Surrounded by Darkness

There is a period of 8 months, in my marriage,  that I will always think of as the darkest, coldest and most challenging for me.

It was quite a challenge for me after the twins were born.   I didn't really have tremendous gaps between my babies.  I had twenty months between my first and my second child.   There were 2 years between my second child and the twins.   Now, I have to take my share of the credit here.   When my number 1 son was born, we lived in the Middle East and our lifestyle was astoundingly fabulous.   Yes, the constant sun and heat made you forget what month you were in.   I think there was once a quick rain shower,  but in the two years we were there, it was pretty much sunny and hot everyday.   I loved it!
Except at Christmas, then it seemed really odd to have a full roasted meal, while sitting out in your swim suit.  {To be honest, our first year there, Christmas fell during Ramadan, which is the Muslim equivalent to Catholic's Lent.   It is a festival of fasting and prayer.   So we had our Christmas at my Husband's favourite place, where he could go diving, and they put up this screen so as no Muslim's would be offended as we  feasted, on the beach in the sunshine.   That is Not Christmas at all!}
Sometimes I have a similar problem living in Scotland.   Not that there is so much sun, actually, it is often very dull and rainy.   The interesting thing is, there isn't of a great variation in the temperature.   For example, in June this year, it was so cold and wet, when I drove to the grocery store I saw people in winter hats and coats.  If I hadn't known it was just weeks from the schools closing for summer, I would have guessed the month as late September.

So after nearly two years, of having a relaxed work life for my Husband.   While we lived in Oman, we had plenty of money coming in on just his salary,  we sent half of it to the UK where it covered the mortgage and other expenses.   I taught a few classes after my son was born and made enough to pay for us to have a 'date night'.   I also had a woman come and help me three afternoon's each week.  She and my infant son had bonded very well.   I also had a profound fondness for her.   I would miss her tremendously.  It was during this time that I prayed for another two children.   In my mind, this prayer covered my intention to have one at 38 giving my son a few  years of quality time with me.   Then another baby at 40.   But, as they always say, be careful what you wish for, as you just may get it.

When we left Oman, unbeknownst to me at that time, I was carrying my twins.  We then spent a lovely week in France were I drank wine and ate soft cheeses, just about everyday!    I am very blessed to have two perfectly healthy, strong twin sons.   They are just as precious as sunshine to me.    {And if anyone thinks I only love my twins?  I just want to state categorically and emphatically, I have a total, overwhelming, all encompassing heart feeling for all four of my children}  But, when I had that initial scan, they gave me a lecture on being a geriatric mom!   I was 35!   So, I am especially glad it all worked out, as the midwife and nurse were showing me charts of all the chromosomes and how many things could go wrong with my pregnancy.   They wanted me to have amniocentesis.  This procedure carries a spontaneous abortion risk, and as they were convinced the twins were non identical, I would have had to have two!
On This day I stood up and told them, there was no way I was testing for any conditions!   I loved these two tiny souls that I was fortunate enough to be blessed with.
This event, my standing up to the Nurses was significant to my Husband.  Perhaps some of the bottled up rage I was suppressing was dished out on those two unsuspecting medical professionals.   This story also kicked off some problems for me with my family.   My stepmother was quite incensed that I wouldn't have the tests.   She said I was being completely selfish.   That if the twins or one of the twins was NOT CONSIDERED 'NORMAL' I was imprisoning my daughter's life to looking after them.    That was a very dark day.

So, I did what I could to ensure two healthy babies, although I think ultimately that may be entirely out of my control.

So the twin pregnancy was hard work.  Raising the children, who were aged 3,  2 and two infants, was a baptism by fire.   To be honest, I believe I didn't have a full night sleep for 7 years.

But, that is nothing!

I think the lack of sleep plays into how both Symbol and my X Husband gained so much leverage over my mind.   It could also, very well explain how I was so docile.  You need energy to fight.  

I don't want any of my Treasured children to think they had anything to do with the problems between their father and me.   However, I believe the abuse was the worst, that the gradual build up over the years in our marriage.   The initial first arguments where he taught me my feelings have no value.   To the grand scale we were at this moment, where I am equal to the scum under the carper.   The abuse was just like an infection.   It was insidious, marking the darkest time shortly after the twins were born.

 I have tried to describe to you how his mental abuse was often launched in waves, or campaigns.

