I’ll Find you in the Darkness.

I’ll find you in the darkness

I’ll shelter you from the storm

Travel far beyond the horizon

To keep your body warm.

You’ll find me in the darkness

You’ll carry me in the night

Set fire to the burdens

and keep our love alight.

I’ll find you in the darkness

I’ll keep you close to me

Walk hours till I reach you

and love you endlessly.

You’ll find me in the darkness,

You’ll turn my life around

To share a life together

In you my heart is bound.

download

Advertisements

The photo that broke a billion hearts.

https://secure.avaaz.org/en/no_more_drownings_loc/?ceTXJjb

Is a link to a petition to sign and prevent any more beautiful innocent children and babies from drowning with their families for a want of a better life. My days will be haunted for a long time after seeing little Aylan Kurdi’s body, laying lifelessly at the edge of the sea. As a mother, a woman and a member of this human race, it kills me to see these beautiful children losing their precious lives when we as a nation could be helping, protecting and even saving them.

Right now, I am ashamed of Britain. Our doors aren’t as open as other parts of Europe and I hang my head down low. I hope you all sign this and support the cause.

Rest in peace little ones. xxx

Aylan Kurdi and his brother Galip in photo provided by the Kurdi family.

Aylan and his brother in happier times

(photo courtesy of Reuters/Guardian)

Our demise – Part 2.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I realised I had ‘lost’ my husband. From the birth of our daughter he changed from being a supportive caring husband to a distant and depressed human being. We had decided that he would be in charge of putting baby to bed every day. He wanted to do it as he would be at work all day and would not see her but of course with this choice came responsibilities and promises. It came schedules and routines. It came remembering endless things that baby needed. Too many things for him.

Tired from work, he would enter the house. He would greet baby and take her upstairs. No Hello, no kiss, no acknowledgement of his wife. He would come back from one job and enter another. There were no questions about my day. He did not know that baby had been sick twelve times that day. He did not know that she had not kept down a single bit of milk or that I had not brushed my teeth that day. He did not know that I had cried several times that morning and that my ‘lunch’ consisted of two pieces of toast eaten over three hours. He did not know because he did not ask. For six months he did not ask. I was not myself for the first three months of my daughter’s life.

The doctors and health visitors had insisted that I should not take baby outside for at least seven weeks (until her due date). Out of panic and fear I listened to their advice and out of panic and fear, I only left the house five times in the space of three months. I could not leave without having a panic attack.

A few years back I had worked with babies in a day nursery; a job that I enjoyed very much. I gained a lot of ‘insider’ knowledge first hand and felt prepared for the future. However having my daughter seven weeks early threw every preparation I had into chaos. I will be the first to admit it – I struggled. I really battled through the first three months. My BDD (body dysmorphic disorder) seemed to be developing into a problem again. I felt frumpy, disgusting. I was angry I was unable to lose my baby weight. My confidence dropped.

My husband must have seen a change in me although he chose to ignore it. Instead he disappeared into himself, cutting himself off from me and only thinking of his own problems. I was shocked to find my caring husband grow into such a cold and detached human being. Christmas was a very unpleasant time for us. There had been a few incidents leading up to it where my husband had chosen himself over me and his baby. He had put his selfish needs first and begun leading a very separate life to mine. I discovered some real eye openers to the man he had become – a man I could not recognise. He wasn’t ashamed of his actions either although he managed to shed a few crocodile tears. I hate seeing him cry and not because it breaks my heart but because it’s the easy way out. Tears gain sympathy. He didn’t deserve that. His behaviour didn’t justify tears.

He chose to betray me in ways I find very hard to forgive.

He became cruel and nasty. A shadow of the man I once knew. He became defensive and verbally harmful, snapping and hurting. He became angry, aggressive and frightening. There were times I was truly scared. I hadn’t felt that kind of frightened since my Dad. That was the point I knew my marriage was over. The man I had once loved so deeply had reminded me of my Dad. He reminded me of what that abuse felt like. He reminded me what it felt like to feel small, neglected, alone. I vowed never to feel that way again and this man had succeeded in making it happen at a time that should have been the happiest in my life. I will never forgive him for that. NEVER.

