I feel your pain

I didn't want to forewarn you about the ensuing days/weeks/months. You sounded so relieved and elated on the phone last night it seemed too cruel. And I know also that you are not stupid in this respect even if inexperience may leave you more vulnerable to some degree. No, fuck experience; you have 3 boys and, as a strident mother of one small polyp (it was easy for me back then), I can only begin to wonder at how impossible your situation must seem just now. I remember with shudders how it was for me; one day walking on air, the next, skewed to the spot with a stake of sheer hatred driven through my gut. Not my hatred I must add - the collective opprobrium  and vengeance of an entire tribe hunting me down and snaring me at every turn. It's fucking hell and I wish there was something I could do to relieve you if only for one moment but there isn't. 

Practicalities; I can't even begin to imagine how I would begin to negotiate those in your situation. Please don't go mad. 

I have the ex sleeping in the room below me. I couldn't refuse him after he'd driven the small one back from the South over 24 hours with barely a pause. He was tired and a few beers short of an even temper just now. He wanted 'advice' again on how to manage the schizophrenic brother, wanted to know why, if the state were paying him so much money to be mental, they weren't prepared to pacify and incarcerate him for the good of all. I tried to keep my head and I managed to do so for almost an hour as his rant amplified and expanded into the realms of totalitarianism and eugenics. 

Of course I knew he was trying to get my goat. That's always been the underlying motive no matter how abstract the debate. I left the room to put coffee on and heard him yelling through the corridor  -'Ooh - your mother says I shout but she's got a fuckin gob on her and she won't even fuckin admit it. Fuckin makes out she's all serene and rational but you should hear her fuckin gob, think she knows it all... etc etfuckincetera..' I'm used to this and it doesn't rile me for one moment. It's just a nuisance and a discourtesy these days.Then the small person appraoched and said, rather quietly 'Dad's the one who's shouting not you. He always blames it on someone else but he's the one who shouts and keeps on shouting'. 

He hates it when I don't bite the bait so he tries another tac. 

'Fancy a shag? You obviously haven't had one in years so (and I thought this was rather sweet and self-deprecating) ' you won't even notice how small and useless I am now' !

I almost threw the coffee at the wall above his head but checked myself just in time. Or rather, I realised that I was holding my favourite mug and so calmly walked up to him and tipped the contents over his head. 

Lovely, but now there is a puddle of brown liquid on the sofa my parent's bought us and I will have to deploy all manner of horrid stain removers to it before they come to visit again. They don't do passion or rage. They have never spoiled a carpet or a sofa through such. 

Anyway, why am I telling you about my trivial contretemps when you are going through the mincer?

Just that people are awful and horridly bad-mannered. All of them and all of us at one time or another. 

Again I can only offer the standared clichés: 'It well get worse before it gets better'..'if you're going through hell then ... etc etc. 

Save all your love for yourself right now, and have some of mine while you're at it. 

XX


P.S A sobering and frankly undeserved email from Kate just now. I should keep away from you both. I really should.