Escape is nigh: out of the frying pan and into the fire

Well, well, well.....

Solutions have come. In this blog it looks as though solutions have come quickly, but as this blog is the climax of two years of angst and hand-wringing, well, it has not really.

Dave took the map of the problematique to his Dad for discussion. I am not altogether sure what he said (although I have the feeling that it was something along the lines of my 'declining health', judging by the reaction we got).
Hence we are now firing on all cylinders and are due to move out of Monifieth after the Xmas period (or, to be more accurate, slap bang in the middle of the Xmas period). We have adequate space now booked in a storage facility for the 27th of December and are in the midst of cutting the very thin emotional ties with this place.

"But wait!" I hear you cry.
"Why on earth have you booked a space in a storage facility?"
"Has your quest to live nearer the city centre taken such a dramatic turn that you are willing to live in a scary storage facility?"

Er, no.

For one thing, it is actually illegal to live on site (but very tempting - the prices are excellent and it's certainly a lot roomier and warmer than some of the places we have stayed in).

No no no.....something far worse has happened.

We are moving in with my Father-In-Law.


Ok, it's perhaps not as bad as I am painting it, but I just feel so very...lost. It's taken me a good six years to get to the stage I am at now - nice tenant in cosy flat of her own, with family, pays her own utilities that she has arranged and can do whatever the hell she wants whenever she wants (within reason). I can use the phone if I like, spend all day on the internet, read a book on the loo, have a long relaxing bath with a glass of wine, leave my clothes on the the floor - because I am the one who will have to deal with any consequences. For instance, I am right now at this very moment sitting tapping away at the laptop in my towel and nothing else. Nice. It's the way I like it.
Sure, if I get an unexpected visitor, then things may be slightly askew (it is after all mid-afternoon - shock), but lets face it, it's just not going to happen.

I am about to be plunged into someone elses family, who are very nice, but very multiple. And noisy. And annoying. And if I am annoyed or upset, I will have to hide it, so that I don't annoy or upset them.

They are going to take ownership of everything that I have - my son, my dog, my husband. I am not so good at sharing these. These are the things that keep me going, and if they are taken away I will be destroyed. I am barely clinging on at the moment, and I am not too sure if I have the strength to take a stand and fight on.

Father In law is very nice, very respectful, very...controlling at times. I fear now that I am about to lose my son - that he will be sucked into this whole clan-like atmosphere and that he will just not need me anymore.
I fear that my husband will revert back to being the diligent son, never misbehaving, never crossing the line, never being himself. He and his father have such a sterile relationship at times. It means that when we are around him he treats me in much the same way. It seems so alien, it is quite upsetting. He doesn't even know or realise that he does it.

I feel so bad, so awful, so evil, so disrespectful, so lost, so lonely, so tired, so done.
I feel guilty, after all this is all being done for me!

I am the one who isn't happy here, I am the one who isn't coping. I feel destroyed.

I just want to go home, wherever that may be.
How can you be homesick for somewhere you have never been?

So there you have it: out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Of course it has it's positives.
"Ah well, there you go" you say.
"It will be worth it. You can use this time to save up for a place of your own. Someting that you can choose, that is right for YOU".

I hear you.
I'm just so scared.
What is is this going to do to our marriage? Our parental relationship with our son?
Will I come home one night to find that the dog is missing because after 14 years of careful ownership someone has been daft enough to leave the front door open?
I should be positive - it's a change away from the two year hell I've pulled myself through. This past two years I have never felt so depressed about life; about my supposed friends, the deep lonliness and solitude that has eaten away at my soul. Therefore I should be excited at the prospect of companionship, building bridges with my 'new family'. Being closer to like minded individuals who kind of care.

I should be.

I feel so sick.
But this is something I have to do - for my family. For my future happiness. For the family still to be.

That's another thing that is bothering me.

Dave and I had decided (before this) to try for another baby. Now that we are moving in with his dad, it seems unrealistic. Could you imagine if I added crazy hormones to the mix?
Clutching at straws. I guess I just know that the only way I am going to find kinship is through my own.
Plus the fact that I can't resist the idea of a new addition; if he or she is anything like small one year old boy, I would be delighted - he is such a joy.

Ah well, enough moping and moaning. I must get dressed and head to the shops.
It is the hubby's birthday on Saturday and I want to make it a really great one.

He really deserves it for putting up with me.

Fairweather Friends, I like you not

Dave and I have just had a very emotionally charged morning, so to speak. And not in a good way.
A lot of tears and talking as my feelings about living here explode into the room. That is a large problem I always have and have always had; I am quite a see-through person and my feelings are never on the down-low for very long. Having said that, I am a very patient person - I can take a lot of knocks before I am put right out. For me, the knocks have been coming for around two years now (since we moved here). Each time I have tried to reinvent myself,turn the situation around to see if it fits better the other way, only for it to become a tighter squeeze. I think I have a knack for reading people - in the same way that you can tell EXACTLY how I am feeling, I can usually discern other people's feeling too.

