Why I am not a mother

Why I am not a mother….


I decided to leave the father of my daughter.  We rowed and didn’t get on.  I was working at Sainsburys, Stacey went to nursery and I went to work.  I managed to get a nice flat and we moved our stuff out while he was at work.  A bit mean maybe but I had experience of trying to leave him and he had snatched the baby off me and smashed all my stuff so I thought this was the best way.  I carried on working and Stacey started school.  I was exhausted working until eleven every night and getting up early for school.  We were always late for school.  Then I took a week holiday from work.  I never went back.  I went to the pub mostly.




Why I am not a mother…


I met loads of new friends at the pub.  The busker from town went there.  I had always fancied him.  I used to make Stacey go and drop money in his guitar case whenever we saw him playing in town.  I started hanging out with him and his friends.  Some of them had kids the same age as Stacey so they all played together and we all hung out.  I decided to take Stacey out of school.  She didn’t legally have to be there until she was five and they were always putting us in the late book and criticising me for her still having a dummy and going in the buggy to school.  ( we did have to walk miles to get to the school and it took long enough with Stacey riding in the buggy. )  So we spent our time hanging out with the busker and all our new friends.  He had a girlfriend but it didn’t seem to matter as she lived miles away.  Although it was a bit upsetting when he spent a whole week carving a sphere out of a block of wood for a present for her. 













Why I am not a mother…


So anyway my busker friend went to stay with his girlfriend for Christmas and I got in touch with another old friend stoner.  I really liked stoner, he was very good looking with long blonde dreadlocks, he smiled all the time and spoke five languages fluently.  We texted for a while and then he arranged to come through.  I sort of felt weird.  He was stoner, he would be stoned.  I had to be stoned too otherwise how would we connect?  I cant smoke weed.  It puts me in hospital but I did smoke it and we went out to see a band and sat and smiled at each other and kissed all night.  The next morning I woke up to the sound of stoner speaking French in his sleep.  I was definatley in love but I had a problem.  I was ill.  It was as instant as that.  I had woken up from the booze and the weed and I had psychosis.  I held it together I think until stoner went home, but shit, I had to get hole of some tablets to treat this madness.  I knew what I needed, risperidone.


Why I am not a mother…


Stoner flew to Paris.  In my head I was making plans to go there with him but as soon as he got there he met another girl.  He didn’t love me.  My landlord was trying to evict me from my flat.  Sending solicitors letters every day.  He said he wanted to sell it but I think it had more to do with him coming round for a bottle of wine and inviting me to france.  He told me money could do a lot for a girl like me.  I suppose it could but he was old and I hadn’t gone to all the hassle of leaving stacey’s dad in order to find proper love just to get stuck with an old man money or not.  I had to find somewhere to live pretty fast.  I ended up in a block of flats in town, know where near as nice as my old flat.  All this time I was seriously struggling with my illness.  I couldn’t get the tablets from the doctor because I would have to admit how ill I was and that would have implications about me coping with Stacey.  I just struggled on getting worse day by day.








Why I am not a mother…


We didn’t see our friends anymore.  It was enough of a struggle to get to the shop for milk and food.  I was having panic attacks whenever I went out.  I ended up in casualty a few times with panic attacks.  I guess I was insane but I was still managing.  Just.  Until I went to the bank and there was no money in there.  It all fell apart pretty quickly as we ran out of food and I rang the doctors surgery to ask if I could have Stacey adopted as I was not doing a good job of looking after her.  The doctors came to my flat, took me to hospital and Stacey to my aunts.  I sat in the hospital and I knew my life would never be the same again.  And it never has.  I was in the hospital for three months.  At first I discharged myself and went home because I didn’t believe them that there was anything wrong with me but I ended up being admitted again after a few days at home.  Then I believed them and so I knew I would get better.  I was so stupid.  I am not a mother because I wanted to get stoned and fall in love.



“You do it to yourself, and that’s why it really hurts.”

( Radiohead )



Post script…


I recovered.  Stacey lives with her dad now.  I cried all the time for months.  I felt like a failure.  I had lots of therapy sessions and she convinced me that I couldn’t help getting ill and it was not my fault.  But I was ridiculously stupid falling for men who didn’t love me and putting a higher price on fun than doing what I long to do now which is be a mother.  I realised now what love is.  I mean I am a mother but only for a few hours on a Sunday afternoon.  More of a spectator now.


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