On 4 March 2017 I wrote this:

It’s been quite a month and word count is back…

The Saint and I have had three massive fights previously – July, September and November. They are always just before my period is due. They always come out of me going mad about the Saint’s feelings or opinions on my daughter’s behaviour. In September, after it had blown up the second time, I just wanted to split up. I felt physically sick and I felt we were being asked to change everything and he was not accepting how we were (which he had known in advance) and wasn’t prepared to change his reactions to some stuff too. I couldn’t see how it could ever work living together. We talked and things got better. Things are not perfect with me and my daughter – far from it – and there’s lots of room for improvement. But also he has never had his own children. I know when I observe people with their children, things strike me that I wouldn’t do or think they are being manipulated by the kid and other people’s kids can be annoying – I have infinite patience for my own offspring who I love unconditionally, but I can’t say the same for other people’s children! And I also think sometimes he is unrealistic of his expectations of my daughter who is six and has had some serious adjusting to do this year. But I also think she is very capable of manipulating a situation (she is no angel either) and she is consumed with jealousy of the Saint, as is he. And we never had those moments together without kids, where you evolve naturally from exclusive relationship to sharing your partner with somebody that you created together… After the fight in November, when he was annoyed because she had walked into the bathroom (to moan at me about something pathetic) without knocking whilst he was in the shower, we also agreed that he had to say to her when her behaviour annoyed him and it wasn’t for me to be the go-between constantly.

I went back to my psychiatrist after that incident. I realised that no matter what the Saint’s opinions and feelings, I had to change my reaction to them which was over the top and irrational. My shrink spoke to my daughter about how good our new situation was and how it was okay to find it difficult and challenging but ultimately it was a good thing that mummy had done for the good of everyone. Things improved massively after that in her behaviour towards the Saint. And the Saint noted down dates I would be hormonal and agreed to tread softly around me those days! (Although I hate that people have to pussyfoot around me – I want to be able to behave in a way that it’s not necessary to do so.) We also discussed maybe having the coil replaced and accept that a child probably wasn’t going to happen anyway and that if I didn’t have a coil in our relationship might not survive anyway. Neither of us wanted to admit that, so I went to acupuncture in December as a way of calming me down when hormonal in a more natural way although for the two sessions I had, I was in my calm period. (Incidentally, the fight at Christmas with my sister coincided with my period arriving so the Saint escaped that one…).

The Saint isn’t always great at articulating his feelings. He has a tendency to store stuff up and not say things. I am the exact opposite because they eat me up and prevent me from eating and sleeping, so I write them out generally. I either blog and work it out myself because it’s my issue, or I send him a mail if it concerns something that we both need to reflect on. In my calm periods, I can see the build up though and I’m aware that it’s like a runaway train gaining momentum as incident after incident is added but I convince myself it will be okay this month, we’ll know how to get through it. I have to say he has been amazing during this difficult time – a quiet, solid support and I am massively appreciative and have told him over and over again. He hasn’t had much attention lately and moments on our own just the two of us have been few and far between. We’ve had one “normal week” basically this year which was the first week of January for 4 days before dad went in hospital. And he’s been surrounded by three people who have all been quite emotional in a way that the Saint, whilst upset for us and also sad that my dad who he liked has passed, isn’t involved with on the same level.

Against all this, whilst dad was in hospital, I was threatened with legal action over my blog. Lawyers were consulted and I was advised I had blogged anonymously without mentioning names so there was no grounds for legal action. It was a very upsetting and traumatic time (especially given dad was dying) and whilst I understood where that person was coming from, I stood by every word I had written and also this is what has worked for me so well for so long. Is that selfish of me? Dad wrote in the front of Bad Blood “people don’t write about happy families”. The thing I had written about was a huge problem for me and at various times I had asked to be totally left out of it because I couldn’t handle the feelings it stirred in me. It was an unrealistic demand of mine though, so I found offloading on here about it and getting input from other alcoholics gave me an outlet and advice on how to deal with the situation. But I really understand how gutting it would have been to read my darkest thoughts on the matter if you were in the middle of it with no right to reply feeling totally judged, misrepresented and betrayed.

When this happened, the Saint was in Paris. He came back exhausted and had gone straight to bed that night so we didn’t get to discuss it. But also because he fell asleep in the room downstairs, I didn’t go in my daughter’s room to sleep on the bottom bunk and went in the master bedroom. The next morning, at 5am, my daughter woke up and went to find me to join me in my bed and had assumed it was the Saint in the master bedroom so went downstairs and inadvertently woke him up. He was overtired, and really cross with my daughter. I said she had tried her best and said that it was my fault as I should have put a note on the door to say where mummy was. He said she should be in her room all night aged 6. I agree with that, in principle. In practice, I don’t want my children to think they can’t come and find me in the middle of the night if they want to. We had cross words about it though and that night I took the kids to a hotel because I had all the shit with the legal action hanging over me and I wanted to concentrate on that and also didn’t trust myself not to blow up at the Saint.

My periods are a mess at the moment – I seem to be having them closer together and kind of have a false start with a gush of bleeding then nothing for a couple of days (is that the onset of the menopause…? Or is it because I’ve not been sleeping or eating…?) and so I wasn’t due on at that time and assumed I was so intolerant because of the legal action threat. Anyway, I came home and put the kids to bed and before we could get a chance to talk, mum phoned to say dad had deteriorated. The Saint had gone to bed whilst I was on the phone. I was heartbroken and, although I didn’t know whether he would be welcoming, I went and joined him in bed because I needed a cuddle. I spent the night there – I couldn’t sleep anyway as I was too upset, so his snoring didn’t make the slightest difference! He was so pleased that we’d spent a night together, and also aware of how upset I was, that the argument of that week got forgotten that weekend. He was away all the next week with work so we had no chance to talk and then dad died and life as we knew it was turned upside down.

