Torn



They’re struggling.

The thing that hurts me most is that they are not talking. It’s making them grow up quicker than I wanted them to, it’s taking away their innocence. I wanted to give them a stable environment until they finished school, and I’ve let them down, I’ve failed to do that for them. I feel bad that I couldn’t hang it together for all of us until that point.

“Talk to me,” I said.

“I’m fine, Mummy”, said one, eyes heavy with tears. “I wouldn’t know what to say”, shrugged the other one, feigning nonchalance.

“How about writing it down?” I suggested. “Writing it down can help you sort out your feelings, and writing it out sometimes gets things out that are stuck inside you”. One still shrugged, but the other one got out a notepad and pen. She wrote furiously, teeth digging in to her bottom lip until they almost drew blood. Handed it to me and announced she was going to have a bath and didn’t want anyone to disturb her.

Our family is being teared apart. The pictures of us as a family on the wall will be hit by a hammer and smashed to pieces. I thought we were the ice cream that never melted but now the boiling, burning sun has come out. Now I don’t believe in the Tooth Fairy, shooting stars or the Easter Bunny. I will stop believing those things until life makes me smile again.



We had a big cuddle. I said we would be smiling all the time and having a lot of fun, that Daddy and I would be great friends without fighting and everything would be ok.

Different, but still ok.

Jesus I hope I am right. I don’t how much reassurance to offer.