Archive for the ‘Oh woe is poor little me’ Category

Well. I finally put my money where my mouth is and have booked and paid for two tickets to the UK in June/July next year.

By coincidence, it is 9 months away. The same time as the gestation period for a new human life.

I’ve been in contact with my little brother around dates and us planning him taking leave while I am there.

I am grateful I’ve been in contact with him before hand as he’s let me in on some goings on that I have not been aware of.

Over the years, I have built up a victim fantasy that my little brother (he’s 40 actually so he is not that little) and my Sperm Donor Dad have a wonderful relationship and poor little me (by means of immigration to South Africa) has lost out on my father’s love.

I was the daughter that got away. The one that would be close to my Dad. I thought we may be similar. And somewhere deep in my heart I felt we would connect. What with him owning a motorbike company and me riding a bike.

Ah…….but this is the wonderful DVD box set that I have built up in my mind. Where I am stage centre victim and there is a happy ending in a cloud of bike exhaust fumes

Little brother has filled me in on the difficulties around his past and present relationship with my Dad and summarises as ” Dad has pissed off most of the people in his life and abandoned all of his children at one point or another. He needs a good kick in the bollocks”.

Little brother – last we spoke – was not sure he even wanted to include Sperm Donor Dad in his life anymore due to past hurts, let downs and all round bad parenting skills.

*Poof* there goes the fantasy. 30 plus years *poof* all in one go.

I have 9 months to lower my expectations of my Dad down to ground zero. 9 months for it to sink in.

I always thought the reunion after 20 years would be the nail in my healing coffin and I could lay to rest most of my abandonment issues, but it would appear I will just have to be facing up to the reality that my Dad is human. And a fickle one at that !

monotony

Feeling in a low space lately.

I just feel there is nothing exciting or stimulating on the horizon.

Except for a steam train local trip booked for a Sunday in November – and far off plan somewhere late next year to visit long lost brother – there is nothing planned for the rest of the year. Hell bells, for the rest of my life !

The weeks seem to fall into each other. A droning monotony of getting up, ferrying Teenie to school, going to work, fetching Teenie (who looks and acts like she would rather pull all her eyelashes out that spend even a minute with me) going home, cooking a meal (with some hidden veggies in for Teenie) and going to sleep.

All the while this being watched by an unappreciative teenage audience who is only too happy to point out my evident and imagined flaws on a minute to minute basis.

A sober Grounds Hog Day (did you see the movie back in the day?)

Having my own problems with having a positive outlook on life – I seem to have bred a miserable teenager. Trying to remain upbeat and chipper is a battle of my own, but add in a vortex of teenage misery and hormones – it’s a daily challenge.

It seems nothing I do is right in the eyes of Teenie. I feels like I have barely got my head around my overly critical parents and I am – minute by minute – faced with a critical teenager.

On the upside, I do realise that I feel so un-inspired and stimulated because I function well under chaos of any kind.

And now that chaos is gone.

Particular favourites being dating unsuitable men, moving around alot, rebellious behaviour such as partying and drinking when I should be a responsible parent/adult/employee/person/partner/driver and all the resultant drama and chaos that can follow – Porra being mad at me because I got drunk, feeling embarrassed because of getting drunk at the work party, worrying about what I said or did, passing out at my own birthday party after it had barely started, driving drunk, having hazy suppers out with Teenie’s grandparents.

All those actions and repercussions took up alot of energy. Like a survival mode. And now that I am not throwing my energy into those men, moving, drinking, being on the water wagon, drinking again and mopping up emotional messes – I feel lost.

I have lost the craziness that used to light that fire under my ass and keep me going. Dare I say, I like being abit crazy ass. It gave me a personality or more so that was my personality I hung on to. It gave me excitement, it gave me zing, it gave me a life.

For so many years, I was another persona with alcohol and the associated life that goes with it.

I see other fellow’s gratitudes or people’s Facebook posts and updates, and I think, hell, how did they get so happy, fulfilled and content. Where am i going wrong ?

Take away all those behaviours I had and I don’t know who I am.

tomatoe

Porra and I rarely fight, but today we are not on speaking terms. Well. That is not entirely correct. I am on speaking terms with him, but he is not on speaking terms with me. The joy of BBM and what’s app and whatnot is that you can see when someone has seen your message, but chosen not to respond.

