Internal arguments

Pfft

I’ve just had a fight with my daughter.

My daughter whom I cherish, my daughter whom I love like my other daughter

I would gladly give my life for either of my daughters.

She  is 25 year old and lives at home.

It escalated where unkind words were spoken from both of us.

I love her…but she is doing things that are disappointing me, making me angry.

She yelled, I yelled…it was highly confrontational… her boyfriend was here ..he overheard and stormed out of the house

She came out and yelled at me and then left the house

I’m in two minds…grow up my young daughter, please see where I am coming from …to

I don’t care if you say you are ‘different’ and by her reasoning  I should accept that.. I’m sorry I just can’t

Why should there be this conflict? I have given her a roof over her head, helped her out monetarily, supported and been there  since the moment I brought her into this world..

If she were in her own house, I wouldn’t know how she lived, alas I am here as she is, from day to day I see and hear and I’m sorry if I can’t accept…

I love her with every breath I take as I do my other daughter…but she has a different way of wanting to live and forgive me but shouldn’t I ask that she respects what my values are whilst she is under my roof?

Am I asking too much?

She yelled that I was the worst human being she has known…. that is hard to bare…that hit me hard and I write crying.. knowing what I have  done for her..what I do for her still..

I know to attack is the easiest way out…but it hurt…and I am hurt..

I’m not feeling that great at the moment and I needed to write…I know her words were said in anger like mine were but it doesn’t help…it wont resolve what was said or how we mend it

It’s not a normal post…I know.. I’m sorry..I’m just angry and hurt and sad right now that we can’t have the relationship I so desperately want with her…

I don’t think I am asking too much…I want us to be closer… I simply cannot get her to understand how I feel about certain things..and clearly she doesn’t understand me…

I close not knowing what tomorrow shall bring…

To write or not to Write…Reposted..from my 1st blog.. interesting to see where it lead

Yes writers the stamp of approval that we have been acknowledged, someone who doesn’t know us from a bar of soap appreciates our work and likes what we have written. With manuscripts I have forwarded, my letterbox strolls (to find acceptance) have come to nought.

I was mowing the lawns this afternoon (l know you wont find that mind-boggling) & I wanted to write, I moved onto weeding, I still wanted to write. Started to replant a gardenia bush, still wanted to write. It ‘the writing obsession’ wouldn’t leave me alone. In fact it hasn’t for some weeks now. It’s a calling, something unknown with long arms & sinewy fingers that grab hold of me & lure me into the study to turn on my Mac & say, “Now write”. (Maybe not long arms and sinewy fingers, perhaps a bit of over-kill there, but then that’s the writer in me). I try to resist (as I really wanted to get the gardenia bush planted whilst we are in Autumn) but it was no use denying it any further. So I sat at my desk and stared at the blank document page and prayed for inspiration (not literally).

Perhaps I should write just about me, my thoughts (I can see you all cringing, please don’t it shouldn’t be that bad).  Would anyone be interested in reading my dribble or would they find it amusing? Thought provoking? Would they relate to what I have written and me?

Who knows, I can’t be the judge only the person who is reading this can be. I know when I have read a book & if the author’s style is down to earth and open, I relate to it, it  draws me in even further.

I simply like that style of writing. Writing does require talent, imagination and creativity. Can we say that because l am an ‘unknown’ (apart from to my friends and family of course) that people wouldn’t enjoy or want to read what l have written? This is the uncertainty.

