot poker trying to brand me useless or failure. I know its not his fault. It’s not him I’m mad with… but he’s here so he’s getting hit by the crossfire… and that makes me a bad person.

The 4th of April really sucks!

Ali xX

There will be no K.S. today as I found out a friends father passed away tonight. My thoughts are with G and her family at this time… RIP Mr. S.

“May Flights of Angels Sing Thee to Thy Rest”

~ Hamlet

Can I have a word……… about a baby.

 Motherhood is hard. It’s a 24 hour job with no breaks. It’s a life long contract it’s draining financially, emotionally and physically… or at least what I have seen of it. I’m not a mother, but from every angle I look at it this gig is tough.

Yet there’s nothing I want more…  not even a Green Card. I’ve wanted to be a mum for as long as I can remember. Remco – that’s the name of my first doll – a baby boy to match the one my parents brought home from the hospital (we called the real one Andrew and a fine brother he turned out to be). I was two. After that came a little girl that cried tiny tears and had the most frightful blonde curly hair. She was from my Granny.  I had a bald Cabbage Patch baby whose head smelt funny that Santa left me one Christmas morning, Finally, I had Rosemary. She was a big baby and I saved up for her all by myself from my weekly pocket money (I didn’t tell them but she was my favorite).  I was nine. After that, my parents declared I was too old for dolls and a blanket ban on new babies was strictly imposed.  I remember them all. I loved them dearly. I only wanted to play the mommy game when I was a kid, much to the frustration of my playmates. What I loved best was “helping” look after my younger cousins.  I pushed Graeme to sleep in his pram when my arms still had to reach up to the handle. I couldn’t even see in to look at him. His mommy gave me the nod as he dosed off “mission accomplished”. I remember the wide eyed amazement I felt when I first saw my uncle cradling a new addition to the family. I just kept thinking she’s tiny. TINY.  No, you don’t understand – really really small. Breast feeding made my head spin. I’m sure I must have creeped my aunt’s out.  I didn’t intend to be rude but was fixed to the spot with fascination staring at them through the thick lenses I had to wear. Would have been a great look I bet.  I EVEN remember the first time I was shown how to change a nappy. How delighted I was that I was allowed to share the help (trust me this is the one fascination I have truly gotten over… yeah).       

I imagined I’d have three kids: A boy, a girl, a few years gap and then the baby of my family.  I even had their names picked out since my teens.

I believed, I was born to be a mum, apparently I was wrong.

If you’ve read my blog at all, you’d know that’s not going to happen for me. The chances are I won’t be a mum… ever (I know, I know. people have told me before there’s always adoption. I love the way they sound so happy when they say it, though the thought of it makes me die a little more inside – I don’t want a baby. I want MY baby. Maybe my outlook will change with time. Here’s hoping)

I’m not telling you all this to talk about myself though. I don’t need sympathy or pity or tissues.  I’m not sitting here crying my eyes out either. I just need you to understand. I know about wanting babies. I know about being broody. Yeah, they don’t turn that off when your reproductive system goes into meltdown. I understand. If you could give me nine months of carrying a child when the time is right for me, you can have the rest of my life. Seriously.

The key for me is “when the time is right.” My dream of having a child is not to have one at all cost. I want to be able to support my children.  I want to bring them into a loving and stable environment. If you offered me the chance to carry life right now, I’d like to think I’d say no. I know it would tear me apart to pass that up but I hope to goodness I’d be strong enough for the baby’s sake.  I’m in no place to look after a child. I’m embarrassed to admit it but I wouldn’t cope.

Don’t take this as me being anti-single parent because I’m not – there are many, many genuine reasons that either parent ends up raising an infant alone  and I have nothing but respect and admiration for anyone in that position. I believe they should be given every support.

BUT … you’re 22 years old.  You have two wonderful children already – a son who’s so smart, a daughter with the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen – each depending on you to show them how to fulfill all the potential they were given, each looking to you to nourish and protect them – watching you, learning by your example, with so much love to give you if you would only let them.  They have no father figure, which I know means you have to be both for them. I know that kills you. You’ve been to the edge and I’ve heard you cry. Wished I could be right there to hold you and help you to make things a little better to ease the burden.  I know the fierce love you have for them but I also see the struggle of coping with two young children on your own – the heartache of one living away from you .

I was devastated for you when you miscarried your third child. I was so mad that you didn’t call me, didn’t let me be there, never reached out to me until after the fact.

Now you’re pregnant. Congratulations.

I want to be happy for you.  I want to be able to jump up and down and scream for joy to look forward to your new journey, to shopping for baby clothes and meeting your child.

But there is so much I don’t understand. I thought you were struggling with two? I thought you were focusing on getting your son back with you and not living at your mother’s? I thought you would have learned to be more careful… or did you plan this? Do you want it? Are you really happy?

What about the father? Is he happy… does he want a child? Will he be there for you and the three kids always? How long have you been together anyways? Is a few months long enough to decide to create a life together? From what I can see, he’s so young – I mean in some countries he’s still underage.

What am I missing? What pieces of the puzzle do I need to see things the way you do? Because, right now, I’m angry – angry and hurt. I mean if everything you’ve shared with me is true then I’m so scared by the prospect of another child that, to be honest, I feel like you showed amazing irresponsibility. If it’s not true then you’ve lied to me all this time?