I was in a single parents group therapy session after work yesterday from 5pm – 6:30pm. Being anally prepared, I had beforehand already gone to the shops and got the evenings supplies of bread, milk and chocolate. So they were ready in the boot so I could get a cold Teenie home straight after the meeting. It ends rather late and she is already stroppy enough about sitting in the waiting room for me for an hour and fifteen minutes without another half hour shopping expedition thereafter. Supper was ready in the fridge. Just needed a burst in the microwave to warm it up.

A favourite day because Beauty the Domestic Goddess had visited in the day and cleaned beautifully and probably made the house smell as good and clean and fresh as it can ever get.

Just before the meeting I get a message that Porra is going to grace my home with his presence.

Now. I don’t like sudden changes or people throwing curve balls into my schedule. Porra’s schedule is not to come to my house on a Tuesday, but a Wednesday.

Bottom line. I am in a bad mood and – after I have done my mothering for the day – I just want to be left alone on the couch watching crap British soapies, sucking on my Twisp and my chocolate alternatively.

I am not in the mood for Porra making a mess in the newly clean kitchen and moaning about my choice of TV.

Sitting in the meeting – my phone is on vibrate – I can hear my handbag shaking like a jelly on a trampoline. Sigh !

My head starts to get angry. I know Porra has forgotten where I am. I know Porra is phoning to find out where I am.

The irritated part of me (not the lovng and tolerant persona I am trying to aspire to) thinks “for fecks sake. Just let me have a session in peace !!!”.

After the meeting – on checking my phone. Sure as dammit, there are missed calls and various messages with a final plea to please bring tomato paste home.

My knee jerk reaction (and the one I wihtout a thought followed) was to reply “No. I have already been to the shops before the meeting. Teenie and I have supper in the fridge”

I arrived home to WW III with Porra shouting loudly that getting a tin of tomato paste was on my way (it wasn’t) and Porra does this for me and that for me, I am a bitch, I am selfish and yadda yadda blah blah fishpaste.

I do realise I was a tad selfish and could have gone and got him a tin for his supper, but – you know what – at the time – I did not take kindly to this curve ball in my schedule and him just pitching up at the last moment when his schedule allowed and demanding I go back to the shop for the third time of the day. It was not a demand at the time, but by not following the instruction it has turned into a command that I did not follow (gettit ?!)

I said sorry about 20 times and agreed yes I was selfish. I’ve left it at that. We had a few fake conversations during the evening (i.e. I spoke, he grunted) and we slept in the same bed together (not touching of course!)

I sent him a kissing smiley this morning and a question mark. Which was read, but not responded to (thank you what’s app for your technology!)

I would usually get all disturbed about it, but I have learnt that I’ve done my best to make amends and make things right and the rest just needs time. I cannot hurry up the peace making alone.

Giving me the silent treatment is passive aggression and immature.

Let’s see how this pans out.

Fear of Missing Out

Posted: November 17, 2012 in Anxiety, Oh woe is poor little me

A friend diagnosed me to the tee today. She knows me better than I do. I know I have the FOMO syndrome. I always think that my friends/Porra/the cats/the domestic/the neighbours are all having a fabulous happy life and somehow left me behind and forgotten about me. That I am alone in the world.

To me silence is not golden. A quiet cellphone is not a blessing. It signals everyone else is just too fucking busy being happy.

This became very apparent to be recently when I hadn’t heard much from a good friend for a couple of months. The logical side of my brain knows, but conveniently forgets the fact that she is a) married b) has two children c) has – in the last six months – bought a retail shop that is open seven days a week. Mostly until 7pm each night d) her elderly mother has been recently widowed and relies on her plenty.

I know all of these things, but my emotional brain thinks she is super content and carrying on a champagne squilling, Lindt ball scoffing, socially packed life without me. Because…..I’m not worth it. I admit I have had a good cry about it on a few occassions.

When I did eventually hook up with said friend, the true story is that she’s been battling her own shit and probably has an equal amount of shit on her plate as I do.