It’s all getting a tad in depth now isn’t it? Maybe I should refrain from over analysing and just do what I came in here to do and write. Sometimes I shall do that, I have the intention of writing something light hearted & before I know it the million words that consume my head space want to say something deep and meaningful…let’s see where it ends…

It seems so – Mother to her child

Have I forgotten the first signs of you wanting to come into this world

It seems so

Have I forgotten the pain that racked through my body as you circled and moved within me

It seems so

Have I forgotten screaming in agony and wishing you would appear

It seems so

Have I forgotten the stitches and the burning when I stepped into those salt baths

It seems so

Have I forgotten day four or five when my hormones surged and I felt that I could do nothing right

It seems so

Have I forgotten the swelling of my breasts when my milk came in and the hot shower that brought relief

It seems so

Have I forgotten the inadequacies I felt when I couldn’t bring up your wind after a feed and thought ‘I can’t do this’

It seems so

Have I forgotten the fear I felt when you slept by my side in the hospital and didn’t wake for me

It seems so

Have I forgotten bathing you for first time trying to console myself that I wouldn’t accidentally let you slip

It seems so – but

Have I forgotten the moment they laid you on my bare skin – it seems not

Have I forgotten looking at you in absolute awe of your beauty – it seems not

Have I forgotten holding your tiny hands in mine and counting your fingers and toes – it seems not

Have I forgotten brushing my cheek upon yours with my tears flowing – it seems not

Have I forgotten that from that day forward my role was to protect you and keep you from harm – it seems not

Have I forgotten watching you suckle as you grasped your tiny fingers around my seemingly cumbersome ones and drifted off to sleep – how could I

Have I forgotten that I realised how lucky I was to have gone through the miracle of birth and to have two beautiful daughters because of it – how could I

Have I forgotten taking you for your first inoculation and wanting the pain to be mine and not yours – how could I

Have I forgotten with every day that passes how much my love for both of you grow and how proud I am of both of you – Never

To my girls – I love you

xxxx

The Empty Nest A Mothers Hidden Grief – Available through Lulu & Amazon.


The Empty Nest A Mother’s Hidden Grief.  The memoir is the story of my life as a mother, with an emphasis on the unspoken grief, which accompanies the process of letting go of one’s children as they grow up. As much as a mother loves her children, she must endure, at many stages of their growth, the pain of losing them. The inevitable “cutting of the ties” culminates when the day arrives for her children to leave home. For many women, this time coincides with profound personal changes of menopause and fiftieth birthdays. My own recent experience of this process prompted me to revisit my life as a mother, and to delve into the journals which I had kept since I was pregnant with my two daughters, some twenty years ago. The journals reveal the learning curves of motherhood and I was able to use this material to form both the chronological backbone of the memoir, and to expose the “heart” of the story in the touching and personal moments that I had recorded.

Please view, if you are interested click on the cover which will take you to Lulu.com. Also available for Kindle at Amazom.com

“Below please view the Prologue”

The Empty Nest – a Mother’s Hidden Grief

Prologue

I began writing this story some five years ago when I was 49 years old. At the time I was working in a nine-to-five job for a small book distribution company. Now I work in a nine-to-five job in an administrative role for a lighting manufacturer. I was born and raised in Australia, and I am respectably average in most ways—height, looks, disposition, income, taste in furnishings, personal achievements and emotional baggage. I am an “everywoman”, if one exists. Or rather, an “everymother”, for what really defines me and obsesses me is the story I have to tell about my children.

When I started writing, I was facing the daunting prospect of turning 50 and the more upsetting event of both my daughters leaving home. With these two facts looming before me, I discovered within me a voice that was clamoring to be heard. Would I be like the mother in the movies with a drawstring apron, waving to my children at the picket fence with tears rolling down my cheeks? What happens to that mother? The movie never tells you because the story follows the children—their adventures, their romances, their heartaches—and only once in while do they come back to visit mum. She reminds them to eat their veggies and then the children are gone again. In the final shot she peers through the curtained window, a grey shape behind glass. The curtain shuts. End of mother.

What happens to her, I wanted to know. I needed to know. I am that mother.

This is a story of an ordinary Australian mum who is coming to terms with the fact that her life is changing forever. The characters that I share my feelings about are real people and each of them plays a very important role in my life; as a woman, a partner, a mother and a friend. This is my voyage, that which has emerged from my very heart and soul, beginning many years ago when I first became a mother to the time when my children decided to leave home—or as some people call it, ‘abandon the nest’.

