Feeling like a failure

It ebbs and flows. Good days and then bad. And this week the bad seem to be dominating. I know it’s a process. Something that has to be worked through. 

But fuck it’s hard. 

Pressure for my baby girl to meet the new person. That’s a no. Absolutely not. Not for a long time. I have my reasons which are valid. But not to go into on here. Personal and private. But a mothers love is fierce and my drive to protect is absolute. There will be no wiggle room on this. No give. I will fight all the way. And win. And to be told it’s because I’m bitter hurts. I’m not bitter. I’m wounded. My heart is healing. To be told you are no longer loved when you still do, regardless of everything, is hard. Especially when you are looking after a toddler, a young dog and trying to get work back up and running. 

When you are exhausted. And your brain doesn’t work. And you feel like you are drowning in everything you haven’t achieved. 

No house. Garden. Garage. Conservatory. 

Not good enough. 

And a comment about the new one meeting all the children in the summer. That hurts. I was kept away. Always at arms length. At home looking after the dog when it wasn’t dog friendly. 

The dog walker. 

So fucking insulting. And yet I forgave. Time and time again. 

What a fucking idiot. 

And for him to want to include her in family things. Already?! It’s sent me spinning. 

When lockdown happened I suggested us living together so I could look after Monty whilst he was out doing volunteer stuff with a charity. But no. So to my parents I went. 

He’s talking about moving in with her. 

After 6 months. 

We were together, admittedly on and off, but essentially together for 2 and a bit years when lockdown happened. I only stopped being the dog walker when I was pregnant. Became official to his children. When I was pregnant with their sibling. 

And still. I want to know why I wasn’t good enough. To have my family together. To not feel like a failure. 

3 years chemo free

This should probably be a really joyful post. This weekend has marked 3 years since I came off chemo. But of course it’s all intertwined with him. 

3 years and 2 weeks ago I ended it. We were in such different places on such an important thing for me. And it was hard. Saying goodbye to the dog. My beautiful boy. Having all evidence of them both removed from my flat. Empty spaces everywhere. Memories everywhere. 

But carrying on. 

Then 13 days later. A phone call. I remember where I was standing when it rang in my hand. A video call. I remember where he was standing in his flat. What I said. ‘I’m at the parents. Come and stay. Escape London for a couple of days. Monty loves it here’. And a noise of agreement. So they came up. My boys. Who I thought my forever were. Well. Monty always will be. 

And 2 days later. Thinking. What if. Just in case. And I told no one. I stopped taking those pills. Just in case. 

And I was right. My future was going to change forever. My longed for miracle baby. Who has kept me safe for so long.

And this weekend. Unable to truly celebrate it. Health things going on with my father. Not wanting to overshadow what’s going on with him to celebrate what’s going on with me. Keeping it quiet. As I did when I stoped treatment. 

And trying to be really happy about it is hard. Because things aren’t where I want them to be. And I’m confused about certain things which I can’t talk about. I know it’s cryptic. Don’t want to be a girl over analysing everything. Which I know I do anyway. It’s how my brain works. A critical thinker. 

I wish I sometimes lived in a more of a bubble not really noticing what went on around me. 

Mixed messages. But are they. Is it just me wanting a certain outcome. Putting too much on nothing. Because of what I so desperately want. 

I don’t know. Time will tell. I’m on this path for a reason I know. I should let go and trust in it. 

Like I did when my baby girl happened. 

3 years chemo free. It’s huge. I couldn’t manage more than 6 weeks before she became my reality. 

But as I sit here in my parents conservatory. On the sofa where we sat. This weekend 3 years ago. So happy to be back together. My world complete again. It’s hard to be happy.