Silence from friends means I go off into my head jumping to the wrong  conclusion about me and what I mean to them or is there room for me in said friends life. Sounds very self centred I know. It really is just a really crap self esteem.

I don’t necessary want to be out living it up at fancy smancy restaurants or being at functions all the time. The Fear of Missing Out feelings I feel are more along the emotionally abandoned genre. That I crave the feeling of being liked and loved and wanted. I don’t care if we play Snap ! and have coffee  and a ciggie. It’s the emotional connection that I FOMO about. Not wanting  to feel left out because I’m not good enough.

The feeling of FOMO comes and goes. I don’t feel it all the time. If I am feeling happy and contented and connected to people, a visit to Facebook will not “hurt” me………. but I’m feeling abandoned, bored, lonely and sorry for myself, Facebook is not the place for me to be trawling !

As a matter of self-help investigation, I googled “Fear of Missing Out” and there’s is plenty of information on  it and why Facebook et al makes it worse.

But googling “Cure for Fear of Missing Out” yields a big fat zero.

Anyone got the cure ?! Please share.

Wine would probably work. Because then you don’t give a shit what anyone else is up to.

Dear adult child Blog….addiction blog….sexual healing blog…..whatever you are..

Apologies I have been a bad inadequate blog parent.

I haven’t spent enough time with you lately.

It’s not that I haven’t thought about you ! I’ve missed you and thought about you often. I have had many a post in my head that didn’t make onto your front page.

Plenty has happened and not really happened.

On the parenting side, Tweenie is now a Teenager. So she will have to be renamed – for the purposes of this blog – to Teenie. Porra has gainful employment. Alas mostly in other provinces ! So I am back to being a single parent during the week and sometimes on the weekend too. Some times he is away for a few days, sometimes for a week and sometimes for three weeks at a time.

I am reminded how difficult and lonely being a single parent can be .

Porra’s and I’s relationship is going well. Very comforting and easy. Not much work involved. With him traveling and working away a lot, he is not a ball of energy or excitement when at home. This has me moaning about him belonging to boringman.com. His preferred mode of daily home entertainment is to collapse in a heap on the brown leather couch clutching the satellite remote whilst filling me in on the gripping subject of plastering. And lunging towards me sexually when I feel I hardly know him……

Whilst I understand he is tired, I’ve been waiting for him to come home and provide some entertainment and a break from the old routine……….which is not forthcoming.

<Single mums need to sit on said couch clutching said remote when little ones are asleep. Either that or reading is the method of nightly entertainment>.

Whilst I understand that him being “boring” is better than me chasing him down at some pool hall or biker bar (been there, got that t-shirt), I still – at times – miss the diversity that was part of my old single life. Variety being the spice of life and all that. Long term relationships aren’t full of variety. Which has its pros and cons.

In terms of AA and goodbye vino, I got an AA sponsor as is the no 1 suggestion. For those of you not au fait with the workings of AA…..this is someone in the fellowship who has more sobriety under their belt than you. Like a sober guide. They help you and guide you through the steps. Well, if there is a Hitler in AA, she would be it and I managed to find her.

The minimum requirement of me was four AA meetings a week. Any other meetings or therapy did not count. Prayer and meditation and readings of the Big Book every morning and written step work in the evenings.

I did bleat at every sponsor meeting that it was impossible for me to fulfill the meeting requirements. That I had a relationship to attend to as well as being an often single mom. The answer was that everyone including Porra and Teenie should put my soberness first. I already had long standing commitments to two other meeting/therapy a week so add that on the AA deal and I would be out 6 times a week. A really really impossible feat for me.

As I left our sponsor meeting, I would be reminded to “email me your meeting schedule”. That – to me – wiped out anything I had been saying. I was not being heard.

I felt a failure before I’d even got out the door. I could feel tears in my eyes often at sponsor meetings. I got up to about 40 days sober and attended a birthday celebration. I had one glass of wine. I came clean with my sponsor who suggested I start back at day 1 again. Of course I understand this, but I felt so deflated and not good enough.

The people that can attend many meetings seem to be revered by AA Hitler. I would probably be living a clean and completely sober life if I could get to daily meetings, but I can’t. I have other responsibilities.