This period was about him showing me, how superior and invaluable he was.   Perhaps he felt a bit unimportant because I was all about the kids?
He would always tell me I had all day to play and watch whatever I wanted on TV.   {Which is a ludicrous statement.   Perhaps a man would watch adult TV with their children but I maintain any parent who cares about their kids, puts on kids TV!}   To say that I had all day to play was  a serious undermining of my belief in my role as Mother.
I can remember him making this point, he discussed this at length with my stepmother, who agreed that children would be best watched by a talented chimpanzee.   I was cooking the lunch and setting the table while they stood in the kitchen having this intellectual dialogue.   I felt so enraged, that what I was doing, precisely at that moment, was being described as a chore to be fobbed off on anybody, even a less than human being!
{I know anger was churning inside me as I called the children to the table and made sure they all had some tomato soup.   I remember that my son put his hand right into the bowl of soup, burning the palm of his hand!}   This is something special about my son.   Whenever I was wound up or emotionally in turmoil he always acted out!
So, I had 4 young children.  The twins had seperate feeds at night, and were completely different in nature too.   The youngest was a lark, he would go to bed at 6 pm and get up at 6 am.   His older brother wanted to stay up late and then sleep in.   My eldest was a busy girl, always busy, and I was having trouble keeping my eyes open during the day.

I remember, my X-Husband made a big song and dance about leaving work early so he could come home.   His idea of a contribution?   Was sitting out the back, smoking, drinking beer and reading the newspaper.   One of the afternoon's he graced us with him coming home, I took the three youngest and tried to get us all, to have a nap.   I was awoken to hear him giving our daughter an earful of trouble.   I walked out of the bedroom to find my Husband and daughter in the kitchen,  she had happily taken a family sized Baby Powder container and decorated the dinner area with a layer of white dots.   {I do so hope you are laughing, because it is quite a precious snapshot of any nearly 4 year old child}   Now, of course, this was all my fault!   She should not have had access to Baby Powder!   He shouts at me.   {This is so great, I really want to laugh as I remember this incident!} Honestly,  I think we were terribly lucky, as he really had no idea how to be responsible for looking  after a child.   I can just imagine this same day, what if our daughter had found a bottle of tablets, now the twins were delivered by cesarean section.   That means, heavy pain killers afterwards.   I mean, we were so lucky.

Okay, so I wasn't sleeping much at night, I never got a chance to take a catch up sleep during the day.   I was being told that my life was comfortable and easy, that I could do everything I wanted when I wanted and had no reason for complaining.   Well, to be honest, I was exhausted and felt overwhelmed with making school runs and Toddler groups.   I often found that I had to carry the elder of the twins, he was amazingly hungry, and carrying him on my forearm whilst rubbing his back was about the only thing that kept him from grumbling all day long.
 He started to settle when he moved onto mixed feeds. I can remember being so fatigued, one day, as I was folding the laundry and I lifted up this Tea towel.   I wondered if I put it over my head and closed my eyes, would anyone notice?
I did do this,   I remember my son, calling for me.   I could hear his voice as if coming from another galaxy.   I am feeling some sadness for him right now.  I wish I could have coped better for his sake.  I would have loved to give him more one to one time.   I really wanted that for him.
I had and do still have a bit of guilt over what happened during these agitated years.

So, my husband had started this line of abuse that went, "you should be grateful for the food I let you eat.   You should be grateful for the roof I put over your head.   You should be grateful that I let you stay here when you don't earn any money!"   {Before the twins were born, he came home from work and gave me an earful of, "You would be happy If I quit my job and we all lived on the Dole!"}  I am not entirely sure what I had done to set this off.  I might have asked why he was home after 8.30 pm.   Perhaps I said it would have been nice for him to put his kids to bed.   But I actually think he had been out with his friend down the Pub.   {Sometimes when I really look at his behaviour, I think he said the most contradicting things he could so as to project his own guilt and decent onto me}

During this time,  I would have coffee to stay awake.   Which, if you truly know me, you would know,  I love the smell of coffee but I am not keen on the taste and I hate the way it makes me feel.  But I needed it!   Then, I would drink a few Diet coke's, which, by the way, have the same amount of caffeine as coffee!   Then, all those stimulants would all build up and by Thursday I would need almost an entire bottle of wine to calm down enough to fall asleep, before the first feed!    {I had some health problems after having my babies that close.   I had severe tearing with the delivery of my eldest son.   So the muscles were compromised.   Then, there is the effect of all the caffeine I was drinking, and the weight gain from the pregnancies and I had weak pelvis muscles, so sneezing meant other complications}   I had to go the Hospital it was very inconvenient, but it helped me learn with a better diet and a few exercises I could get control of this.  
But, the toll of the routine was wearing on me too.   I would get the TV usually on a Thursday night, that was when I would splurge for my wine.  I remember, the TV show,  Desperate Housewives was just being aired.   I liked it at first and then, I started to see myself in the characters and couldn't watch it anymore.   It made me feel too much.  I didn't want to really face how out of my depth I was at times.