The culmination of his abhorrent behaviour happened on my 33rd birthday. We, at this point, had no relationship. We barely talked to each other and if we did, it mostly referred to the baby. I was dreading my birthday. In past years, D had gone out of his way to make me feel special. He didn’t have to shower me with presents or do anything romantic, I was just treated very well that day – lots of cups of tea and putting my feet up kind of thing. He was thoughtful and considerate and I appreciated that.

This birthday was different. I asked him the day before, jokingly, if he had got me a card, fearing that he may have forgotten. I was right as he suddenly began to severely berate himself (something he had been doing often for the past months). He could have lied and said yes and then sneaked out later to get one. He could have made me feel like it was all okay out of kindness, out of thoughtfulness but my husband wasn’t like that any more. He’d rather wallow in his endless mistakes than make me feel better about a situation, than make the moment pass and move on after all, there were many times I brushed over his snide comments about me for an easier life. After the casual comment about the card, my husband was in a foul mood for the rest of the day. I put it behind me not wanting to ruin my actual birthday. I had stated I wanted a simple one.

Life was not easy with the baby and my confidence hadn’t returned but that did not mean I didn’t want my husband to not go to any effort. He had taken the day off work after all. Surely he was going to do something special? How wrong was I. The next morning I went into my baby’s room as she was cooing beautifully by herself. I lifted her out the cot and gave her some mummy kisses. My husband, groggy from his slumber, followed in. He made no eye contact nor spoke. I waited for the obligatory “Happy Birthday!” to fall from his lips. Instead, he yawned and sat on the bed in baby’s room.

“Don’t say happy birthday or anything please,” I remarked disappointed I had to remind him of what day it was.

“I was just going to!” He snapped.

Plenty of time had passed from when I had entered the room, it was clear he wasn’t planning on saying anything. Immediately I felt uncomfortable. He had chosen to snap at me at six in the morning really setting me up for what was about to come. Once downstairs with baby, D barely uttered two words to me. I felt incredibly uncomfortable and when my mum came in with a card I found it hard to show her any happiness. She knew something was wrong but it had got to the point where the son in-law she was once so close to had now become a very intimidating stranger to her. She watched him disrespect her daughter but of a want not to be shouted at or spoken to sarcastically (a trait my husband excels at) she often kept quiet. Their relationship remains on the brink even now.

Due to a hectic schedule with baby, I hadn’t given my husband any idea of the kind of present I had wanted or that I had even wanted one. Really I had hoped he didn’t need telling. I had hoped the man who always used to get it spot on would come through for me again. Instead, with my own money, I ordered a bag from a shopping site I like on-line and my husband ‘refunded’ me the money. It felt like my father all over again. My father never bought me presents for my birthday or Christmas as he never bothered to find out what I liked. He just handed me money (after negotiation) and then berated me when I spent it on something like shoes or bags. At his request and demand, I often ended up having to say a detailed explanation as to why I deserved a gift in the first place. After a while I begged him NOT to give me anything as I just couldn’t hack the events and interrogations that would follow.

I didn’t say anything that day to my husband when I opened the card I had told him to buy for me. I didn’t say anything when I read his meaningless message to me inside. I was too worried that if I said something his reaction would be far worse than his intent. Sadly, the rest of the day continued on that note. My husband decided to feel sorry for himself for most of it. Knowing that nothing was special and sensing how sad I was about it all, he decided to make me feel even worse by ignoring me. He couldn’t even try to make conversation with me. He just avoided me. I was distraught. What the hell was the point in taking the day off?! I could have gone out with my mum and baby for a nice lunch and had a great time. No, my selfish husband instead made the whole day about him.

It all blew up in the afternoon when over a late lunch I voiced my disappointment. To many, I’m probably sounding like a needy drama queen but my husband had made a big deal of my birthday in the weeks leading up to it. He gave me the impression that I would have a nice day organised by him. When in fact I spent the day looking after baby (as normal), depressed because my husband was ignoring me and scared of what explosion was going to happen later. As soon as I uttered the words, D blew up. Shouting, aggressive, storming off all in front of baby. I left her with her grandma and followed him into the living room.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you doing this?” are the types of questions I could not avoid asking.

He paced the floor furiously and I realised the day would be ruined for good. He could not break from his anger, his rage and disappointment in himself had encased him. Seeing red he tried to push past me in order to leave the house. I wouldn’t let him pass for two reasons; one, I did not want my mother and baby to see him so agitated, it really was very frightening but to me, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before in a man and two, I was angry at this nasty person for wanting to storm out on me on my birthday! He gets to leave but I don’t. I have responsibilities even on my birthday and no amount of rage will make me leave my child. The day dragged on as my husband remained in his solemn, distant state. We did not utter a single word to each other for the rest of the day.

