Where did those words from "Frozen" pop into my head from?
As it stands today, I am alone. I still got The Husband and Tara around here somewhere, but Im now alone. Im trying to be positive, to pull myself together and make a plan, or find a purpose. Most important I'm trying to stop my record breaking, self destructive crying spell of five months now, as it has caused my sinuses to be inflamed and making me feel very unwell.
September 2018 was the culmination of Tara's dream-to go to the top grammar school in the area. I remember being excited, pulling out out the stops, re-educating myself so I could teach her everything so she could achieve what she wanted. I will say that again, what SHE wanted. Given my own background of having to fight for my education, I wanted to make sure nothing would come in the way of my daughter's education if that was what SHE wanted. And she did.
She passed her entrance exam, and came second. A few points away from the first spot and not happy about it. I praised her for she had achieved; she sulked over what she had missed. Personality probably. Come September a new, highly academic grammar school and a huge, very steep learning curve, for all of us. It's been me and only me so far in Tara's academic life. The Husband was not in the picture so far. He went to work every morning, got a wage at the end of the month and if I made plans for Tara on the weekends he would drive us. That's about it. Not very pro-active.
Expectations and the huge work load from school hit us like a ton of bricks. I had heard from other mums that the first term in secondary school was a huge transition for children in primary school. It's true. I sat down and explained to Tara that if she got her act together in these crucial months, it would be easier after that. I was frantically trying to get Tara to organise herself. I printed new time tables, which I made late at night, flowers and hearts interspersed amongst the few available time slots between school and bedtime. I cleared shelves and drawers, making separate sections for different subjects, explained to Tara that getting into Grammar school was the start of a journey, not the end of it etc. etc.
There were two other factors that overlapped with this chaotic beginning.
1. Tara was 11, and increasingly moody and sulky.
2. I had entered Stage 1 of Adhesive Capsulitis, commonly known as Frozen shoulder. More about that later, but suffice to say the pain and helplessness of this condition is right up there among the most painful conditions known to humans.
Where earlier I was rushing around between school, various clubs, house work, cooking etc. I was now doing all that, along with the challenges of a recalcitrant 11 year old who was refusing to learn to shampoo her own hair or pack her school bag or show me her work to sign off her school planner. While driving was excruciatingly painful, trying to shampoo Tara's hair made me want to pass out with the sheer white hot (that's the best colour I can associate with this pain) agony of just moving my arm.
There had to be a breaking point, and mine came when I reached out to The Husband for support. I started calmly but ended up raging like a lunatic at the sheer lack of support or co-operation from either Him or Tara. I complained that I was in enormous pain, that I was struggling, that I needed Tara to step up and take more responsibility, that I can't be signing her school planner if she hasn't brought her work to show me as her Form tutor expected her to do. After all of that The Husband , who had never raised one finger in raising Tara, gave a huge sigh, and signed Tara's planner and walked away, saying he couldn't stand all these arguments, and how he felt stuck between the two of us.
It is a blur how it happened, but after a massive blow up with The Husband, and an even bigger explosion when he brought my 11 year old to witness our heated exchange- something snapped. He showed my precious Tara what a crazy person her Mum was. I saw her eyes widen as she shrunk away from me. He turned to the weeping child, and said, "Look, Im sorry I took your side over your mother"and with drooping shoulders, walked away, our little girl running after him.
I was shocked. I went after him and said if that was the best he could do, maybe he should do everything for Tara now. He said fine. Just like that I was no longer Tara's Mum. I think I was fired from being Tara's Mum in a way I still can't get my head around.
November 27th 2018 was the last time my child hugged me, or we kissed good night. I died that day.
The Husband took over everything. I backed off more out of shock than anything else.
Bedtime for Tara has slowly shifted to 10:30 pm sometimes 11 pm. I remember I used to be very particular about children needing good, regular sleep to function well. I remember running around trying to wind up the evening, school bag packed for the next day, showers and teeth brushing completed by 8:30, then saying our thank yous to God and cuddling and chatting about what happened in school that day, handing over worries and concerns to Mum, then hugs and kisses and tuck in for bedtime. Every day for the last 11 years.
Now both of them say their goodnights together, and sometimes in passing I hear Tara saying the thank you prayer I had created when my baby was an infant.
He tugged at her long hair and brought tears to her eyes when he first started attempting to do her hair. He stopped doing that shortly after and she now goes uncombed or brushed.
Gaps in the day or weekends where we used to paint, do arts and crafts or go walking are replaced by The Husband's first love-The iPad
Any other gap in the day or night is filled by voracious reading-a habit I introduced to Tara, but now being done on an epic, unhealthy and uncontrolled scale.
