Crying it out!

My friend, and then a few days later, my attorney, asked if I’ll ever regret getting divorced. My friend was asking because when he’s not traveling, my husband does insist I wake him up to change our non speaker’s diaper or sleep sack or just try get her to sleep.

But on the other hand, even when it’s still early and she’s not tired, he then forces her to stay in the bedroom when the rest us including her siblings, are NOT in our bedrooms. And he’s smacked her hands before for wanting to come out, only for me to check and the poor girl had been trying to ‘ask’ for someone to change her poopy diaper.

That’s not the kind of help I need at night.

So I won’t miss it. I won’t miss him because he refused twice to take our girl to the hospital when she was close to critically ill given the fecal impaction had messed her kidneys up already. I state this because he wants an expensive home to move to “in case of emergencies and to drive ‘firstborn’ to campus.” What emergencies? Twice I drove myself to the hospital after I asked and he refused. Why would I then bother someone who isn’t even in the same house as me? Someone I have servered all ties with except for the law insisting there be visitation -something the children do NOT want. I hate that I have to make them do something like that.

Just last weekend I had to rebuke him. I brainwashed myself into being the perfect wife who instead of arguing, prays for you. Ammy came to me saying her little sister was trying to show their father something she’d made and he was ignoring her. At 11, Ammy has learnt to not even try get her father’s attention. But Naynay gets attention more than they do because she’s less ‘broken,’-he has a distaste for brokenness. He likes her more because she’s gifted.😭And my children know it and have mentioned it.

But the level of brokenness he hates is very likely why he went back to Ms BBL and tummy tuck, boob enhancement harlot. It was at the peak of my AS suffering when I was in so much pain and painkillers not helping that I was asking God to kill me. Instead of being an encourager, someone who will attend consultations with me (Something I’m very aware of given he attended his harlot’s prenatal check after his sister cursed her out and said she hoped the baby died) he drew away even more. He used the pain I feel after intimacy as a reason, an excuse to stop. I mean, when we women are new at it, we have pain from friction, so why not stopping THEN? Because this was a symptom of being broken and unattractive. He wanted a gym rat with plastic in her butt and boobs. Even my friends looked at her photo and were disgusted, and it’s two very different friends. One has principles like mine, and one is one I blogged about who shows her body off online. But they both were equally disgusted by the obvious fakeness.

But it’s not only my being unwell that made me easier to discard. I think it’s also glasses. She doesn’t wear any. He told the children and I that he would rather die than wear glasses as glasses make you ugly.

This is my Crazy Eye and Crazy Smile asking if I look Ugly because I’m wearing my glasses.

I remembered his words as I looked at my photo with my non speaker today. Except, it was after she spoke! She had said a very clear and loud, prolonged, “Nooooo!” when I asked her if I could cut her nails. I’d done one hand earlier in the week but like many autistics and people with sensory processing issues, nail clipping is as horrible as hair cutting is for her. So I stopped at one hand. I tried again yesterday and she was still in a bad place. I know the OT knows our children but I didn’t want her going to OT tomorrow with those long nails so I asked.

She answered! I was so proud of her! As you can see, she was not impressed because I still went ahead and cut them after reassuring it’s only one hand.😅

Today, I sent a voice note crying as I spoke, about not having been fully engaged with a friend. I then sent a message to my dear friend about just some of my life today and she was as heartbroken and worried as I am and it reminded me of how she cried for me and made me cry all over again.

I missed my ten year old’s first day of assessment. Everything has been all over the place due to lack of electricity but still needing to find power supplies for laptops and phones and the all important tablet my non speaker uses. He wasn’t even meant to be gone when the poor Ed psychologist asked if he’s on his way -a message I saw 11 minutes after the start time.

I always feel bad making other people prepare, sacrifice their time, sacrifice a client, and then not pitching. It’s the second time this year that I’ve missed an appointment. I used to have a calendar up but my children tore it and brought it down.

I still don’t understand how the one OT was so blasé about us going to our first session with her and getting there only for her to say oops, she forgot to state that she’s sick and not working. I feel guilty for days.

But it was worse today. The previous night, I’d been in excruciating body pain. Muscles were spasming and making me uncomfortable too. Then, last night, I was so tired that I was not impressed when our non speaker refused to sleep.😩I was really tired. I can’t explain the sleep deficit. It’s always bad anyway due to sickness or the twins waking me. But it was worse because we had no power and I was cold. The hot water bottle hadn’t been cutting it and I had no means of reheating it quietly so it had been a few bad nights. No extra blankets as I’d piled them on the children’s beds.