I know my period is due (I also suspect that this will manifest itself at the moment in being uncontrollably distraught about dad – a new warning sign) even though it shouldn’t be, but the physical and emotional signs are there. When the Saint looks annoyed with my daughter when I am hormonal, my mouth goes totally dry and my throat struggles to swallow. I get consumed by a sense of panic. That I can’t fix it. That I’ve made a huge mistake. I feel defensive of my daughter that she is 6 and has to watch absolutely everything she does and think about everything so she doesn’t get on the wrong side of the Saint. I just want to run. Or fight. Flight or fight. I know this. I know the signs. The Saint also knows the signs (says it’s in my eyes). So I was actually quite proud of how I managed to walk away from it on Friday night with minimal nastiness. Saturday morning, I took my daughter dancing. Usually I can see where my daughter has pushed things or where she or I have behaved badly or inappropriately. But this time, I really couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see how her giving me a cuddle to comfort me was wrong in any way. At all. He had had a bad day at work and taken it out on us was how it felt. I wondered if I would feel that way if I wasn’t hormonal and I was convinced I would. None of us know how to navigate our emotions right now – we’re in uncharted territory and all handling it as we can depending on what hits us when. When we got back from dancing, the Saint didn’t come out to see us, so I decided to make lunch for me and the kids. I went upstairs to check in on my son and get the computer. The Saint came up and knocked on the bedroom door and asked if I was “better”. I turned around and asked what he meant and he said “oh I can see you’re not” and walked away. I followed him, shouting about being sick of being to blame for everything when hormonal and that he should look at his behaviour just because he’d had a bad day to take it out on me and my daughter who are grieving and that it was also nice to know that he thought I was a slag. It totally degenerated into mudslinging then. He stood by his accusation of our mother/daughter roles. I said I couldn’t live with someone who made my daughter feel like she couldn’t comfort me at a time of great sorrow and that he was 100 percent wrong this time. He asked if that meant I wanted him to leave, I said it did. He then said he wouldn’t go. I said I would pay for a hotel for him. He said he was staying in HIS house. I snapped and said it had all been a huge mistake, that he’d been utterly mad to want to live with us when he couldn’t handle the relationship with my daughter and launched at him. I bit him and drew blood with my nails and he left the house. I immediately felt a huge sense of relief and got back to making lunch for the kids. The 8 minutes it took for the spaghetti to cook, the police rang the doorbell. He’s pressed charges… So the police came in to a calm scene of my daughter doing her homework, my son setting the table and me serving the lunch and looked a bit perplexed. The officer asked me what had gone on and I explained the whole thing. He said “so you’re not denying anything?” and i said absolutely not, that I assumed responsibility for my behaviour. He asked if it had happened before. I said it had and I was seeing my psychiatrist about it although I hadn’t seen him much lately being in England and also having other more pressing things to discuss in my latest sessions given that my dad had died. He said that clearly it couldn’t continue and I said I couldn’t agree more and he said a potential separation was nothing to do with the police, so just think of the kids and sort things out reasonably. I’ve not heard from the Saint since. A French friend who gives no-holds barred advice said she was baffled by the police involvement because it’s not like in a divorce where you have to prove unreasonable behaviour. I just buy him out of the house and end of story. He can’t sue me for anything and the police said it wouldn’t be followed up either. But it’s kind of final… You can’t put that back in a box and move on from it easily.

There is this total disconnect with me when hormonal. I feel like I have to withdraw from people to spare them from me and also because I can’t trust myself to respond reasonably to whatever is said or done around me. My feelings and reactions scare me. There is no sense of perspective and I lurch from blind panic around people to utter relief when I am on my own. The feelings are also not just mental – paranoia, persecution, insecurity – but also physical – the racing heart, the dry mouth, the physical shaking. I want to isolate totally for damage limitation reasons yet outside of these hormonal periods I feel that I function just fine. My friend last night said there has to be some medication that isn’t contraception to deal with the hormonal swings but my psychiatrist and gynaecologist haven’t been able to suggest anything when we have discussed it (and I’ve been very upfront about the issues with both). I’ve wondered at times if I wasn’t bipolar but my psychiatrist is fairly convinced that it is linked to my hormones (and was proved really when I was on the coil!) and he has been seeing me on and off for ten years now and has seen me through a divorce, alcoholism, having a baby on my own, sobriety and a new relationship. I think he’s in a good position to know. We have also discussed Borderline Personality Disorder, but again, when not hormonal I don’t feel any of those things. I’m seeing him on Thursday and we’ll discuss it further again.

But the facts remain that this year, I’ve been threatened with legal action and the police have been called. So there’s something badly amiss! No smoke without fire and all that… No matter how much I feel in the right at the outset, my behaviour overshadows any (perceived) slight or wrong at the start. I can’t even sit here saying I’m grieving and try to plead for clemency . This was happening before. I don’t know what to say. I just don’t want to edit my story and present a one-sided version of events where my bad behaviour goes unrecorded. I need the whole picture to learn from and I feel that this blog is where I have been honest and I can’t be selective about what I share. The ugly side of sober expatmum…

xxx