Clothes are mismatched, shoes are too tight, her skin is dry
I must be a bad mother. I thought I was the best Mum for my Tara, but if I was, wouldn't she have come after me? The Husband played his part in separating a Mum and her little heartbeat, but how could my heartbeat leave me?
I did try at the start. But The Husband had now taken it upon himself to erase every bit of my existence in Tara's life, but only where convenient for him. He still lets me drive her to school and do the pick up because he has to work, he lets me cook the meals, because he doesn't want to or know how to. Every gap in Tara's life that was my place, was replaced by the iPad, books or television. My Tara is a zombie, a bedraggled one at that.
On my birthday he brought in a few presents to my room, which I said I didn't want and he should leave. As I said it, Tara slipped out from behind him, her face falling. At some level I think I was being played. Another part of me had broken. The old me was a fiery Mum. I loved with a passion, and was full of hugs and kisses, but also bellowed to get order and routine in place. Now I stopped saying anything. I retreated into my room. No one came after me. I cry every night. I stopped talking to God.
A few days later I told The Husband that I had given up work to raise Tara, and if that purpose was gone, I need to find a new purpose, maybe go back to work. He said I should - it would be "good for me".
There was no Christmas, no one came to me on Mother's day. For all of Tara's primary school life, I attended every show, every parent's evening, every performance, every sport's day, every swimming race where she came last, beaming and cheering at my child's proud face. This school year I've had no invitation for anything. No handmade gifts, Nothing. I'm always in my room when they are both in the house. The Husband and I just text each other if we have to, mainly related to household matters, Amazon parcel, electricity reading, school pick up etc. Tara speaks a couple of words to me a day "Can I have dinner now?" "Could you get me cereal?"
As I write this, two thoughts are uppermost in my mind:
I must have been the world's worst Mum whose only child never came after her...even a little bit.
or
I hope Karma is a bigger game player than The Husband
I am now in Stage two of this life changing Frozen Shoulder experience. I don't speak anymore. Ive survived my early life - not lived it. I wanted different for Tara. When I had her, I spent the next 11 years protecting and raising her to hopefully be a strong, loving and independent woman. I now have no purpose. I am a one handed driver, cleaner, cook and overall Plan B to everyone.
All I want is find purpose and direction. I am aware that no one reads this blog. But if someone does chance upon it, please leave me some strength, some prayers and some loving energy.
As it stands today, I am alone. I still got The Husband and Tara around here somewhere, but Im now alone. Im trying to be positive, to pull myself together and make a plan, or find a purpose. Most important I'm trying to stop my record breaking, self destructive crying spell of five months now, as it has caused my sinuses to be inflamed and making me feel very unwell.
September 2018 was the culmination of Tara's dream-to go to the top grammar school in the area. I remember being excited, pulling out out the stops, re-educating myself so I could teach her everything so she could achieve what she wanted. I will say that again, what SHE wanted. Given my own background of having to fight for my education, I wanted to make sure nothing would come in the way of my daughter's education if that was what SHE wanted. And she did.
She passed her entrance exam, and came second. A few points away from the first spot and not happy about it. I praised her for she had achieved; she sulked over what she had missed. Personality probably. Come September a new, highly academic grammar school and a huge, very steep learning curve, for all of us. It's been me and only me so far in Tara's academic life. The Husband was not in the picture so far. He went to work every morning, got a wage at the end of the month and if I made plans for Tara on the weekends he would drive us. That's about it. Not very pro-active.
Expectations and the huge work load from school hit us like a ton of bricks. I had heard from other mums that the first term in secondary school was a huge transition for children in primary school. It's true. I sat down and explained to Tara that if she got her act together in these crucial months, it would be easier after that. I was frantically trying to get Tara to organise herself. I printed new time tables, which I made late at night, flowers and hearts interspersed amongst the few available time slots between school and bedtime. I cleared shelves and drawers, making separate sections for different subjects, explained to Tara that getting into Grammar school was the start of a journey, not the end of it etc. etc.
There were two other factors that overlapped with this chaotic beginning.
1. Tara was 11, and increasingly moody and sulky.
2. I had entered Stage 1 of Adhesive Capsulitis, commonly known as Frozen shoulder. More about that later, but suffice to say the pain and helplessness of this condition is right up there among the most painful conditions known to humans.
Where earlier I was rushing around between school, various clubs, house work, cooking etc. I was now doing all that, along with the challenges of a recalcitrant 11 year old who was refusing to learn to shampoo her own hair or pack her school bag or show me her work to sign off her school planner. While driving was excruciatingly painful, trying to shampoo Tara's hair made me want to pass out with the sheer white hot (that's the best colour I can associate with this pain) agony of just moving my arm.