I bailed on AA. I know self will alone does not stop someone drinking. Hells bells I’ve tried that. I do attend open meetings when I can when Porra is in town. These are meetings for any interested parties and not just the alcoholic themselves.

With Porra away, I have Teenie 24/7 and cannot get to any meetings. Teenie is also very up my ass and in the middle of end of year exams. To say I am claustrophobic and have cabin fever is the understatement of the decade. She’s a teenager who sneers hatred to me one minute and is up my ass, because of her own fears and insecurities, the next. I’ve barely got over having over critical parents and now I belong to an over critical teenager !!!

She sleeps in my bed when Porra is away, she refuses to let me get a babysitter to I can go to a meeting……she even wanted to come into the doctor’s rooms today when I went to see my GP !

<As we speak, she has just called me from downstairs where she is studying to check I am here!>

I admit last night I escaped to my neighbours house and had three glasses of wine. We stay in a townhouse complex. So if Teenie needed me it was a simple matter of opening the door and knocking on the next door.

I came back home an hour later and got a whole guilt trip on why I had been so long with the granny next door (because there was wine probably!).

My phone had 4 missed calls from Porra and a message from my sponsor who I haven’t seen for weeks after I told her I wanted to leave it for a while as I was getting too resentful.

From the amount of people trying to track me down, you’d swear I’d been at a crack house in Woodstock and not three metres away at a 78 year old’s flat !

I beat myself up emotionally all day for being so weak willed and drinking that wine. I never sleep well when I’ve had some wine so I am usually delicate from lack of sleep. A 3am wake up is par for usual after vino. Add into this a fidgety Teenie in my bed and it is chaos.

I’ve tried to speak to people about how I feel. My “normal” friends don’t think I am alcoholic, AA people seem to say that if you even ask “am I an alcoholic ?” that you probably are (a little like gay men saying every man could be gay)…..

If I say I don’t think I am an alcoholic, then the answer would be I am in denial.

If I say I can’t stay off the juice because I can’t get to meetings, I have been reminded that Bill and Bob (the pioneers of AA) did it without meetings and just working the steps.

So my soberness status is probably pro-rata in relation to the number of meetings I can get to. I am not completely 100% sober, butI am not out-of-control. I probably drink a lot less than Average Joanne. Two – five glasses a week depending on whether I drink one evenings or two.

AA has helped me lessen my drinking.

The thing is AA is not about lessening your alcohol intake, it’s about abstaining 100%. That is where the difficultness factor is upped. But then I also think that if I had to give up chocolate or coffee or any other manner of things, it would also be difficult.

Is that not why there is Lent ?

I’ve never managed to give up coffee for even a week.

I have been trying different things to “find myself”, but that’s for another time.

The last time I posted I was bemoaning the fact that life between the sheets had not changed much and I did not live in hope of a miracle turnabout.

Well God must have a sense of humour or be evil enough to enjoy yanking my chain as shortly thereafter God sent Porra off to Johannesburg – where Porra thinks the streets are paved with gold. Well. OK. There are alot more jobs up there.

So  – thank you Higher Power for sending my sheet partner away – NOT !

Not for one week. Not for two weeks, but for 17 days ! This does not seem alot, but includes 3 weekends on my own. Porra drove off into the sunrise, bakkie puffing an exhaust cloud and a poof of building material – with a shout of a vague return date.

I had a good sense of humour about it for the first week. I got the remote to myself and could watch “Say yes to the dress” and “Eastenders” without horrible choking noises coming from my right.

Then the said return date changed. Pushed out to longer.

Then at some point during the business trip there was elation (from Porra’s side) about landing a huge contract and bleatings about skipping back for a bit and then being away again for another month.

Then he went out to a party with old friends.

My sense of wellbeing and smugness at having the remote to myself started to wear off. I started to miss the man. I started to think – no- know – that this is a crap situation. I hadn’t signed up for a long distance relationship.

Have a glass of wine . Drown sorrows. Pass some time.

Oh feck. Can’t. Am alcoholic (your one glass = my six glasses)

Step up meetings.

Oh feck. Babysitter.

Babysitter found.

Plan everything with military precision.

I was a single mom for 8 years and have forgotten how much hard work it is on your own.

I do not want to do it on my own.

