It’s my birthday today.
Neither of the kids have even come out of their rooms to say hello, and it’s 5.30pm. They don’t make any effort for my special days. On Mothers day I cried because Storey refused to come out of her room to have dinner with the rest of us or even just spend some time in the same room as me to watch a movie or stare at her ipad, only, in the same room. She refuses physical touch now, which I get, she’s autistic and physical touch isn’t something she likes, and she doesn’t have to hug anyone if she doesn’t want to. But I need it sometimes, the same way she needs space sometimes. But it’s autism… other people don’t make sense. She’s her own planet and other peoples needs don’t come into her mind. Or if they do, it’s rarely. It’s hard.
When I was still with the kids father, I think he only went to the effort for a special day three times. That I can remember anyway. Once in the height of love bombing he made me a cake and bought me flowers. I’ve always known I have to get myself something for Christmas or treat myself for a birthday because he wouldn’t. A lot of the time he would damage the thing I got myself or have a tantrum about me doing something for myself and not for him (er, who’s birthday is it?). Now the kids are teens they don’t want to do anything, they won’t come for a walk or the beach with me for a day out just to make memories and be together like when they were little. A nice mothers day was taking them somewhere and finding rocks or collecting leaves. A few weeks ago we went for a picnic/bbq (In Australia there are free public barbeques in parks) and they were so full of angst and crabby the entire time, Blair kept trying to argue with me about “why do I have to come outside”, by the time we got home I was so sick of it I had to take myself for a walk. Everything is a power struggle “why do I have to do that”. Storey hasn’t contributed to the house in months. Just refuses to do her house chores or school work.. and doesn’t care about the consequences. She would be quite satisfied staring at the wall in her room if I took everything away and her attitude wouldn’t change. I’ve done it three times before, and nothing fucking changes with that kid.
My mentality my whole adult… even earlier… life has been “I’ll just do it myself.” Because there came a point.. in retrospect I was probably quite young, where I knew waiting was futile. If I want a present I’ll just get it myself. If I want to go out for coffee or a nice breakfast, I just take myself. No one thinks about me enough to consider “She really deserves to be taken out for lunch”.
I put myself through Uni, I got myself a job, presently I’m studying for further accreditation and planning to build my first home. I’m raising these kids alone, I advocate for Storey and her diagnosis alone, I support Blair and her crippling anxiety as a result of having an explosive sister, alone.
And it’s not because I’m stubborn, I’ve so many times asked for help and no one came. So I had to be determined, instead. No one else will do it. No one else can pick me up if I don’t make it through, so suck it up.
For this reason, I find I really hard to empathise with people who aren’t able to do tasks because of anxiety. I never had a choice but to do it and be a total fucking mess the whole time, but there weren’t any other options. I just had to for my kids, to stay alive for them.
Perhaps they think I don’t actually care about these special days? But then why do I go to the effort to make their birthdays special for them? Perhaps they just don’t think about anyone but themselves.
Sigh.
SP
Loading comments...