The Voice

I've found this quite hard to write. I write it, go back, rewrite, delete, then start all over again. 

It might be due to the opening of The Door. 

It could be because it sounds like a cry for help. But even though what I'm writing may sound that way, it isn't really. It's all part of it, part of the process. All part of the task ahead and the current state of play. I do feel that I need to write this about the following though; I am not writing this to fish for compliments, for friends and family to say I'm doing amazing and not to doubt myself. Nor am I writing as some sort of ego trip or a longing for affirmation that would validate my actions. I am also not writing this for some great outpouring of sympathy. I am acutely aware that I am not the first, or last, person to be going through this or the only one facing trials in life. Although it's about me, it's not really for me. This blog has never been about that. I don't want to be The Number One Dad singular. I would much prefer to be Back Up Dad to The Number One Mam. 

I am writing this because I know Aden and Hallie will read this one day. It is my sincere hope that they will read it and understand why I behaved in such a manner and why I made the decisions I made and will make in the future. Those times when I was stressed and lost my temper. Those times in the evening when I was tired and frustrated and snapped at them. Those times when I got it wrong. Those times, and there are many, when I just didn't know what to do. 

If truth be told I struggle with practically everything. And I struggle on a daily basis. On the outside it looks like I'm doing a good job and I'm coping admirably, but I'm plagued with doubt and worry, especially when it comes to the children. I feel I snap a lot. I feel that I say no too often. I feel incredibly guilty when I shout at them or get upset about something they have or haven't done even though I know that parents up and down the land, since the beginning of time, have gone through or are going through the exactly same thing. Children test barriers often and regularly. It's the nature of it. I just feel hopeless sometimes, most times. 

I wonder constantly if Laura would have done this or that even though I know that that in itself is holding my actions to a high, near impossible, standard. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Laura was a far better parent than I'll ever be. I tend to hold my annoyance more than Laura did. She was patient and understanding, I'm having to learn to be that. If they do something wrong my automatic response is that I want them to learn something from it but then I stupidly go about that lesson in the completely wrong way. I know this for a fact. I get it wrong because I'm approaching the whole scenario like an adult instead of a child. I have found that looking at it from their point of view is better, however, that thinking totally escapes me in the heat of the moment and I only think of it later. And mostly when it's too late. Everything is easier with the power of hindsight. 

I worry about the future. Their future. Will they be okay without the balance that Laura would have provided? I worry about my ability to be both parents. I don't even know if that's a feasible goal. 

I worry about my own health and about always being there for them. I've never worried about diet and exercise as much as I do now. I have never been so aware of my age and mortality as I am now. And even though I worry about it, ironically I don't do much to change it. I get into a panic about this regularly. 

I worry that I should talk to them about Laura more than we do. I worry that they are bottling up a lot of pain. I wonder what they are thinking. I know, writing this, makes me feel awful, as I should actually know what they are thinking or at least have a good idea. But in truth, I don't. We talk about Laura often, we mention her often, we look at her phone every day for memories but we don't talk about how they feel about it. I just don't want to upset them. They have gotten upset in the past so I don't want to do that to them again. Should I wait and let it run its course or should I meet it head on or should I subtly broach the subject? Until now I have been content to let them come to me and watch for any signs but I am worried that they are bottling too much up. What if they are afraid to come to me as they think they'll upset me? It can't be a good thing. We are in completely uncharted territory and the guide says that everyone reacts differently. So what exactly am I meant to do? 

All these fears are very real. They keep me awake at night. They sap my motivation. They chip away at my will power. There are good days and bad. On those bad days, and nights, I listen to The Voice.

The Voice lives in my head. The Voice is my own. But it is also not. It gives me advice and repeats everything that everyone is saying and thinking. All those supportive and helpful things. The Voice can be wise and assured. The Voice tells me in the midnight hour, whilst the kids are sleeping, that I needn't stress, that I shouldn't worry, that everything will be okay if I stick to my instincts. The Voice tells me that stressing about details and how I'm doing overall will help no one. The Voice echoes exactly what everyone is saying, that it's an incredibly tough task and I'm doing just fine. The Voice always gives me real advice that seems to point that things will be okay. But as with everything, there is an opposite force. The Negativity. The Negativity doesn't have a voice. It just is. It's background noise. A niggle. A worry. It chips in opinion like a heckler. I want to ignore it but I can't. It lingers. Even though it doesn't have a Voice, it doesn't make it any less pertinent or diminish its presence in any way. Even in the darkness it casts a shadow. 

There are times when I try to bend my will to make that voice sound like Laura. It never works. It is probably just as well. She'd probably tell me off for doubting myself and remind me that I have a job to do. However I do listen to The Voice and it calms me. I concentrate on it and try to block everything else out. It is difficult. The negativity is a creeping sense of panic, of anxiety and when it threatens to engulf me in the middle of the night or numb me in the loneliness of the day, and those overwhelming times when I miss Laura most, The Voice manages to lull me to sleep or motivates me into action. I've recently realised that The Voice isn't one person. It's you. It's all of you. It's what you said in passing. It's a note on messenger. It's a kind word. It's a gesture. A smile. A hello. 