I feel so hurt about it all. Which is silly because Porra is away because of work not because he is shagging Pamela Anderson at the Formula One Hotel, Midrand.

Long distance love sucks.

Au naturel Diddy is not necessary a pleasant experience.

I am feeling sensitive (I had a good idea about something – that the whole company will do because it’s a good  fecking idea – s0 my boss called me a brown noser last week which hurt all day. I am humming and haring whether I should tell her it was not “on”)

…on edge all the time (especially around my boss)

…..in my head and over analysing (I have quite a stressful job and cannot tell if my anxiety is job appropriate or whether it is Diddy being Diddy)

……plenty of stored up anger and irritation bubbling under the surface (fucked off at the world Emo style)

I’m using wine more and more to cope. Not copious amounts you understand, but this week – two or three glasses twice in a week to take the edge off. Thursday evening Porra bought a bottle of white home at my plea that “I’m stressed !

Friday night I had my usual three glasses with dinner….If truth be told, I only organise the meal out so I can have my wine. I have no interest in the food.

I’m very aware that my alcohol intake has upped from once a week Friday. Mother is needing more of Mother’s Little Helper.

This is not feeling healthy at all to me. It’s a backwards step in my recovery.

I’ve heard before that once you are an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. I had a chat with someone in AA a couple of weeks ago about binge drinking AA style. This – he explained to me – is binge drinking without consideration for the consequences…..chaotic drinking…..unhealthy and risky behaviours….bar hopping perhaps…..bingeing

I can say that yes……I have been a binge drinker AA style. Before.

I did a full purging confessional to Lady Gandalf once of all my drinking sins.

Ignoring my single days before Tweenie – when I was into heavy drinking and any drugs available, I was an AA style binge drinker from around 2002 – 2007 (I’m looking at my notes I  made for the Lady Gandalf session as we speak).

I really only cleaned up my act when I went into adult child recovery in 2007 and a couple of months later met Porra.

I am too embarrassed to purge my binge drinking sins here in internet land. Let that stay in Lady Gandalf’s ears. It was awful to recount it at the time and I realised how much damage I had caused to Tweenie. I have no idea why I thought it was acceptable at the time to behave it such a selfish way with regards to Tweenie. I was hugely in denial and no-one in my life ever stood up and said “hey man, this is not right”. I’m not saying it’s anyone else’s job to reprimand me. It’s just when I was in that lifestyle, I surrounded myself with similar beings so I was nothing out-of-the-ordinary driving home snot-fok-drunk or taking a pass out snooze in the back of my car in a really rough neighbourhood.

Even at the height of my coke addiction when going to work was not a priority, no-one ever said  anything. I wonder why.

Anythehoo. My point is I am not back there. I feel in my life there has been varying degrees of alcohol and drug abuse…..and I’m not in that space right now.

If coming off meds is making me resort back to unhealthy coping behaviours then probably not  being on meds is not the brightest idea of the year.

So why don’t I just stop drinking ? It’s been a pretty much constant crutch since I was 16.

Mother is scared of a life without Mother’s Little Helper.

My eyes are abit swollen and tired today. I cried myself to sleep. Wet snotty tissue in my paw. Luckily Porra gets me and didn’t think I was crying over my long lost love Tweenie’s Dad. He understood. Understood that I feel alone in the world again without mummy and daddy figures.

I’ve been a part of Tweenie’s Dad’s family since 1996. That’s……<get’s out fingers and toes and a calculator>…..16 years. I’ve always coped in my head that …yes …. I don’t have contact with my real mother and father….and Tweenie’s Dad’s parents where kind of my backup plan.

I’ve kind of piggybacked Tweenie’s family and now I am feeling an incredible loss. I feel such hurt….<I did follow my own advice and checked my hormonal cycle and yes I also have PMS!>

The one year Porra and I even drove down to them and spent christmas with them as their own children were off doing their own thing.

It all boils down to mummy and daddy issues as usual.

I’m losing a family (again). Hard to swallow, but the tears are starting to dry up.

I had an excellent session with my Dr Ruth yesterday morning.  A really big aha moment for me about my ongoing battle with sexual relations.

I am in a crap mental space. Have been for a while. I am miserable and complicated and the classic adult child characteristic of “having difficulty having fun <insert without wine>”.

