What everybody else sees.

It’s very difficult to live with someone who appears to be something they’re not. I’ve lived my whole life with a variation of these sorts of people.

Life is hard at the moment. Take out my wonderful daughter who gives me nothing but pleasure and I’m left with many dilemmas.

I suppose I have to be cryptic but whoever they are will clearly know when I describe my current situation.

What do you do when you lose communication? When you feel like you can’t access the people you rely on, the people who are supposed to be by your side. In recent years, I have felt very much alone. My support system is crumbling. The people who were once so strong are now so distant and guarded. It happened gradually only revealing itself fully late last year. When I myself was having to deal with the trauma of giving birth seven weeks early and coping with being a mother way before I had expected. Not only that, but my precious daughter remained in hospital, trying to thrive and I had no certainty of when she would be home with her mummy.

I needed support. Someone to be there for me.

Instead I am forgotten. My struggles are forgotten and this past eight months have felt incredibly lonely.

I don’t really talk any more to anyone. Friends know what they need to know. I’m used to hiding. It’s almost like a second skin. I did it for twelve years with my father. Friends I did tell never fully grasped the extent of his abuse. People tend to look for the good in others. It’s natural but not everyone is good. My father was a very bad man. There were no excuses for his actions. They weren’t a result of anything. He was how he was because he chose to be that way.

We all have choices. Life is a series of them. I’ve made some really bad ones in my past. I chose to stand by my father, through the abuse and allowed him to treat me abhorrently. All because I longed for my father’s love. A love that never was.

Now I hold onto hope once again. It’s a bad trait. One I wish I didn’t have. One that holds me back and makes me weak.

I will always cling to hope. A hope that one day I can be strong again, find myself and be able to do it alone if I needed to.

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The struggles of being back home.

As much I love being back home with my mum, there is no doubt that I have changed over the years and more importantly matured. Since living solely with David, my husband, for the last three years, I have my own ways and habits. Of course, changes have to be made when you live in someone else’s environment but currently, I have to say I am struggling. It’s amazing having her back from India but my mother seems to have taken several steps back from when she initially left.

Arguments have begun and annoyances are raw. It is almost as though we hadn’t lived together for two months before her holiday. David and I cleaned the entire house, top to bottom, over the weekend before she arrived. Yet when she returned she immediately found fault in almost every room. I wish we hadn’t bothered! I know and understand that she has the right to want things her way, it is her house but a little bit of appreciation would have gone a long way especially when she knows the amount of stress I have been under recently.

It is hard to be open with her without fear of her becoming upset or worse: defensive. I cannot stand having to justify every word that leaves my mouth if I ever need to show criticism. Yet when it comes to criticising me, it comes so natural to her. If I do ever answer back then I am being provocative or dramatic and anger her further.

I’m not sure why my family expect me to be so passive?

Perhaps it is easier for them to have a robotic daughter/sister with no emotions or brain.

Don’t get me wrong. I love her very much and I know that this is a bit of a rant. I just need to vent. After all, I cannot tell her how I feel right now, I just don’t want the tension.