it's definitely them
0 comment Monday, June 23, 2014 |
Last Saturday I asked is it me? or them? Why did I find Saturdays so difficult?
Well, today I have decided that it is definitely them.
I was in quite a good place this morning. I'd got the whole day mapped out and I felt OK about it. But after six hours of constant questioning and being followed around so closely it's like they are somehow attached to my belt, I am ready to blow.
Final straw: we've been trying to get them fancy dress costumes for a party they've got coming up. Son wants to go dressed as Mario. The costume is not in any of the shops by us. I can see he's really disappointed. So we, his dad and I, say we'll try online when we get home. We get home. I go to the toilet, more to get away from being harassed than to have a pee. I am pursued by daughter asking me yet another question she already knows the answer to. I tell her she's banned from asking me any more questions today. When I get out of the loo, son is there. He wants to know when we're going online. Now, as far as I'm aware his dad is downstairs, where the laptop is, and he could have saved himself a trip upstairs, and a short wait whilst I had a piss, and just asked his dad.
But he didn't. They don't. It's like they don't even see him. They just see me. They just want me. Every second of every day. They just want me.
I point out to my son, a bit crossly, that he has two parents, and that he could have asked his dad, in fact that he should ask his dad because That's the type of thing is his dad is there for. I then shut myself in my bedroom because I really feel that I am going to blow if I do not get some space.
I see a book. I relax. I pick up the book, sit back on my bed, and begin to read, safe in the knowledge that the kids will be busy with dad picking costumes out on the laptop. I can have a break.
I read half a page and I hear the kids come running up the stairs, noisily, hysterically, and go into one of their bedrooms and start playing. Of course. If I am upstairs, there is no way they will stay downstairs.
My husband enters the bedroom. I ask him what's happened. He's not bothered about the Mario costume, I am told, they both just want to play upstairs.
Of course they do. That's where I am, Trying to get some peace and quiet.
So, as Husband seems intent upon relaxing in the bedroom too, and as at that very moment I feel like I am allergic to human beings, I storm off downstairs, grab the laptop for myself (well no other fecker wants it, do they?) and shut myself away in the snug.
Closely followed of course, by the children, who have now decided, two minutes after going upstairs to play, that they now want to be downstairs to watch TV in the living room.
Of course they do. Downstairs is where I am.
I know these children need me. I know they have an acute sense of abandonment. I know that somewhere deep inside of them they think they are going to be taken away from me like they were taken away from their old mum. I understand all of the theory behind all of their behaviours.
But for the love of god, these incessant attempts to hold me hostage, to have me bound, gagged, and blindfolded, only able to move with them, speak to them, see what they are looking at, it's inhuman. These children do not want me to exercise the slightest iota of free will. They physically obstruct my movements, they don't allow me my own thoughts by throwing hundreds of nonsense questions at me, and they constantly direct me to look at what they are looking at, so that I am not even allowed to look where and at what I wish.
It's like they would drain my body of who I am and replace me with them. Like they would crawl right on into me if they could, and control every movement like I was a puppet.
This is a bad weekend. It's Father's Day tomorrow, which is hell for us all. This is a bad month. June is full of psychological triggers for the kids. We've had some big stuff from both of them recently, that have pushed me to start on the journey towards getting help from CAMHS. But, perhaps when this month passes they'll start to behave more normally again. I can only hope because if I thought this was going to carry on forever I'd be the one with severe mental health problems.