Until the evening, when at dinner, I just couldn’t keep my upset inside any longer. I lost it. I cried and shouted as loud as I could without disturbing our baby. I was distraught. Never had I experienced a day like it. Even the abuser attempted to make my birthdays a little pleasant. My husband however couldn’t even do that. I knew something was wrong in him, something quite serious was happening to him. He had become a monster and I was frightened. That night he made me frightened. I never imagined my timid, sweet husband who once loved me so much would make me frightened.

How do you draw a line under that? How do you accept his promise to change?

You can’t. I live day to day now concious that he might fall back into his destructiveness, fearing that he might become distant. He had a course of CBT (cognitive behaviour therapy) as communication was not something he ever did and it seems to have helped. It has taken nearly five months for me to even ‘like’ him again. He is trying, I can see that but every now and again I see glimpses of the cruelness and I begin to panic. I do not want a marriage where I fear my husband. I do not want a marriage where I am always anticipating his bad reactions, his anger, his spite. I cannot say I am hopeful. I can only say that I can see things more clearly now. I will not continue a charade of a marriage to please other people. I will not force a love that does not exist. If we are meant to be, then we’ll get through this. If he values the life we’ve built then he will change. I know I need to change too……if I can.

There’s a lot of ifs………… But no buts.

The Never-Ending Story.

Nothing to do with the film but everything to do with the story of my life.

A few months ago, I made a conscious decision to stop blogging about past, to focus on the happier things occurring in my life. Blessed with the news of the pregnancy, it seemed like a new start. A chance where I could finally look to the future. My father is no longer a problem physically yet his ever-controlling presence sadly still exists.
I am yet to see a penny of my inheritance as I approach the two year anniversary of his death. To make matters worse as I am still residing with my mother, I still have to endure the daily torture of passing my old abuser’s home every day to work and back.

This is something sadly I have grown accustomed to this past year however it annoys me slightly that the new owners have already moved in and re-decorated, moving forward with their lives and I am stuck waiting, without news, on a chance to move forward with mine.

Surprisingly, that I can deal with.

The real upset is my sister.

I have always said to David, to my friends, that one day soon she would begin to etch herself back into my mother’s life and today we discover she is continuing her journey back to our mum.

It all began last year on Boxing Day when my mother received a card from her. Slowly, over the year, she has found new ways to find an avenue to return. It is never consistent. Instead, every few months she re-appears and toys with her mother’s emotions. An opportunity allowed itself in April. A chance appeared by natural where she could have easily re-entered the family ‘fold’. However, it was her choice to reject that chance when I attempted to call her and inform my only sister that I was pregnant.

She would not allow it. She just would not speak to me and the sweet, innocent news was broken to her by email. Yes, I did not hold back either. I felt at that point, it was within my right to tell her a few home truths about her. Many, many times over many many years have I listened to her tell me my faults and I have always bitten my tongue in reference to her. Mostly out of fear to awaken the beast inside. Her anger has always been terrifying (at times worse than his). However, I am a thirty two year old woman and she is forty for crying out loud. Perhaps it is time to reflect on the reasons why you are so estranged from your family? We NEVER walked away from you.

Many would ask why it bothers me that my sister is back in contact?

Let me make it clear – she is not back in contact with me. Only my mother. Cards on her birthday only. Letters only addressed to her. Did she congratulate me on my good news? No. Has she mentioned the baby when writing to our mother? No. Her intentions are very clear. She wants my mother back only. NOT me.

Well let me make my intentions clear.

I will not go through it again. I will not participate in any mind games. I refuse to be controlled. You may think your trusted strategy will bring you great success again, after all it worked so well with our father. I cannot speak for our mother. I do not know what you intend to use for your advantage this time. Will it be the tried and tested emotional tactic of using the grandchildren? Or perhaps the fact that you’ve suddenly realised you ‘need’ a mother figure in your life again? Just hurry up and make up your mind.

To be honest, if you really wanted to move forward you would not be pushing me aside. Hurt does not even cover it. You abandoned both your parents yet offered your love back to them like nothing had happened. Yet that love has never been offered to me.

