127 Days to go!

WEEKS: 22 and counting!

BUMP: No change from the last couple of weeks although the comments from strangers and parents at work are beginning to make me feel slightly whale-like (!)

CRAVINGS: Heinz Tomato Soup, white bread, blackberries, cherries, Wagamamas (a Japanese noodle restaurant)

CURRENT HEALTH: Below average, after suffering from a head cold and cough this weekend. It’s still persisting with a rotten, dry and irritating cough sitting comfortably on my chest and playing with my Asthma. Not. Happy.

MOVEMENT: Still little flutters now and again. No significant kicks but only on week 22 now. Reacts to certain music e.g. Adele, The Bangles and recently discovered – Motown.

SIZE: Baby is now apparently the size of a large Papaya and roughly the length of a standard ruler.

SYMPTOMS: Annoying leg cramps first thing in the morning aren’t fun. No back ache yet. Slight carpal tunnel occurs frequently in my right arm and wrist, that is possibly the most uncomfortable thing going on at the moment. Loss of appetite at lunch still happens. Bad sleeping – but possibly due to head cold. Will wait that one out.

COMING UP: 5 WEEK SCHOOL HOLIDAY!!!!! 2 weeks to go. I CANNOT wait.

What are you afraid of?

I fear many things. I wish I was more daring and able to take more risks. I used to be able to especially as a child. Fear was something I lacked. I spoke my mind and challenged bad things, I defended myself and took emotional risks. I let myself fail believing that there was a lesson to learn from it. 

Fear grew quite quickly. By my teenage years I was becoming more afraid. I had been criticized by my mother and sister for being selfish and self-centered as a young child. The world revolved around me apparently. I was a confident child being punished for living life. Soon, the fear came. 

During the divorce and the pressures of choice, I feared everything. Outwardly, my family saw a show. I appeared to be calm and in control but mentally I was failing. I knew I was about to make the wrong decision but in fear of becoming targeted and bullied for even thinking it, I went with my father. It was, in my mind, the easiest thing to do. I had backed myself into a corner that could not be further from my mother and sister; we were practically strangers. I had to go with him and I was scared to do it. I did not know that he would be the man they said he was but I had my doubts. I had the fear. There was the possibility. 

My fears magnified when living with my father. they became embedded in me. Not only was I clearly petrified of him, I became a shadow of the girl I once was. To me, I was no longer myself. I was a nobody. 

Rejection.

I fear this still as an adult. I am married and I don’t feel it with my husband luckily. I do feel it in most walks of life especially with friends. I try to avoid it when I can, rarely asking anything of anyone. I thought I could depend on my father, he always told me I could but each time I confided in him or asked for anything, my request was rejected and berated. I have been rejected recently by some people, people I still see. One in particular I took as being a close friend but she has recently, within the last year, decided I am not worth her time. I do not know what happened as there was no explanation yet she continues to smile and play nice. I allow her to do it. I refuse to “chase” her and mend what was clearly already a broken friendship.

Criticism.

I often wait to be critiqued and devalued by people. I expect criticism. I fear it immensely. It is my biggest insecurity yet something I cannot confront.

Tempers.

I fear fights and aggression, I try to stay out of it but sometimes it cannot be avoided. I cannot stand someone raising their voice at me, it frightens me. I hate it. It only brings back every time my father did it. How he used his volume to belittle and demean me. 

Death.

Unbelievably, not my own. I often think about dying. I don’t think I am going to live very long. David hates it when I talk like that but to me it’s a matter of fact. I fear my mother dying. It is, at the moment, my greatest fear. I think about it a lot. She is 70 now and I have begun predicting how long I will have her for. When I speak to her I worry it’ll be the last time. I cry nearly every time after the phone has been put down. It took us so long to get a normal, loving relationship, I feel as though all those years fighting a pointless battle were wasted. Time has disappeared and I may not have her for long. I am angry at my sister for what she has done to her. My mother is a shell of the woman she once was. I know in many ways she resents her life. I hate that she feels like that. I fear the day when I won’t be able to hug my mother. Her touch immediately soothes me, her voice calms me, her little idiosyncrasies make me laugh. I don’t want them to be memories yet.

Fear stifles our thinking and actions. It creates indecisiveness that results in stagnation. I have known talented people who procrastinate indefinitely rather than risk failure. Lost opportunities cause erosion of confidence, and the downward spiral begins.
Charles Stanley 

Look at him.

I don’t often write poetry. I leave that to my mother – it’s her passion.

However, occasionally it is the only way to portray how you feel. You can find no prose can do that. Only poetry.

Here he is

Just look at him now

That haunted face and tragic eyes

His pretentious stance and lying smile

Just look at him. I can’t.

I can’t look at him

And search for the love he massacred

The truth he corrupted

The stolen protection

Just look at him

What he did to me

The soul he destroyed

The heart he bruised with his malicious words.

Just look at him and tell me –

Is he the man you thought he was?

Gentle, generous and kind

Or hateful, hurtful and cruel

Just look at him.

How does he make you feel?

Repelled, repulsed and desperate to leave

Hurt and betrayed

A stranger to the world

Just look at him

See the truth

See the misery, see the stress,

Look into his lifeless, rotten heart

Look into the lies and the horror

The anger he felt.

Look at him

Witness it

Here he is

The man I hate

The man who hated me.

Look at him

Can you find it?

The love for his daughter

The want for her happiness

The ache for her success

What do you see?

Look at him

He rages at me

He sees failure

A filthy creature with vile ideas,

A worthless animal with the coldest heart,

A nothing with no one to love her,

 

Look at me. Just look at me.