onsdag 17 maj 2017

The ever ongoing story about life

And so, she panicked.

The reality right now was too much. Always problems, with money, with the kids, with all the conditions she had, with the pain and exhaustion. The kids themselves were no problem, but it killed her when they didn't feel well, when they were sad and depressed and nothing she did helped. There had been so many years. So many days. So many hours. She had hugged, listened, comforted. She had been to meetings in their schools, with doctors, psycologists. Working her ass off to make everything as good as possible. Constantly struggeling upphills. Like pissing against the wind.
And everytime she thought she could se something better in the future, when the future came, there was always something else. She had to defend her kids in front of school staff, headmasters, teachers, doctors and everyone. She had to care for them as all parents do. And she had to care for them so much more. She had to walk on the edge of a blade, breathing silently, in the upper part of the lungs, carefully threding to not fall down, or slice up her feet.
Her wonderful, beautiful children.
And also, her wonderful beautiful man.
Not the father of the kids. Sadly. But constantly mistreated, constantly getting squeezed between everybody and everything. Constantly helping, caring, loving her. Beeing there. There was nobody like him, nobody in the whole wide world.
She hated how she treated him. She hated how she was incapable to do the one thing he asked her too. And he didn't even ask for his own sake, but for hers. Because he ached when he saw how much pain it gave her. How much pain this person gave her. The father of her kids. The man who had taken over twenty years of her life, and continued to take, continued to hurt. And she couldn't cut him off. Because of the kids. It was years since the divorce, and she had been to therapy for many of them. And yet she couldn't cut him off. She couldn't even explain it herself, it just wasn't possible, yet. She was afraid, so afraid.
She tried to do things, like a million miniature cut offs. Maybe she was just fooling herself. But still.
The thoughts were rambling in her head, she felt tied up, bound, and not in a good way. What could she do, what could she DO, what COULD she do, WHAT.........

…...and so, she panicked.

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My blog links

My life in photos My old photoblog.

Living with the monkeyboys My old blog about the kids and their problems.

Explaining mental abuse My blog about mental abuse. I started it as a help for myself to work with all the remaining issues of my experience of this.

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