Thank you for giving your kindness to The Voice. 

Precious Time

I didn't like my job. There I've said it. I did like it initially and probably for about half the 27 years I did it I did enjoy it. There were times in the other half that it was okay, times when I worked with really good people but generally I didn't enjoy it. Working 6 days a week, early starts, late finishes, 14 hour shifts (also known as AFD, All F*cking Day), rude customers, strict licencing laws, unachievable bonus system, shit wages, treated like a suspect if there were (explainable) stock shortages yet never rewarded for all the surpluses, no real work/balance, I could go on as the list is long. But, as usual, the great disclaimer, it paid the bills. 

I remember when the slide into my dislike happened. It was about 9 years ago. And it was when Aden was born. 

At first shift work is a bonus. I managed my shifts around Aden and it saved us a fortune on childcare and also meant I could have some quality time with him. The ultimate downside, however, is that in my profession I had to work weekends. This was compounded even further when Hallie arrived two years later and Aden started nursery. By the time both of them were at school/nursery my time with them was limited to the occasional evening and the one afternoon of the weekend. Even those evenings after you consider feeding them and getting them ready for bed, coupled with my own tiredness, it isn't that much time at all. I missed so much. Laura often attended their friends birthday parties and any special occasions without me as I "had to go to work". 

It annoys me on many levels to this day. I/we missed so many things together that other families did regularly. Going away for the day or weekend or simply making plans that didn't involve me either saying I couldn't go or do it, or keeping an eye on the clock when I was able to. I missed all that due to my job. Even when I said it paid the bills, it did. Just. Considering the job I was doing and the responsibility it entailed, the wage wasn't great. So I lament the fact that I sacrificed everything for a job that fundamentally didn't pay me well, had zero work/life balance and I basically didn't enjoy. It became even more apparent when Covid resulted in the entire licence trade going into lockdown. Lockdown, for me, was actually a blessing. Yes, I had the time to be more involved with the kids, from home-schooling to teaching them how to ride a bike but it was also about that time when Laura was first diagnosed with Primary Breast Cancer. So not only did it dawn on me how much time with the kids I had actually missed out on but it also, with Laura's diagnosis, brought into sharp focus how much more important family life is and how precious that time is.

The one thing that really gets me now is that Laura spent so much time with them in my absence and now all those memories have gone. I don't just mean the days away and occasions that there are pictures and memories of and details that others can supply, I mean the actual detail. Laura had a great memory for detail. She will have remembered all their firsts, silly little things that happened and things unique to them. She would have shared these things with me but I didn't bank them because you don't really think that way. I just presumed that Laura would always be here and therefore all her memories and stories would be intact too. While it could be argued that it's not worth getting upset about, that I need to concentrate on the future and making new memories, I still feel that loss acutely. There's a the wider issue to that loss. When my parents passed I wished I asked more questions regarding their history, our history. With Laura's passing and the subsequent loss of her memories, stories and thoughts, I feel a huge emptiness coupled with bitter disappointment as they cannot be replaced.

So why didn't I change things? I knew the job wasn't conducive to family life, so why didn't I do something about it? Well, I was too lazy and afraid. I was stuck in my ways. We used to talk about it often. Laura would urge me to do it and constantly remind me that it was only me that could do it, that it's not going to fall into my lap. We very rarely had crossed words but when we did it was always about my job. It wasn't just the kids I didn't see much of. I knew of some friends who have actually left the trade and it was the best thing they had every done. Their family life was now rich and full. But I didn't. I'd look for a bit, consider the options and promptly slip back into my old ways.

So I wish I had been braver. I missed too much. I sacrificed too much. The happiness. All those precious times and all that precious time. I can't take it back. But you can. If you feel you are missing out, then you probably are. If you feel something needs to change, then it probably does. Not everyone is in the same position. Many people with 9 to 5 jobs may not feel the same as they have weekends off and that bit of quality time but there will probably still be something that you are able to change for the better. It has been said to me on more than a few occasions recently that my situation has made some husbands and partners re-evaluate their own situation. Some wonder if their husbands will have coped as well as I have (more on this subject soon) as they don't have anything to do with finances and household administration etc,. Meanwhile husbands and partners have openly admitted to me that they don't have anything to do with certain things domestically and that they should really address this. Let me say this, I didn't either, so all of this is very new to me. Laura was this household. I said on the very first post of this blog that I'm mainly writing this for the kids and for myself but also for anyone else it may help. I said that if I helped just one person then it would be all worthwhile. This may be one of those occasions. The household dynamic doesn't always have to be the same. It isn't written in stone. Nothing will change unless you make changes.

Don't live to work. Take action. Have courage. We only get one shot at this. Your time is unbelievably precious. Remember that.