But then I s’pose digging around in the times when 9 year old you got to jerk off your drunken step-father is bound not fill you with the joys of spring.

Yes. Yes. Yes. I’ve seen pictures on facebook saying “don’t look back”, but mentally my step father is in my mind and house every day infecting me.

I had planned to do a post last night about my Dr Ruth. Got home. Notebook flat. Plugged it in to charge. At some point Porra plugged in his i-pod. 10pm I am ready to start whacking the keyboard.

Somehow his i-pod stuffed up my internet access and I couldn’t use my notebook. PMS Diddy was not amused. I sulked and went to bed.

So here is a quick “at work” post of a non-sexual nature:

Drunken mother – nothing is by accident and I bumped into someone from the AA fellowship last week that I know quite well. I have had a few “signs” about me and AA during January. Firstly, I stumbled on the book “Memoirs of an Unfit Mother” about Ann Robinson (she of the weakest link fame and an alcoholic). Secondly, a mug I accidently “lifted” from an AA conference turned up in my house after being AWOL for 3 years. I was shocked to see it. I could smell the Higher Power aura around it. Porra had found it in the garage and returned it to the house…………and now bumping into “Miss M”.

I’ve organised to meet “Miss M” and discuss AA and binge drinking and what-ever-the-way-I-drink with her…………..all the fellowships recomend to sit out 6 meetings and see if you relate before making a call. And it may be time for old Diddy to follow her own preachings.

Fancy Pants School – I had a lot of tears over the potential “forced removal” of Tweenie from her school. To cut a long story short, Daughter Dear’s Dad changed his story towards the end of his time in Cape Town and said it was never his intention to move her and that I must “cut costs” in terms of medical (the damn medical aid runs out every year in July). I feel very unsettled around this and feel I am at his mercy in terms of Tweenie’s education and medical care. She needs a counsellor to deal with her suicidal thoughts and anxiety. So how to get her a counsellor and “cut costs” ?? A counsellor for her twice a month is going to be more costs and I can’t get around that. I am going to see the maintenance lawyer so get something formal set up.

It’s 8am……back to work !

Maintenance lawyer / specialist 3 hours, 46 minutes ago

Hi there !

Was wondering if anyone knows a good CT maintenance lawyer ?

I need to get to one. To stop a potenial decrease.

I’m a single parent of a 12 and a half year old. I know I am very lucky as my ex-boyfriend contributes towards my daughter. We broke up when she was 13 months old.

He used to pay around R800 /R1000 pm (I would pay the creche out of that and he had her on his medical aid), but things changed when she started proper school. I enrolled her into a local school where the costs are around R19000 pa. I got her registered and i secured her a place. Her dad then decided she would got to a particular private school. I was hesitant as it is and was way out of my league. I was telephonically assured that the fees were not a problem. I thought why not then. Its a great school (ratio 1:13 this year !)

Roll forward to grade 6. My child is ADD and she has an anxiety disorder. Dad has been in rehab for 4 years, but is now working there as a counsellor. He does get paid, but not much (according to him). Although his family is wealthy and I know he has properties and land.

He has now come to me and said the maintenance is too much. He is “running out of money”. He pays her school fees, medical aid and R1500 pm. If the medical aid runs out I ask him for the cash back on her medicines for instance.

I look after all her daily expenses like accomodation, clothes, entertainment, food, pocket money etc.

Now he is threatening that I must chip in on the school fees/he is going to reduce the maintenance or he will take her out of her school where she has been for 7 years.

My child overheard him and his dad talking about this over Xmas and reported this all back to me. She reported back to me. Worried she is moving schools.

I really don’t want him to reduce the maintenance. I don’t want an increase. i just want my child to stay in her school where she is happy and flourishing. But I cannot afford to put in an extra R2000 pm.

I really don’t believe he is broke. I would honestly be understanding if I thought it was the case. But when he comes to CT on holiday he buys himself 10 CD’s a time and fancy ipods. Its just a ploy I feel.

She is so happy at her school and has been there her whole school career.

Oh yes. And they are taking her to Mauritus in August for the third time. Bought up in the same evenings conversation. Go figure.

Help !