She was right

Before my marriage ended, I had tried frozen meals so that I had less time on my feet breaking my hip back. I’d just add vegetables on the side, protein depending on if the meal had one or not, and just warm the meal up so there’d be less competition between teaching and cooking.

The children, all the children who can tell, enjoyed the meals. Chickpea fritters, lentil stew…But my ex, knowing full well why I had ordered the meals, said he hated them. He said none of them were delicious.

Is this the same abuse as when he said the rheumatologist is crazy to tell me to retire from teaching due to my evil Ankylosing spondylitis?

All I can tell you is that I didn’t order anymore. Instead, cooked everything from scratch despite the extra pain and debilitation it caused. All because I was pleasing a cheating man. If only I’d known! Then his preferences wouldn’t have mattered.

But yep, no more frozen prepared meals.

Until the week he left the house.

I ordered the meals even before I’d gone to court for the actual divorce.

The problem is, when you’ve got the meal, you’re meant to eat it. I’ve shared how I eat late at night but this time, when I was tidying the kitchen the morning after I had heated this meal, as I was speeding around as much as possible so I could go and record the Bible story before the children got back for school time, I found the meal.

Oops. “I was meant to have eaten this yesterday!” But even when I woke up the next morning, I didn’t even notice I’d not eaten. Nor had I taken half my chronic medication in some days.

They aren’t playing when they say special needs children are hard work. I pray for a miracle. For no more tummy troubles for my non speaker. For no more behaviours that make me want to put my 11 year old in foster care till her mind stops being dangerous and bullying. For no more AS pain and exhaustion. For money to send them to private special schools.

I need help and mercy. I need miracles. I need to remember to eat. A knew the day would come that I’d forget completely. This week brought the day.

And tonight I burnt my food. It was meant to bake for 12 minutes but it burnt at six minutes. So much for THAT! And you know why the food burnt?

I was busy emailing all the doctors and telling them my girl had gone berserk and giving me only ten Ativans last week to calm her isn’t helping as we’ve already used four and when she’s already in a foul mood she refuses to take the tablet. She had short circuited the lights when she inserted a forgotten knife into the switch and burnt the knife and switch and made sparks fly.😱

As I sat in the dark, I felt defeated. It’s getting worse.

(I got my firstborn to remove the switch but the top is basically soldered into the wall and refused to budge. He didn’t know what to do. He just knew that whatever she’d done had killed all the lights. And the twins hated the dark.

I told him to turn the DV board off for lights and earth leakage and then boom, the lights were back on. But what will happen next and when? She had pulled a camera down, took the cable and tied it around her neck, angry that I hadn’t given her “string” to end her life. This is no life. Not for her and not for us.)