Just say it. You wish I’d never come along don’t you?

I look at my friends and people on Facebook sharing photos of their sisters and I’m jealous. After all these years, I’m still jealous.

At least it proves one thing.

I have a heart.

Maya Angelou – An Inspiration.

Such a sad day to hear the news of the passing of a beautiful, good hearted, inspirational woman. My thoughts go to her family and the countless people she has touched throughout the world. Her inspiring and uplifting attitude moves even the hardest of people. Hardship and suffering were turned into positive words in order to help others. A civil rights activist, poet, leader, writer, woman.

Goodbye gentle soul.

Goodbye.

“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.”

“Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.”

“We may encounter many defeats but we must not be defeated.”

*Courtesy of Google*

Dear Sister. Part 2.

Dear Sister.

Things could have been so different. Things should have been so different. There are so many unanswered questions and too long a wait to find any answers. I can never understand it, why you went back to him. I do realize how you lost your father figure but it was your decision. You made your choice as an adult, it was based on clear evidence and truth. You saw him through realistic eyes, you weren’t under his spell.

So what happened?

It was your choice to cut our mother from your life too. Do you regret that also? Will you appear on her doorstep one day wanting to reconcile and forget the past? Life is nothing but a game to you. You play with it so freely and we, the pawns get so easily cast aside. I know you will be back, perhaps not in my life but certainly in hers. You have already started. Why can you not just pick up the phone and speak to her? Every choice and action is so cryptic with you.

My father was a bad man. You knew that. He abused the three of us. Knowingly and under no pretense, you let him back into your life. You became close to the man who mentally tortured me for twelve years. You allowed him to be a grandfather to the children you won’t allow your sister to see. How can you justify your actions? What lies are you telling your children? They see their grandfather as a wonderful man but have no recollection of the aunt that once spent so much time with them. I bathed, nurtured and loved my nephew and you have used my love for him against me. It’s disgusting.

Were you brainwashed?

No.

You fell into that relationship very happily. You welcomed him back didn’t you. Did everything just fall into place as though he had never gone? You made him very happy. The prodigal daughter had returned. Not a moment went by where he didn’t mention you. How pleased you made him. Seemingly, it was a match made in heaven. The two of you were destined to become close, like father like daughter eh? It takes one to know one and all that. Perhaps there is some truth in that.

I can’t move forward from it until you say why.

You told me to speak to someone the day I opened up to you. The day you phoned asking for money for his funeral flowers from the girl he emotionally abused. You told me to get help, to offload onto to someone more professional. Even then, you couldn’t step up as an older sister. Even then, you remained selfish, high up on your pedestal. All you had to do was listen and you couldn’t do that.

How many times have I had to listen to you? The anger, the hate, the endless tirades at life. You were a very difficult person and from recent events I have no proof to justify a change in yourself.

How can you be so polite over email yet when it comes to the simple request that you answer your phone to talk to me about something important, you immediately assume I am playing games with you?

Apparently, in your eyes, it was wrong of me to expect my sister to want to hear my good news. Most people tell their family they are pregnant face to face, at very least over the phone. However, with you, it was always going to be a problem. Everything that could be so simple becomes a problem. What makes you so special that you can vet your phone calls? Are you a celebrity? No.

There was nothing “alarming” about my email to you as you so strangely put it.

So why did you proceed to harass our mother? There was no implication in my letter to you that it had anything to do with her! Funnily enough sister, I do not play those kinds of games with people. We are not all like you. To add insult to injury, your irrational conclusions were nothing to do with me! Not once did you ask if I was okay! It’s equally ludicrous and laughable.

I just wanted to tell my only sister that I was pregnant.

I feel we have come to a dead end.

I cannot fight a losing battle anymore. I am tired. Ultimately, you have won. Yet, the war you are winning is sad. It’s sad for you. My love never stopped but yours ended a long time ago.

I know that now.

Closer to Home.

I saw this clip last night and it really resonated. Seeing a little girl leading a normal life only to have it turned upside down in one quick heartbeat is quite sad. Unfortunately, this is the case for many children all over our planet struggling with the dramatic and soul destroying changes that affect them when it comes to war and disasters. The Syrian Crisis, Afghanistan and the growing crisis in Ukraine are filled with innocent children who do not deserve the life they are having to endure. Our hearts and thoughts belong with them. Please support Save The Children.