Saturday night as it grew late and my friend was about to leave, Jane told me that she had something important to tell me. My friend left some ten minutes later and Jane springs on me that in the morning she catches the train to join her Uncle on the extreme outskirts of Brisbane - who has agreed to help her return to school.
She kept asking me to respond... but I had nothing to respond with ... I can't say no - she will anyway. I can't say "Go with my best wishes" - because now I have to explain to MacDonald's here why Jane isn't here to accept the shifts she went to go and get... after much coercion from me. Because I don't believe she wants to go to school for the right reasons and I don't believe moving 700 kms away from her parents (not just me and her stepfather but her father too 100kms north of us)is for the benefit of the family... and because I just know too well the trauma and expense of setting her up for a new school or beginning only to find she .....
Gah.
Poor Uncle. I wonder if I ever told him how difficult it is to get her out of bed before midday? Jane gets chance No 107 (I could be overusing poetic license a little again) at basic attending school.... and achieving somewhat harmonious living.
There is an even more sinister side to it all from me than just Jane's continual betrayal and bad choices. And the ghastly bit is me. Not only do I feel the frustration and hurt at what she does... but the fact that I actually breathe a sigh of relief because it simply is easier with just Anna and William - makes me feel so very terrible. What an awful mother. I find my own daughter such a conflict.. so very strange to me... unpredictable, taciturn and absolutely unable to care about the feelings of the rest of us....that I am actually relieved (when I am not worrying about her safety) that the house is just back to us.
Anna explains it as it has always really just been us - and somehow I understand that. Doesn't make it less sad.. just makes it a bit easier to concentrate on the positives..... William just knows to come for a hug sometimes and head back to the Tardis. (That is what we have always called his room).
I don't understand or like or.... have enough patience with the self harm - the sleeping all day, the churlish remarks, the refusal to help with chores without a song and dance worthy of a slavery story, the fact I worry more than any parent should that she could be stealing.. and I feel suitably revolted in myself for feeling all of this.
And I don't know what to do to stop it all.
So instead I deal with Anna's mad plans to go blonde, attend soccer sign up with William and just deal with my week at work as best I can. Hoping no one see's too through me as a failure as a parent to two of my kids.
1 comment:
You would not write about this if you did not give a shit, and I think you Do give a shit which makes you an awesome MUM and an awesome LADY! My kids are all still so young and I am bracing myself for the day they get older...and I just hope I am doing all the right things to steer them to make good choices in life. It is all we can do.
Someone very close to me did the cutting and the self absorption and the internalisation that did not let anyone else in. They got help which cost alot of money..and alot of time spent at the Psychiatrist. That was after going to a psychologist (did not work) and a few other alternative practices.
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