This has to be one large test of my fortitude. I have managed to spend the week quite well. If I pretend 'It' simply does not exist, life is okay. Then, just as I master it and start feeling like I can enjoy my life again - something else happens.

Tonight we play games again. He blocks access to an account by changing a password. I text him asking why. A while later, he offers the password with no explanation as to why he would change it. For 20 minutes I try logging in and the password doesn't work - suddenly, after 20 mins of ignoring my arsey texts, the password works and I get sucked straight back in to the world of mind games and control. I think my own sim card and not letting anyone that knows him have the number is the answer. If he cannot get hold of my number than he cannot drive me around the twist.

Then, as if not agitated enough, I get informed by someone that there was an occasion last year or possibly further back - that he had claimed he was on a photo shoot with a certain person. Yet, when they had rung that certain person - they knew nothing of a photo shoot and were not with him. I am having to breathe very deeply, the informant had the attitude that since 'It' had already proven to be someone all too capable of telling lie after lie - that it made little difference how long he had been lieing for.

In essence they are right but it's very hard not knowing how long you have been lied to. It is very hard suspecting that the truth is that most of your marriage was probably one big shame. It is even harder accepting that the one person that could tell you the truth is the one that has been lying to your face and is now the least likely ever to admit how long the lies have been going on. I will never know. All I can know is the man I thought was honest, is in fact a liar that plays unending control games.

I love my children deeply, I can never imagine not having them in my life and not for one second would I change that. However, I deeply, deeply regret meeting their father.

I have changed my mind about the neck nuzzling. The next man that looks like he might want to nuzzle my neck is straight in there. I don't know why I was worried about having a meaningless relationship - it appears that I have been already been having one of those for the large part of my life.

I am not really the Bingo kinda girl. Or in fact, chocolate. Never really got the whole female obsession with the stuff and whilst I don't mind the odd bit of dark chocolate - on the whole I prefer nuts (though I am off some varieties at present).

So, on Saturday night we went to Chocolate Bingo. I had tried to persuade all offspring that we deserved a meal out but the Teenager worries too much about money. I am trying to win him around to the idea that occasionally we all deserve a treat but he worries too much. Instead, we went to Chocolate Bingo because it was local and it cost a mere 50p.

One of the little ones got half way through before declaring that he had enough of not winning and was now going to win. I liked his attitude, we didn't get any chocolate but that kind of spirit will get him far.

I realised that I am more than a little stupid. The teenager and friend disappeared home to cook dinner and threw a heap of Bingo cards in my direction. Not being a regular at the eyes down type affair - I laid them all in front of me an got to the point of hyperventilating before I realised that the nine cards were for 9 games and not for one. We played one, we lost. We probably won 15 tonnes of chocolate but since I couldn't keep up - we lost.

I learnt something else - try to juggle to many balls and you will drop all of them. So, my house is a mess, it is falling apart and I need to repaint everywhere. The garden has no grass, the dog has dug up all of my plants and there is chicken pooh everywhere. Two options - fall apart or pick a couple of things I can achieve. So I am picking a couple: I am still very limited by a lot of pain, so I can rule out decorating. I can just currently just about manage the washing. The knee has been given my own mental deadline of 2 weeks at which point, the not unattractive single man that lives opposite is going to help me tend my lawn, he has even offered to go and get the stuff I need. I may take up gardening more regularly.

Yet more things are broken. The phone is the bain of my life. It rings, the screen goes blank. It goes onto answering machine but the handset goes off before you can play it back. I give up, I resign myself to it all. So the phone doesn't work, the mobile is faulty - less time to talk, more time to get on with things. This is not necessarily bad. It is more peaceful and those that know me, know to text. Part of the car innards are now trailing on the tarmac. This is not good but the car is still going forwards, so it cannot be that bad. The new me, no sweat for the small stuff

We had a roast lunch cooked for us today. How utterly civilised. Strange thing this roast lunch malarkey. In one sense it is very homely and very grounding and in another it strikes the fear of God into me. I feel like I am preparing to die. Living in a house with an Aga had the same effect on me. All too conventional, all to predictable, all too safe and all too much like someone is holding my head under water. Yet at the same time, all very comforting and normal. I am a mixed up person.

I have now spent two hours making a Caterpillar outfit. Someone suggested inflatable swimming rings, which was a fantastic idea. Then I saw the stage and realised that my little grub would take up most of it, knock the two other grubs off and would grow up with a complex about the day he was the fat caterpillar. I couldn't do it - I must be getting soft. So the Caterpillar is almost complete when I realise that the other child is a Bug Inspector and I have to sew bugs on a lab coat.

I hate sewing, really, really hate it but I still remember the red letter box outfit that my Dad made me when I was little girl. I don't remember much about the outfit, more that my Dad made it and I won. This is what memories are made of. My little grub won't remember that he actually looked like a green cow with 6 black udders, he will remember that his mother turned him into a fantastic green caterpillar.