There had to be a breaking point, and mine came when I reached out to The Husband for support. I started calmly but ended up raging like a lunatic at the sheer lack of support or co-operation from either Him or Tara. I complained that I was in enormous pain, that I was struggling, that I needed Tara to step up and take more responsibility, that I can't be signing her school planner if she hasn't brought her work to show me as her Form tutor expected her to do. After all of that The Husband , who had never raised one finger in raising Tara, gave a huge sigh, and signed Tara's planner and walked away, saying he couldn't stand all these arguments, and how he felt stuck between the two of us.
It is a blur how it happened, but after a massive blow up with The Husband, and an even bigger explosion when he brought my 11 year old to witness our heated exchange- something snapped. He showed my precious Tara what a crazy person her Mum was. I saw her eyes widen as she shrunk away from me. He turned to the weeping child, and said, "Look, Im sorry I took your side over your mother"and with drooping shoulders, walked away, our little girl running after him.
I was shocked. I went after him and said if that was the best he could do, maybe he should do everything for Tara now. He said fine. Just like that I was no longer Tara's Mum. I think I was fired from being Tara's Mum in a way I still can't get my head around.
November 27th 2018 was the last time my child hugged me, or we kissed good night. I died that day.
The Husband took over everything. I backed off more out of shock than anything else.
Bedtime for Tara has slowly shifted to 10:30 pm sometimes 11 pm. I remember I used to be very particular about children needing good, regular sleep to function well. I remember running around trying to wind up the evening, school bag packed for the next day, showers and teeth brushing completed by 8:30, then saying our thank yous to God and cuddling and chatting about what happened in school that day, handing over worries and concerns to Mum, then hugs and kisses and tuck in for bedtime. Every day for the last 11 years.
Now both of them say their goodnights together, and sometimes in passing I hear Tara saying the thank you prayer I had created when my baby was an infant.
He tugged at her long hair and brought tears to her eyes when he first started attempting to do her hair. He stopped doing that shortly after and she now goes uncombed or brushed.
Gaps in the day or weekends where we used to paint, do arts and crafts or go walking are replaced by The Husband's first love-The iPad
Any other gap in the day or night is filled by voracious reading-a habit I introduced to Tara, but now being done on an epic, unhealthy and uncontrolled scale.
Clothes are mismatched, shoes are too tight, her skin is dry
I must be a bad mother. I thought I was the best Mum for my Tara, but if I was, wouldn't she have come after me? The Husband played his part in separating a Mum and her little heartbeat, but how could my heartbeat leave me?
I did try at the start. But The Husband had now taken it upon himself to erase every bit of my existence in Tara's life, but only where convenient for him. He still lets me drive her to school and do the pick up because he has to work, he lets me cook the meals, because he doesn't want to or know how to. Every gap in Tara's life that was my place, was replaced by the iPad, books or television. My Tara is a zombie, a bedraggled one at that.
On my birthday he brought in a few presents to my room, which I said I didn't want and he should leave. As I said it, Tara slipped out from behind him, her face falling. At some level I think I was being played. Another part of me had broken. The old me was a fiery Mum. I loved with a passion, and was full of hugs and kisses, but also bellowed to get order and routine in place. Now I stopped saying anything. I retreated into my room. No one came after me. I cry every night. I stopped talking to God.
A few days later I told The Husband that I had given up work to raise Tara, and if that purpose was gone, I need to find a new purpose, maybe go back to work. He said I should - it would be "good for me".
There was no Christmas, no one came to me on Mother's day. For all of Tara's primary school life, I attended every show, every parent's evening, every performance, every sport's day, every swimming race where she came last, beaming and cheering at my child's proud face. This school year I've had no invitation for anything. No handmade gifts, Nothing. I'm always in my room when they are both in the house. The Husband and I just text each other if we have to, mainly related to household matters, Amazon parcel, electricity reading, school pick up etc. Tara speaks a couple of words to me a day "Can I have dinner now?" "Could you get me cereal?"
As I write this, two thoughts are uppermost in my mind:
I must have been the world's worst Mum whose only child never came after her...even a little bit.
or
I hope Karma is a bigger game player than The Husband
I am now in Stage two of this life changing Frozen Shoulder experience. I don't speak anymore. Ive survived my early life - not lived it. I wanted different for Tara. When I had her, I spent the next 11 years protecting and raising her to hopefully be a strong, loving and independent woman. I now have no purpose. I am a one handed driver, cleaner, cook and overall Plan B to everyone.
All I want is find purpose and direction. I am aware that no one reads this blog. But if someone does chance upon it, please leave me some strength, some prayers and some loving energy.
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