Fighting seems to have become a huge part of my life in many different forms.
There is the terrifying physical fighting that occurs towards Little from Big. The kind of fighting that is so violent that it sometimes feels like I’m running in slow motion to try and stop it because so much hurt can be done within seconds.
There is the fighting to get some (any) support for my children. The fighting to get people to listen, the fighting to try to make people understand, the fighting between just nodding my head and smiling or letting everything spill out that I want to spill out.
There is the fighting that my body is doing to itself. I am leaving my body to medical science because hopefully they can learn something about autoimmune conditions from studying my body that insists on waging war upon itself.
There is the fight that occurs in my head at the end of everyday. ‘Am I doing a good enough job?’ “Could I have done that better?’ ‘Why couldn’t I remember to do …’
Then there is the hardest fight. The fight to show my eldest that she is safe with me, that she can trust me, that she can love me and laugh with me. It’s a tricky fight because I’m going into it with both arms and my heart wide open and she’s going into it heart closed and fists raised. While I’m fighting to show her that she can depend on me, she’s fighting her own battle to prove how unloveable she is, making me give up first.Her defence is push me away and it’s so hard not to make retreat my main defence strategy. Constantly being pushed back makes it hard to keep fighting, but she needs me too.
So I need to find the reserves to keep fighting. To keep saying ‘good morning’, to keep kissing and hugging, to keep smiling and to hope that at some point there is a wee chink in her defence and that the fight eases slightly. Because we’re tired. And we could do with a wee chink.
The best bits
The girls played for 20 minutes today by themselves and then tidied up perfectly. It was amazing!
We went out on the bikes this afternoon. Little decided she was taking her scoot bike over a grassy hill. She persevered and persevered and shouted ‘yay!’ when she got to the top then scooted over to come and tell us. It was really nice seeing her so proud of herself.