You know how I said, how lucky we were that my daughter never stumbled onto something dangerous?   Yes, I was lucky, because sometimes it would have been so easy for me to miss something.   My mind really wasn't able to focus.   {I can remember a research paper came out the year I had my daughter.   It proved that a woman's brain shrinks during the first year of her baby's life.   This is actually a very shrewd plan.  I mean, honestly, you can look after a baby and feel as if all you do is the same few tasks.  Feed the baby, change the baby, rock the baby, and repeat.}
But, I had this other burden, I had this husband who needed me to, {my guess at this moment is} praise him.  Because, his current line of attack,  during this period, was of, "You should be grateful to me everyday".  
In a very adult context, I now wonder if he wanted me to ingratiate myself to him, by giving him some one to one time.  
I would never have gone near him like that.   I still remember what he said to my stepmother when she came to see the twins.  I was nursing them and he turned to her and said, "disgusting breasts, like swollen balloons".  He said he was having a fun joke with her.  It just instilled with me a deeper sense of shame.

So, daily he would have to shout at me, after coming in the door.   His house wasn't run to his liking.  Then I was physically not to his liking.  

When I sat up on a Thursday I often considered finding a way out.   At that time, having the energy to pack a bag and walk out the front door for more than 15 minutes would have been too exhausting.   Also at that time, I just didn't consider walking out the door.  I wanted to keep my babies safe, warm and dry.   I had the most elevated duty, I had four beautiful children and I wanted only the best for them.   I wanted to ensure they had their basic needs met, to have clean clothes, enough food and a wonderful array of learning experiences.   I played different music for them.   I tried to read books and do puzzles.   Mostly I wanted them to know they were loved.   So I was doing all I could to keep their father erupting like some cruel  human volcano.   So I did  what I learned in childhood.   I dance on eggshells to keep him from being so unhappy.
Then he raised the bar.  
He told me I should worship at his feet that he let me live under his roof.  
So, I did.
 I got down and prostrated at his knees.  
It was wrong, I felt wrong doing it, and the look of disgust on his face made me hate myself even more!  
At night, I started to walk into the kitchen and look at the biggest knives we had.   I wondered if I could just take one and chop, hard and fast enough,  I could remove my left hand with one try?   Then, I thought, I might go the more traditional Japanese route.  At least with the stabbing and ripping upwards of the abdomen you wouldn't have to worry about trying to slice bone.  {I can grasp your shock, that this topic is quite horrific to discuss in such a manner.  However, I am just trying to help you get into my mind and the level of despair}   These thoughts were unrestrained and they plagued me.

I no longer had any reason to think good thoughts about myself.  

 What stopped me?   The thought that stopped me, was what would happen to my babies?    I would not allow them to hold any doubt in their minds, that my impoverished soul was anything to do with them.   I was truly worried, that if I committed suicide, they might be used against them!

It was not their fault.   I loved them,  they gave me joy and each day that I got to see their smiles was pure heaven.

So my mind went into overdrive, how do I stop living a life of quiet desperation?

It is my belief that This Campaign cycle didn't break for 8 months.   

Perhaps it was, that I finally became a bit stronger physically and started to go to the gym a few times a week.   That might have helped me feel more positive.
Then instead of thinking how to use steak knives to end my life, I started pondering how could I manage my four kids and a suitcase out the door.

The darkness came when he walked in the door.   It was cold, cutting and unforgiving.   It showed me that there was nothing I had, that could bring a sparkle to the gritty, thick tar it spewed to hold me in my place.   Whether, you want to call this a demon, or dharma, it was certainly there for me to learn that I had to stop taking it.   I had to live the way I believed, and what I wanted for my children and the way I hoped to raise them, was nothing like the consistent compromises I was making to keep him happy.    The darkness had been in my mind.   The darkness had been in my heart.   I couldn't see the light for all that was about me.  I didn't really see it at that time, but I could be often found standing at the sink washing dishes and breaking my heart.

Sometimes I would just have to curl up on the floor because I couldn't stop crying.  
My daughter would turn to me on the day that I actually threw some belongings in black bags and took all four of my beautiful, priceless children and ran to the safety of a Women's Aid Shelter.   On that day, She would say to me."Mom, it will be good not to see you cry."