When is enough, enough?

Since September 2014 when my now ex husband left abruptly at a time when we were supposed to be working on our issues and kept me guessing and more than a little confused by staying in my life and telling me he still loved me and wanted to be around me my life has been, well, I don’t even have a word for it.

Dear Husband left in September, with me holding the can so to speak.  In March 2015 he suggested we get divorced and because I knew if I didn’t do anything nothing would get done I went to the regional court and initiated proceedings.  Fortunately because there weren’t any children involved and there was pretty much no assets to divide it was a straight-forward, mutually agreed case so we didn’t need to go through lawyers and the High Court.  The matter was over and done in about two months through the regional court with the thing taking the longest being waiting for our court hearing date.  On the day it took longer to wait our turn than what it took me to stand in front of the magistrate and tell him I was satisfied with the settlement agreement and the terms of the divorce and for him to stamp and sign it off.  Just like that almost 7 years of marriage was over.

Fast forward to August 2015 just after I had surgery and was still in recovery for the most part and what was an amicable, friendly relationship suddenly came to a halt with a begrudging admission that he wanted a clean break as I was unwilling or unable to choose between him and my mother.

I broke.

I broke into so many tiny pieces that I despaired that I would ever be whole again.

Nobody was more surprised than I at this development, who knew a man you no longer loved, whose relationship with you was over long before he even moved out, could break you in ways you never knew it was possible to be broken.  But break I did.  Slowly but surely, with the love and support of friends and family the pieces started coming back together again and just when things were kind of feeling okay-ish my mom fell and broke her hip and arm.

Due to the clerical error of the night duty admissions clerk at Garden City hospital they refused to admit my mom and she was sent to Helen Joseph hospital, a facility that I would not take a stray, rabid dog to, never mind a human being.  My mother lay there from 10pm the Saturday night to some time after 8am Monday morning before a doctor even saw her.  Garden City had transferred her with a drip in but the drip was laying on the bed next to her, she was not able to drink anything unassisted and the staff at Helen Joseph refused to let my stay with her because it was a “patients only” area, never mind that the patient didn’t know her own name, where she was or what had happened.  Thursday afternoon, after much emailing, phoning, crying and praying Discovery finally got the mess sorted out and transferred her back to Garden City where she went straight into high care for stabilising.   Hip replacement surgery on Sunday 20th and then months of rehab in the step down facility and finally shoulder replacement towards the end of December.  Another few weeks in the step down and then home.  Yay!  Then she fell again in May this year.  Nothing too serious, some bumps and bruises later but nothing broken.  But now there is an endless litany of ooh, aah, ouch, eina, help.  Coupled with what I believe to be early stages of dementia or something similar, I can honestly say I understand why children abandon their elderly parents in old age homes or similar facilities and institutes.

I get up at 5am, make her coffee that she doesn’t drink, leave for work before 6am to fight my way through northbound traffic on the N3 to go to work (where I don’t know if I will still have a job come end of June or not), fight my way back home through the same traffic, cook, wash dishes, make her lunch for the next day, pack my food for the next day – all the while to the background soundtrack of ooh, aaah, ouch, eina, help – try and unpack too many boxes into a too small space and hear how she used to do it in 3 days when we used to move.

Add to this the uncertainty of whether or not my contract will be extended beyond end June 2016 and if not how soon will I be able to find a job or get my own thing off the ground to a stage where it can support us and some days I am amazed that I am not abusing a substance of some sort, drugs, alcohol, both.

Who’s the real deadbeat?

There are two unmarried dads in my current circle and both are having issues with their respective ex’s and access to their kids.  Now I will say upfront that I don’t have kids of my own and I don’t know what it’s like to have my own kids.  However, I do reserve the right to have an opinion on the matter as it does touch my life and this morning while sitting in traffic and pondering certain recent events there was a deep, empty ache where my heart should have been.  It brought tears to my eyes.

Whatever did or didn’t happen between you and your man, he is still your baby’s daddy and every child needs his or her dad.  I can’t fathom the woman that uses her child as a pawn and weapon against an ex-husband or boyfriend.  You loved him enough once (I hope) to have a child with him, something that creates a lifelong bond between you whether you like it or not.  If that child was as a result of a one-night stand or a casual encounter then shame on you for not taking precautions.  Either way, you have brought a new life into being and carry a responsibility towards that life.

Now I can already hear the haters hating on what I have just said and I know that nothing is ever that simple or clear cut but ladies, consider this:  unless your ex is a murderer, rapist or is abusive and there is a real risk of physical or emotional danger to the child, who suffers the most?

Do you really think your child doesn’t remember their dad, miss their dad, want to spend time with their dad?  The step dad may be super awesome but there is never a substitute for ‘my real dad’.  Are you ready to answer questions one day about why you saw fit to keep your child from their father?  Those questions will come one day, it is inevitable.

Enter the new woman in the dad’s life.  What happens then?  Isn’t it easier and more conducive to an all-round healthy relationship for everyone concerned to try and get to know the woman before you use that too as a stick with which to beat your ex?  She may be a wonderful person who will help and support you with raising your little angel.  Not all step moms are from hell, some really are good people and you would know that if you bothered to get to know her first.

I have the utmost respect for those moms out there who can take a step back, take the hurt and anger out of the situation and allow their kids to see their dads despite all the shit and drama that went down.  The relationship between you and him didn’t work out but the relationship between father and child is just as sacred as the one between mother and child and I salute those of you who are wise and mature enough to see and realise that and can put your hurt to one side and put the needs of the child above your own.

Human relationships are a veritable minefield and we can only ever do the best we can with what we’ve got but when we know better we should do better.  Children learn what they live and if they grow up in an environment of hate and anger what type of adults will they grow into.

There is no judgement here, just sadness.

 

Disclaimer – take 2

So I managed to delete the first one…here goes take two!

The idea of this blog has been floating around in my mind for the last while and I have not really known how to get started, so today I decided just start, enough with the procrastinating and just start.  So I am starting.

The purpose of this blog purely is an outlet for my sometimes insane and sometimes obscure and sometimes completely off the rails thoughts and emotions.  If nobody else ever reads a single word that is written here that’s okay.  The purpose of these ramblings are purely for my sanity, an outlet for when things become too much.  There may be profanity, there may be some very strange thoughts and strong opinions.  You have been warned.  Read at your own risk.