Cha cha cha….

This morning my phone pings – I assume it’s my usual “Hope for today” swishing into my inbox … it was so was not.  “He who must not be named” sent me another one of his “sorry can’t pay the maintenance” mails and the excuse… “Due to the holidays”.  My inferno combusted! My answer I spoke aloud between heavily clenched teeth was…. “yes, of course, because children don’t eat during the holidays! REALLY!! Again, he is just one of a gazillion jerk-offs out their polluting our world with crap and never taking responsibility… and his justification is (que drum roll) – “well my son does not communicate with me”. No shit Sherlock! After years and years of just never stepping up what the fuck do you expect?! Respect? Thank – you’s? What?

(Breath… humming Om) Needless to say, we had a fantastic xmas (Yule) and a smashing 18th birthday for my ‘boi’ – funded entirely by yours truly – not a bag of chips from the biological male, because face it… he is weak and a loser. Oh and just an additional rant – My daughter communicates with him, yet her College studies are not paid either – they have not been paid the whole year excluding the registration fees – she is facing not being able to continue her studies and has not been allowed to see her marks for the exams written and played.  “Ho Ho Ho (being the operative word to the money hole – no pun intended but works well ;0) Merry Christmas sweetie – sealed with a juicy kiss from daddy because you know I love you!”

Now that the ranting is done I turn to my recovery with some trepidation, because it is said the “this too shall pass” and we are to act with love and compassion toward our fellow human beings – well it’s a tad difficult with thoughts of planting an ACME bunch of dynamite in his arse and detonating it with a glint in the eye… but I breath, blog, do my morning read and realise that I cannot let this fucker fluff my serenity, and that all my kids have in this world is me… the responsibility weighs heavy, the future looks bleak and I wonder how it is that I get through this Addicts chaos time and time again. He pays for very little, no medical, no education, no food, no birthday or xmas gifts… not to mention the daily spends, clothing etc… or being anything close to what a dad resembles… sorry, I have to add…accept to his new family with 4 spawn who call him ‘pappa’, because apparently to them he is an awesome dad… This is where I have to surrender and realise that there is nothing I can do to change this at all, letting it go into the ether is really all I am able to do, as it all becomes too much for me and my rage will eat me alive. It’s hard to fight the resentment and anger and it’s really hard to see my children go through this – I wipe the tears from my daughters face way too often to not to be affected: So, a quick step one, two, three is in order…

Step 1: I am powerless over this arsehole’s behaviour – that my life will not become unmanageable and I will not hand my serenity to him on a platter.

Step 2: I have to believe that a greater force out there will deal the cards.

Step 3: Made the decision to let it go and trust that I am held by these larger rhythmic forces – blessed be.

Pixling ponders… its all a tango (rose in mouth), where’s my coffee….


Marking Time


Sitting in my small yet exquisite home looking out over a lead grey sea I am morphed back to when I first discovered this little treasure box.  The separation happened almost overnight it felt.  I was tired of this eroding relationship embroiled in addiction and constant fighting, me working like a dog whilst ‘he who must not be named’ was ‘building up his business’ earning minimal if anything at all (*his parents supplemented his non – earnings as much as they could for years)  and the last straw, our eviction – rent was not being paid (my end of the bargain was looking after the running of the home inside financially or as far as my salary could stretch whilst ‘he who must not be named’ had to pay the rent).  Long story short, my son and I had nowhere to go whilst *he moved straight into the comfort of his parents very large home – financially supported entirely. We had not been able to find a home, so my son and myself moved into a lovely room with two retired angels.

My son and I needed a home, and fast, yet both of us were sad and weary with not much energy to spare for house hunting. One last look in the ads and by some gift from the Goddess I discovered ‘Hobbitville Cottage’ overlooking the sea, high on a mountain… this felt like home. A month later we moved in. Looking back I need to pay homage today to the past year. I was filled with complete fear every minute of every day not knowing whether I was going to be able to pull this off, to provide (solely) for my son and myself (I must add in here that I have a daughter too, but due to circumstances, which will fill another blog, she stayed with ‘he who must not be named’ and his parents – I spent this time grieving my daughter deeply). Some months I received no financial help from ‘he who must not be named’ and some months the equivalent to a bag of groceries… how I made it… boggles my heavy laden noodle, I have no cooking clue, but I did!

I spent some weekends curled up in bed not being able to sleep yet not having the ability to move either. Buying milk at the local store felt like building a house. I spent the first half of the past year blacking out with the added bonus of developing a stutter, but with the help of an awesome therapist I got through that too.  My teenage son was my constant, my guardian angel (the guilt of it at times consumed me) and me his – we endured and survived a lot together and in the here and now we are truly stronger and better people for it.

This morning ‘BB’ messages came beeping in from the closest people in my world aware that today is the day we will be marking this time forever in celebration – twin tattoos which will forever remind us we did it and that looking ahead anything can be over come!

Pixling thinks…. “Blessed be…Fuck yeah! We made it!”.

* for future reference… my estranged spouse is refered to ‘he who must not be named’.