What do you want from me? Someone to listen? You can have that. Someone to care? You know I do. Someone to jump into your arms and tell you this is the best news ever? I can’t do that. I’m sorry. I wish nothing but the best for you and your kids. Always have… and always will. For heaven’s sake I’m not saying you shouldn’t have the child. I would never wish the pain of giving up a child on anyone and I certainly couldn’t ask of you something I would find so utterly impossible any more than I would wish harm on an unborn child. After all, babies don’t choose the situations they are born into. They have to trust that someone else thought about that. Convince me you thought about it.

I have read so many sad stories recently. I’ve been looking, you know, for others with PCOS – someone who might know what I am going though. searching for information, trying to figure out how I can cope, what I should do to help myself – because I need to deal with this and, unlike you, I had no control over what’s happened to me. I mostly found women, couples struggling with infertility, waiting for years, hoping praying to be on the right side of a statistic, desperate for miracle. These people are in stable relationships. They have homes of their own. They have jobs – work for their living and endure terrible heartache. How is it fair that they find impossible something which you seem to take for granted? I find myself wondering if you walked a few miles in their position, would you still have such a casual attitude to the creation of life that you appear to have right now??

It infuriates me, but the truth is the world is not fair. The taxpayers money will be spent on supporting your third child, meanwhile the NHS is refusing other couples fertility treatment. I guess there’s only so much money to go round, huh?  

So, there you have it – the honest ugly truth. I’m angry with you. I’m a little hurt. I’m disappointed. Most of all, I’m confused and I don’t want to go on feeling this way.

Please explain. Make me understand.

 Love  Ali xX

“Children begin by loving their parents ; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.” 

 ~ Oscar Wilde

Growing up, keeping the sparkly things

Making connections....hello ?

Imagine my surprise this morning when I loaded up this thing and found that someone out there had actually read it. Not someone I passed the link to. Not even a friend – a complete stranger actually read what I have to say and felt proud of me! Yes, me. WOW. I felt all warm inside. Very few people have ever felt proud of me or at least not so much that they actually said so! I feel even more determined to stick to this little plan of mine (actually in terms of my life it’s quite a big plan). It was an inspiration and should really have had an “inspire me…” post all of its own… except that I’m nosy I figured if she spent the time to read what I had to say the least I could do was return the favor… and that’s how I ended up at Maura Leon’s website. She’s a life coach who just started blogging. It made me giggle that she had read my plan. To be honest, not in a bad way. It’s just I guess that’s what I’m trying to do here – be my own life coach.

Anyway, I did mention this for a reason – other than to thank her for popping over. You see, while I was at her site I came across her post about self parenting. You can read it for yourself here. Basically the gist is as a child we have feelings to be validated and needs to be met. In my opinion it is the responsibility of our parents to take care of both. Regardless of how well or not they performed their duty, sometimes we get past blaming them or even ourselves for the way we are which achieves nothing except to keep you stuck seeking approval / validation of your feelings and fulfillment of your needs from others around you – friends, relatives or authority figures for example. at the very same time we wind up feeling resentful towards these people because we never feel like we are good enough when actually what we have to realize is that when we become adults the responsibility for both should become our own. It’s up to us then to stand up and take control of our lives regardless of the past. We need to learn to make the best of the cards we have been dealt.

There are so many reasons that this strikes a cord with me in terms of feelings and needs. I guess my mum scores a “could do better”. We’re not close, but the real problem here is my father. Let’s just say he was a destructive force in my life. We’ll not go into the why. Point is I’ve been blaming him for years. I’m angry (this is an understatement) with him. I feel betrayed YET I still care about him. I haven’t seen him in years. Sadly, he has had several strokes and lives in care far from me but I think about him often. I hate. – HATE – the fact that I will never get to have the conversation with him. You know the one where I make him understand what effect his choices have had on me. Where he says sorry and we have peace. (I don’t know that this conversation would have happened even if he was well, but you know girls dream)

I am absolutely stuck seeking the approval of others – anyone, really. I want someone to tell me I’m a good person, that I’m not worthless. I want people to notice me and care. I want to make a difference to others. I realize now I really have to work on this. This little girl will have to find her own peace without her daddy’s help. He’s had his chance to give it to me.

Whoa, this is gonna be harder even than I thought and I already reckoned it seemed pretty damn hard.

Repeat the mantra with me…. “I will not give up… I will not give in… I’m going to sparkle.” OK, I can see you’re confused by the sparkle thing. I like sparkly things. They’re pretty. In my life I don’t need to be a star. I don’t want to eclipse anyone else. I just want to be a sparkly precious gem. Does that make ANY sense? It does to me anyway.

In other news… I was out today taking pictures. That’s me by the phone box. *blushes* You can see the rest of my pictures on my Flickr page here. I’ve been having problems holding the camera still. You can see the movement issue in several of these images… I’ve already discussed this with my photo mad friend and he’s given me some hints and tips to try more on this later perhaps I’ll take some more tomorrow.

I might be going away this weekend. I’m nervous but it should be fun.

I’ve made some changes to my diet already too. We need to talk about this tomorrow OK?

One last thing … I’ve decided that I should try to think of one thing each day that made me smile. It can be something really simple. I’ll be adding them to the end of my posts sort of like a P.S note except that mine are “keep smiling” notes. Mmhumm. a K.S. note lol

Today’s K.S.: It didn’t rain while I was taking pictures ( its that simple!)

Ali xX

Growing..