Saturday, April 20, 2013

Talisman.

These days I am rarely alone.  I'm a social person but I sometimes long to be alone in the house.  I get resentful about it but I'm not good at asking for time out. I just huff and sigh a lot and roll my eyes and get short with the kids. And wonder why nobody reads my mind. And when I say nobody, I mean my husband.

At high school I got the "Most Sarcastic" prize at the end of Year 12, but I think if I were to get one these days it would be "Most Passive Aggressive".

I've had a long week of being sick and looking after a sick baby. I've virtually lost my voice. So without prompting M offered to take the kids out to his parents place in Brisbane for the afternoon to give me a few hours alone.

I tried not to clap my hands together with glee when he suggested it. I rushed madly around packing a bag of their things, folding nappies, filling drink bottles, and hurried them into the car.

As he reversed out of the driveway, he stopped and wound down the window, and they all waved as he drove off.

I watched the car disappearing down the street and, suddenly thought,

There goes my whole life. There goes everything I have, contained in that car, in those three people.
If something happened to them it would be the end of my life too.

I wanted to run after them shouting  "Don't go! Something will happen! Don't leave me! Something isn't right".

But I didn't, because that would be a sign of madness.

Instead I came inside and put their toys away, stripped their beds and put fresh sheets on. I arranged the soft toys on P's bed. I put her pyjamas under her pillow.

As if to ward off the anxious thoughts, like evil spirits, I lit a scented candle, and watched some videos of P as a baby. I put some cheerful music on and lurked around the kitchen to dig out some biscuits and cheese to eat, and then sat down to write.

When I was a child and haunted by recurring nightmares, my mother would make the sign of the cross on my forehead before bed, murmuring,

No bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams.

P often wakes sobbing from nightmares, but if I practice the same white magic before bed, she sleeps peacefully.

No bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams, no bad dreams.

I make a talisman of my worry and repeat to myself;

Come home, come home, come home, come home, come home, come home safe to me. Come home.





18 comments:

  1. We're living a parallel life! I was at the shops for an hour today and all I could think of was that I needed to get home to them. Earlier I'd been gagging to just get away from them all. I got home and the 3 year old ran up to me and shouted "Mum, you came back!". how hilarious...as if I'd ever leave!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I feel better just writing it down! I think it just probably means I have to do it a LOT more Terri!
      I'm ok if I go out but if all three are in the car and I am not I lose it a bit.

      Delete
  2. I often have the same feeling, desperate for space but then when they leave terrified they won't come back.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's made me feel better to know others feel it too. I'm waiting patiently for them to come home now. Writing it down was excellent therapy :-)

      Delete
  3. This is one of the cutest things I've ever read, esp the part about changing the kids' sheets, arranging the toys & then watching the baby videos! I hope you're all better for Mon. PS, was it an ecoya pear candle by any chance? A xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. A it was the Ecoya candle! But it's vanilla. I could eat it. Best present. See you tomorrow xx

      Delete
    2. That's bizarre, I was sure I'd bought you the pear one, aah the powers of sleep deprivation! I've been thinking a lot about your post - so touching, you are a fantastic Mummy. See you in the a.m, hooray xo

      Delete
  4. This is exactly what makes us human! I find that writing stuff down helps a lot as well when I'm feeling less than cheerful.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Tis excellent therapy! Thank goodness for it.

      Delete
  5. I am Queen Huff-er.
    And my mind is so easy to read I don't understand why my husband can't do it.

    I know exactly what you mean about so wanting them to go and then so desperately wanting them to come home.
    I hope that you enjoyed your time alone and that they came home safe and sound.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Caitlin, they came home safely of course. I think it needs to happen more frequently so my panic attacks can start to subside! Silly really!

      Delete
  6. I knew exactly what was coming when reading the sentence about visiting your inlaws.

    Even though they drive us mad we are lucky to have those who want to see us.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So true smr. Such a ridiculous conundrum!

      Delete
  7. It's funny isn't it? By nature I'm a person who likes a lot of time alone. Sometimes I find the presence of others incredibly claustrophobic and yet, when the people I love aren't within touching distance I can't relax and enjoy my solitary time.

    ReplyDelete
  8. So sweet - I have days like that too (even though my kids are now 18 & 16). Absence makes the farts go honda - oops sorry that should be absence makes the heart grow fonder!!!

    ReplyDelete
  9. Love the new look the blog. Have I told you about how I rationalise and challenge my inner thoughts? I have had these EXACT sorts of thoughts, it went on for most of my life and was getting worse. I suffer from an anxiety disorder, which doesn't help :) Anyway, happy to waffle on about it to you some time if you like.

    ReplyDelete

Vent your spleen! You know you want to.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...