Being knocked takes a variety of forms. From various friends and their various reasons for not meeting up after I have made the effort of finding a babysitter and crossing the great plains in order to meet up for a drink before the last bus home, to those who come up with a myriad of excuses as to why they cannot come over for the meal I took hours to prepare. The old woman who made me cry in the street when I was heavily pregnant after my dog pooped on the grass of her sheltered housing complex (I picked it up, of course I did - I had it picked up before she came out of her house to purposely berate me). The way in which everybody stood and stared or laughed as we struggled home with our shopping and our sleeping baby. The multiple hours wasted waiting on buses that disappear from the electronic timetable and the countless apologies for being late as a result. The fact that every visitor complains about climbing the stairs and rarely comes back. The way my scar twinges as I hit the third set. The longing to have another baby, but the fear of going through the whole charade up and down these stairs with a toddler in tow is castrating. The day after day and hour after hour of feeling trapped, alone and lonely; the feeling that if I died or if something went terribly wrong, nobody would know, perhaps for days.
Nor does it feel like they would care enough to do anything about it.

My friends ("friends") have gradually in the last year sloped off into the shadows, one by one. I now have fleeting friends - ones who are there for the good times and not much else.
Unsurprisingly, this is getting me down - after all, this year has been the toughest of my life. I had a baby and got married! There are no words to explain the crazy feelings that have been whirling around my brain (being secluded from my social world has definitely not helped), but where have all my so-called friends been during it all?
I can count on one hand the good, genuine friends who have really made an effort with me. And I don't think I am an unreasonable or bad friend. I have ALWAYS been there for all of my friends through their various traumas. From coaxing them through relationship mishaps, work issues, family dilemmas, I always seem to be the first person that any of them turn to. Perhaps as I am in this position in my life with a family and house etc, I seem more settled and stuff, which means that I look like I have a lot of experience, which I suppose I do.
But come on people!
Where's my loving?

I can feel my attitudes towards life and friendships changing as a result. It's terrible. How?

Well, for example, I used to make a huge effort with other folk on their birthdays. To me, that was important. I was the one who baked a cake, made a fuss over people who generally claimed they didn't want any, but were chuffed to bits when someone actually cared enough to make the effort for them. I prided myself on not just buying a nice gift, but took great, great care to get it so right. I didn't go over the top - I just thought that they should feel special.

One month after I had my baby it was my birthday. I was going through a really rough time - I couldn't get out of this god-forsaken house due to the stairs and my c-section (it's a 6 week recovery period). I was really, really down and had bad baby blues.
I recieved two texts - one from a dear friend who lives in another city far away, and one from an old old friend. I also recieved a video email from a friend who was far away in Slovakia at the time (she travels a lot).
That was the sum total. Four cards, all from family. I couldn't have felt less uncared for.
It might not seem like such a big deal, but to me it was. And especially in the circle of mates that I had - birthdays were big important things. There is a huge tradition in our circle where birthdays are scared. For all the females out there who know about the secret girl code (you will hear me alluding to this in the future) - you know, the secret code that isn't a code that is really a way of telling other girls how you really feel while at the same time pretending to be nice/genuine etc?
Well I read the code and the code said "Fuck You".
Not a nice feeling.

Anyway, I guess what I am trying to say is that the lesson that I have learned here is that friends are sometimes fairweather and will desert you when you need the most. And perhaps it's best to let them slink off into the shadows.
Part of the reason that Dave and I argued this morning and have these horrible discussions is definitely due to these "friends". After all, friendship is a two way street. I could have done with a shoulder to lean on this last year, and it never came. And as much as I can blame Monifieth for it, perhaps it was the kick up the arse my life needed.
After all now I am stronger, thicker skinned and more wary of fleeting friendships that simply take advantage with no return.

And I have discovered, in the old fashioned way, who my real and true friends really are.
It's very surprising.

I now have a new circle of friends - I'm not sure if they are real or not, but they seem like very nice lads and ladies.
And this time I know where I'm at.
And I'm prepared.

Day one of the rest of my life

Today is just another one of those days. I'm ill - I have some sort of flu-type thing (please dear god, do not let it be the dreaded swine) - Dave (the hubby) has left me at home with small one year old boy in order to go to work. He did his usual "here is some toast and some paracetamol - see you later, I'm off", which led to a lot of angry texting and some heavy sobbing from my end.
Something along the lines of "thanks for leaving me in the lurch". It annoys me that he will never have to be in this situation - when he is ill he phones in sick to work and takes a day to chill out while I look after him, make a fuss and cook loving homemade food. I don't get to phone in sick.
Meanwhile, small one year old boy is climbing the walls, the dog and anything else he looks like he can destroy. The power of him is amazing.
Dave thoughtfully (?) also forgot to put a nappy on small one year old boy, which I did not find out until small one year old boy pooed all over the floor (it's ok, it's laminate). Thank goodness I had not drunk any of the orange juice that Dave had left me to line my stomach with (aye, good job Dave).

