Birds of a feather...

Being a parent is never easy. Sometimes you have to accept that you don't have all the answers and that even trying to do the right thing may not be for the best. My youngest daughter is 16 years old. She is, to say the least, a bit of a wild child and since her father and I divorced she has lived her life in a somewhat challenging way. I always considered myself a good mother. I raised my girls in a traditional way. I was a home mum, breastfed both of them, played with them as much as I could and tried to inspire creativity with them. Money was tight and I didn't always have the means I needed to lavish them with expensive toys or clothes, but love cuddles and time were free and they had these in abundance. Vanessa decided to live with her father when I moved away in Autumn. She wanted to be close to her friends and college but under it all I always felt she had a deeper loyalty to him than to me. Bird of a feather, flock together and she is very like him in many respects. I moved here alone and have been alone ever since.



Living with their dad was difficult. He never loved me in all the years I stayed with him...I say this with conviction because he never told me. If he thought it, I never knew it and felt it even less. I do not even know why I stayed so long. Fear of the unknown I think, or lack of self esteem. I was rather lacking in extended family support and so, it appeared, I stayed because simply, I had nowhere else to go. Salvation came with the children and the very act of procreating with this man was the very essence of the beginning of our marital demise. My focus on the children being as intense as it was, gave him the perfect opportunity to begin breaking away. This took many years. Not for me the sudden shocking end but the gradual paint drying degeneration. In the end divorce was the only thing left to do...so I did it. Apart from one single meet, we didn't even have an autopsy and I think this may have confused the children as suddenly everything had changed. New lives had to be planned and built and I did it all in a haze of disbelief, self loathing and depression. I felt cast out and not one bit excited. Even 3 and a half years later I still live with fear everyday.

My youngest now wishes to come and live with me. A perfect cure for my loneliness it seems but after having so much time on my own, despite it being sad and solitary, I feel loathed to give it up. But do I have the right? Can I say 'No you have to stay with him'. Her behaviour was vile when she left me before. She was aggressive and argumentative, lazy and self absorbed. Sometimes we would fight and she would hit me. Eventually it became too much and my moving here gave us the catalyst to separate graciously. I love her and as a mother I will always love her so the question is, Do I let her in to the life I have made for myself now. I am not sure I have a choice, but I do know if she returns, it will be under my rules. Having her here will be a little like living with him again. She thinks like him and talks like him. So what should I do?

I guess I am her mother first and I should just suck it up for the sake of us all.

This house is a perfect minimalist palace of serenity and calm that I have created. Is it ready to have it's walls shaken with grief again? I'm not so sure.