Sitting on my bed, my tears fall in huge drops smudging my mascara onto my glasses; I know that’ll annoy the hell out of me later, why do I never take them off first?
My eyes are puffy and red like someone handed me a doobie and I’m actually at a great party but I’m not and my body is tired and soggy like a wet sock left on the wet cold pavers out the back in the middle of a rainstorm.
Sometimes the tears and anger come because I am an overwhelmed mother with the stress of having 3 really cute and cheeky demons that love to destroy my sanity on a daily basis but usually it’s because I have mental health issues that are directly related to my childhood.
I was sexually abused by my step father from the age 5-11, no one knew until I was 21 and despite the fact my mum and brother frequently saw my step dad in my room with his hands under my blankets, with excuses like “She had a nightmare” or “she had a sore back” no one clicked to what was going on, no one can have him convicted, and no amount of blogging about it will ever change it, the laws are crazy in historical cases.
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The really hard part of all this is that now I have decided to confront this all head on in the last few months and it has had effects on my life with my family and most of all the way I parent those little half-human half-demon children.
I have a delightfully minor sometimes major and random case of depression, generalised anxiety and PTSD to name a few.
We are moving from our cosy too small for us house soon because I am no longer comfortable living here as he can easily find out where I am and to help that; I’m irrationally thinking he will come here and break in and abuse my daughter. I wake up often during the night saying to my husband “did you hear that? I lie awake convinced someone’s breaking in or watching us through the bedroom widow and hearing sounds that aren’t there, was that foot steps? Was that creaking floorboards? Where there are no floorboards that kind of stuff. This is all heavy heartbreaking stuff right. But I promise I’m doing pretty outrageously fantastic considering.
I have sat and cried while my children have watched on more times than I dare to imagine, my 2 year old has said “mummy sad” or when I’ve stopped crying she says “why you not sad anymore? Why you not crying?” more times than she should have to.
I’ve Cried ALOT!
I’ve sat and been a heaving weeping mess while they have watched on and they carry on like it’s completely normal, I’ve cried in the car driving to see friends or family and been able to pull myself together last minute but those kids, they knew I was a mess minutes before. I’ve been angry, heartbroken and neglectful to my children’s needs on those bad disgusting-ugly-crying-face days. I have screamed and yelled in frustration because dealing with my abuse as well as them is all too much that day.
I’ve said all the bad-bad words within the earshot of my children, I’ve thrown things always toys because they’re just so durable these days…am I right? I’ve been emotionally unstable and wanted to hurt myself randomly and thought about what dying might be like a handful of times. I’ve said “Mummy just needs a break right now” or “mummy is feeling sad and hurt right now” so many times I can’t even count.
Don’t Hide It!
But do you know what? I don’t feel bad or guilty or ashamed for subjecting my children to my raw emotion, I don’t hide it and I won’t because what happened to me, what happens to thousands of children every day is worth being a mess over some days.
I won’t hide my tears for them, I won’t hide my distress and anger when the detective tells me yet again my case is going now where due to lack of actual evidence.
It’s OK To Let It Out!
I will not apologise to them for sobbing on my husband’s shoulder at the Macca’s playground on a family day or at Gloria Jeans over a cappuccino because emotion is real and we all feel it, regardless of why it’s happening. I want them to know that when they grow up and shit gets real it’s ok to hurt, it’s ok to let it out because keeping it in is poison, it will manifest into a black ball of fiery death inside your body, it will swallow you whole, or burn you up.
Since I’ve been dealing with my raw and unedited emotions I can feel the difference in myself and in my soul, the ball is no longer black, it’s white and it’s bright and it’s begging, almost gagging to come out. It will, and I will allow it to burst out of my body and into my inner child’s soul wherever that may be, that inner child in me was held back from the same raw emotion that my children/demon spawn will be allowed to have. I will not suffocate their big ball of bright and shiny light. Not ever.
If I could be proud to know one thing I did right with my parenting, it would be that they grew up to know that it’s ok to cry and have a toddler sized tanty in the toy aisle when shit gets real.
Do you show your emotions in front of your children? Please share in the comments below.