4.0 out of 5 stars The Empty Nest, September 20, 2012
By
Shirley Chalmers (Victoria, Australia) – See all my reviews
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)
This review is from: The Empty Nest: A Mother’s Hidden Grief (Kindle Edition)

From the cradle to the empty nest. I passed through that journey myself so I understand the emotional roller coaster ride that this author takes you through. I think all daughters and daughters-in-law should read it – O, yes the boys too. I am the mother of two boys! There are tears and laughter, joys and sorrows in this very honest tale and it helps us to understand how we can support each other as mothers as we go through life together.

Thank you Shirley 🙂

*Pay Pal is accepted at Lulu*

My Thoughts

Commence prattling.

A while ago I sifted through some photos. One in particular reflected two beautiful young women, tanned unblemished skin, hair and make up done and dressed in stunning clothes. I gaze on this photo, how absolutely gorgeous they are. How much they have ahead of them, being able to do and acquire whatever they desire in life. They are my daughters. Whilst looking at these photos, I saw my life at that point and I envied them.

Natural changes that have occurred within me and within my family as the years pass. I openly admit that I have the desire to have the youthfulness and beauty as my girls do back again and yes I did get a microscopic twang of jealousy, is this uncommon? On the other hand, is it simply that I didn’t want my ‘babies’ to grow up?

 Thoughts

(This is the time I ask you to grab that glass of wine for l have immersed into the deep and meaningful for a bit). The body as we know it is the vehicle for conveying the first undeniable awareness of no longer being youthful. One can be youthful on the inside and think the same way as we did when we were younger, but the outside casing that what is visible is the sign that we are no longer young.

We resist our ageing for as long as humanly possible, was I was overly concerned with the concept of turning fifty the ‘mid way’ point in my life? (Assuming I live to 100) Yes l was. The realisation that over the next thirty or forty years would bring impending frailty, dependence on others and morbidly the final outcome the end of my life. (God where is THIS coming from? Bear with me it shouldn’t lighten up soon). We consider fifty in fact to be the half way mark, the loss of youth and the onset of ‘change of life’ which also brings the loss of reproductivity, (not that that part worried me to any great extent). I dearly would have loved to have a third child, but in hindsight wondered if my nerves or lack of tolerance would have coped with having another!

In early 1994 I was detected with Endometriosis, it was asked of me by my gynecologist that while I was having a cauterization would I want to have my tubes tied. John my ex husband (oh and by the way names have been changed to protect the innocent – obviously for a reason l thought necessary but for the life of me at this point can’t understand why) was happy with having two girls, but inside I knew I would have liked a chance of having another child. I remember lying in the hospital bed deeply upset as the reality of not being able to bare any more children struck me. I don’t know why I didn’t mention it to John at the time, to let him how I truly felt about it, but I cried as I lay on that hospital bed. lt seemed surreal  that the hospital that I gave birth to both my babies was the place where I also ceased to have any more.

Do I ‘feel’ 58 (some days I do) but how should 58 feel? The changes in my body have become more and more evident as the years pass. In the old scale I am five foot five and a half (the half an inch I always regarded as highly important). My weight over the years has fluctuated anywhere from sixty-four kilos to fifty-six kilos. Trying to maintain one’s weight at a certain level is extremely difficult, and more so as you get older. For a long time the only exercise I did apart from housework was walking, then I hit the gym signing up each year for 3 years and I turned into quite the gym junkie until the dreaded injuries started.

Firstly the hamstring strain and the quad muscles that were so tight they were could snap like an elastic band (according to my physiotherapist). No sooner had l healed from that my left elbow started playing up, so no weights for a month. Then there are the shin splints, the heels aching from jogging too much or over doing my quest for a toned fit body. Apart from the slight set backs the benefits have been my ‘fat back’ diminishing, my legs are getting a little more toned and I have re-acquainted my body to a waistline…oh and I gave up on the gym.

So yes, though the body goes through so many changes, as long as I remain young at heart, young in mind, I think I’ll be okay.