So here I am, stuck at home watching cbeebies on a loop while I try to eke out every small activity for poor child while I waitwith wobbly head the ten hours for my husband to return home and take over. I am having strong feelings of hatred towards everything right now and it's only because I am stuck and can't do a damned thing about it.

Welcome to me life. You would be forgiven for shutting off and moving on; I really do not care. This is a personal exercise for me. A sanity-keeper. A way of surviving the next however long it takes to get myself out of the situation that I am in.

As you can probably tell, I am a young mother. My 25th birthday was 2 days ago and I was married at the beginning of the year (January 5th). I am also currently at University, doing my Masters (an MLitt in Creative Writing and Theory in Humanities).

And....

I live in this small town just outside of Dundee in Scotland called Monifieth (hence the title of this blog). It's a place which is, simply put, at the arse end of nowhere.
It's not a terrible place - no, indeed it is quite beautiful really. It's a suburban and green with lots of parks and open spaces. There is a cute little village in the centre along a high street, where we live, with a few local shops. It also happens to be home to the largest population of elderly folk in Europe.
There are 11 nursing homes and 2 sheltered housing residences. Four or five churches. Five hairdressers. Three pubs (all terrifying in their own individual ways). A shoesmith. A mobile phone shop. An optician. Two private dentists just about to open (woo) and a discount store. A small ill-equipped library. A small charity shop. Three take-away food varieties. Multiple newsagents. A butcher. A bike shop. A Farmfoods. A small coffee shope (which won't let buggies in).
Oh and a Tesco.

The bus service is...interesting; always late, always packed, always a total nightmare to use. Especially with a baby and buggy in tow.
I would say that nine times out of ten is the statistic for harsh comments about using the buggy/wheelchair space on the bus, especially if an elderly person is sitting there and moves to let you in. They like to make it very clear to you that they "wouldn't have moved", "that space is for wheelchairs, not buggies" and that "it's a disgrace that young lassies aren't working these days, just having kids".
Yes, I've had it all.

On the days that I cannot stand being talked about loudly on the bus for all to hear/feeling like a social outcast for daring to wheel my pram onto the bus (like many mothers get to do I may add! It's not a new service either!)/can't hack the massive expeditions into town we/ I walk to the nearest populated area - Broughty Ferry, where things are larger and you can blend in (just a tiny) bit more. It's a good three miles into the Ferry from where we live and a nice walk if you take the coastal route. If you want to get it out of the way or are in a hurry, walking along the main road is your other option. Of course the elderly in Monifieth rarely venture along the pavements outside of the high street (except via bus) thus the council have thoughtfully decided to save money by ignoring the upkeep of the pavements here which are uneven, ungritted in winter and I'm pretty sure are slowly giving my son brain damage due to all the bumping in his pram when we walk along it.

If it's cold/rainy or we have no money (which is a very frequent occurrence) our choices are thus limited to Monifieth to provide us with our days entertainment. W e then can either head to the park (with equipment which is all currently aimed at an older age group than my small one year old) where we try to keep son's hands out of drains/stop him for eating sand/crawling into the path of bikes ridden by teenage maniacs, or we can head to our ye olde favourite thing to do, which is walk around Monifieth. It's a shopping experience like no other. First we head to the Cats Protection League charity shop which is full of scary junk that should actually - no exaggeration, I promise - be in the bin. It's full of stained sheets, towels, dull brass ornaments with missing bits and tacky holiday souveniers that holidaymakers would have bought in 80's Spain. We always have a good shifty around in the charity shop, as I am a firm believer in charity shop goody finding, but after a year of scouring for that elusive bargain, it is safe to say that there are none, nor will there ever be any. We donated our last batch of unused baby toys thereout of sympathy - at least they will have had something nice on their shelves for a couple of days to keep interest up. One day when Tom is grown up I shall volunteer - it's a small dream of mine to arrange all the shit so that it at least looks its best.

After smiling manically at the shop assistant we then exit the charity shop and meander over the way to the discount store, which smells like the dodgy plastic shoes that they sell. It's the smell of quality goods at discount prices.
Here we pretend to look interested in the various homewares on display, while trying to mentally picture it in any of the people who avtually live in the areas houses. It would just never happen. The people who live around here actually spent a good few months campaigning against the store opening in the first place. Which could have been disaster for us! Apparently it's tacky and brings down the value of the community.
No comment.

We then come out of the discount store and, well, that's it! Unless we wander to Tesco to buy enough beer for us to drown our boredom, we head home. There really is nothing else to do.

As it was my birthday on Tuesday and I am 25 now (and thus more or less a little bit more responsible) I have decided to change my life. I hate it here. It's boring, it's tiresome and it's draining the life out of me. I have spent a year trying to see the positives and to no avail. It grinds me down and so, before it does I am going to do something about it.