So here I am, happy to sleep. Then Ms Non Speaker came after she’d slept for two hours. She needed a diaper change. Then an hour later she was up again creeping around taking cereal from the cupboard. And then she took milk. Saying no, meant screaming and waking the others. What to do? We planned to go back in and take things out the room.

Next thing I know, she is back in my room. I wake up groggy and realise she’s soaking wet.

Girl had showered in milk. The bottom of her sleep sack was tracking cold, sticky milk from her room to mine as if she’d dipped it in a tub of milk. I went to look in her room and she’d baptised the bed in milk too. I wanted to cry.

I’d been asleep, so I hadn’t registered the neck pain. Now I was. It’s cold, I am tired, I can’t get low to change her bedding so I fetch her big brother. I look for more bedding and pyjamas. She screams in protest at having to get undressed. My socks are wet and cold from the milk spread everywhere so I go get a dirty towel to mop it up. I still wanted to cry. She was now up and wide awake so I took more of her sleep medicine for her-leaving us at a deficit.

Finally, I slept sometime after 1am.

Then her twin came to wake me at 4…

I can’t catch a break. My load is heavy. I’m still hunting for a cleaner who will change diapers and meeting weird and wonderful people. And that’s another topic. The people who break my heart job hunting. But I have to be communicating with the applicants all day as I don’t have a replacement and this Sunday is Vi’s last day. We are running behind l, the new person was meant to learn from Vi and our daughter be comfortable with her before Vi suddenly disappears from her life. Well, that lack of time is a long story caused by my daughter’s birth mother.

Long story short- she stole money I specifically sent for transport after also having given them the regular amount we had been giving, didn’t pitch for work and had no remorse. They KNEW it was for transport but spent 99% of it in one day, and the other 1% on the four days she did come in. And that’s after already not having come on the first day she was meant to come to work because they didn’t have transport money. Don’t ask what happened to the money I’d given them earlier in the month. Don’t ask me how they plan to ever work if they can’t even save MONEY given for transport and use it elsewhere. No other jobs give money in advance. They are the epitome of the stereotype about SA Blacks. And I hate that for our girl who was not impressed at all with what they did and the lack of remorse.

But hey, we can afford to buy our girl a bed now instead her only being on the mattress with my no longer enabling them. That was the worst part for me. The money was a sacrifice. But we thought they were desperate. Clearly not. They are happy in their poverty and handouts. Here’s hoping the lack of handouts prompts them really want to work.

Very disappointed. I hate entitlement with a passion. I hate it when we think people’s gifts are owed to us. I hate stealing. I cannot abide a lack of morals.

So I have all that hanging on me plus appointments for my very unwell 11 year old who needs iron infusions (aka drips) that I just plan for her and also plan genetic testing for my son. R8160.40 for the first set. More if these ones don’t give an answer. My mind is everywhere with remembering different appointments and meetings, electricity people who keep not fixing our electricity and allowing us to have power… I cried. I can’t even finish one telephonic ‘interview’ with a candidate without needing to take 20 minutes doing something else.

The candidates are not working out at all. One told me to watch the children so that our eloped never leaves the unlockable gate again. I told her that clearly she doesn’t know how children act, not what homeschool life is like if she thinks you can leave all other duties and be roaming around following each and every child to ensure they are safe and also so that one doesn’t run away. You’d need to wear an adult diaper and never cook for them, never go look for medication or the next supplement to give. So she was an immediate fail. As are many.

The two most hopeful ones neglected to tell me they aren’t even in the province until after I said I want to now organise a face to face interview and run through of the house and meet the children.🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️🤯🤯💝

And time is running out. I’m not meant to lift, bath, dress. But who will if I don’t?😔

The rebuking of the husband that I mentioned. I went to ask if it’s true that he was ignoring our child when she was trying to get his attention. He didn’t peel his eyes off his phone to even answer me. Then he called her and asked her to tell him when she had wanted to talk to him. Gaslighting her into believing that if she at age six, can’t say ‘when’ she had been talking to him, then he didn’t ignore her! I was so angry!

I told him the when doesn’t matter. The child agrees that she was trying to show him the drawing and he wasn’t listening and that he hurt her feelings. Period! “Knowing when, when, won’t change anything.!”

Who would regret saving their children from as much neglect as possible? No wonder children eating with knives are missed if even a verbal “Look, daddy, look…” is ignored.

Not me. I will regret nothing except having assumed the sermons on the pulpit mirrored the heart.🥹