When, in years to come - my boys are choosing my care home, those memories will come flooding back and so, if it takes sewing black udders for an entire evening - it will be more than worth it.

I have now survived 11 days without a cigarette and am now an intermittent drug user rather than an addict.

This is clearly cut and paste week. The Internet is both friend and foe - the ease in which little nuggets can be retrieved is mind blowing, the ability to find such succinct phrase serves to make the rest of us mere mortals realise how poor our English and ability to express is.

I like this definition of Integrity. An unsung word and I fear, an unsung attribute but one on the whole - a good thing to have.

Integrity comes from the Greek words 'integritas' and 'integra' meaning whole. It enters into any aspect of one's life. It's belief system without faltering no matter how dangerous, how unpopular the person makes themselves to others. It includes: sincerity, keeping one's word and agreements, honesty, truthfulness, ethics, fairness and justice, punctuality and never faltering for what one believes in. A quote regarding integrity is 'It is better to have an enemy who keeps his word, than a friend who does not.'

Followed by the Definition of no integrity

Having no Integrity comes from the male word 'Ingratiates and insincere 'meaning A***hole. It enters into the middle age years of life. It's belief system comes to a grinding halt faced with the possibility of walking away from all that is taxing. This may or may not include family and may or may not have been preceded by the fascination of a woman that looks like the mother of any male inflicted with no integrity.

In a bid to keep on having the last say, the sufferer of no integrity may feel compelled to place yet another bill in the name of the Mother of his Children, confident that the lack of financial Independence will cause another strike on the control tally. Lack of integrity will force denial, despite the electricity company claiming written confirmation that said lacking in integrity was no longer residing at the family home and no longer responsible for bills. As such, any such behaviour succeeds in fulfilling the definition of having no integrity at all.

I feel like I am in the playground of life and dealing with the little spiteful squirt that always flicks something at the back of your head when the teacher isn't looking and works hard at looking like the saint when she is.

I went out last night. In my new 'rise above it' phase, I made myself and geed up by the odd stray painkiller and a couple of Vodkas - I was rather glad I did. The woman next to us, overhearing our conversation - told me that her husband walked out after 19 years ago.

"I could spend the rest of my life with you - but I don't want to" He told her

I pointed out that he must have had some morals, since he was polite enough to tell her first.

Anyhow, it turns out they are back together and at this point, he had simply nipped no further than the toilet.

"You are a stronger woman than I am, you must love him very mush" I said

"Actually, I hate him" She said.

Turns out that the children were devastated, and she loves them more than him. When the time is right - she will leave him. I felt so sorry for her. On the other hand, I liked the fact that this man will eventually reap what he sowed because I have always believed that eventually, everybody does.

I was given a bunch of flowers on Friday. A lovely kind person and for no other reason than to make me smile. In the same week I was given a pot of Hyacinths and a box of homemade muffins. At the end of last year, my self esteem was at an all time low - I often doubt myself, I often fear that people don't like me or that I am not nice.

'It' informed me recently that I do the very occasional and odd nice thing, but for most of the time I am a complete bitch. Perhaps he is right - but at the moment I am doubting his words. I am realising that there are far more people around me that care than I ever imagined possible and those little gestures make me realise that perhaps we spend too long worrying about what other people may or may not think. As long as you have people that are prepared to do those kind little gestures, you know that you will be okay because these people care enough to make sure you are okay.

When someone gives you homemade muffins, they are not just giving you cake; they have thought about you, baked them, packaged them and then delivered them and in so doing, found a way to make you realise they are thinking of you. It may be that they feel utterly useless in transforming your life to a place of instant happiness but are just trying to say that they are with you on the way. As long as you have these kind of people around you, you will never really be lonely and current events - no matter how shocking - have made me realise that my low self esteem was my issue and one that I spent so long dwelling on, that I failed to notice all the people around me that really didn't think I was that bad. See, there is good in everything.

Years ago I had a boyfriend that used to tell me that you are born alone and you will die alone. He taught me many things, most did come in handy and most certainly will in the future!!! but I always thought his words were a little harsh. I have realised that in some ways he is right and in others, very wrong. You are not borne alone - you are borne on your own. If you are lucky and you have a life filled with people that care then you will not die alone, by yourself definitely, but certainly not on your own.

You do reap what you sow in life, if you don't take the time to think of others, if you share nothing and give nothing then you may well die alone. The next time a friend of mine has a crisis - I will be making muffins.

What comes around goes around.

Now, having worn out every cliche I can think of, I am going to bed to read school reports.

Blogging is such a strange place to be. Nobody really knows who you are and so you are free to write things that would be difficult to articulate, the very fact that you do not know who is reading it - prevents you writing with the freedom of thoughts in your head. Where it goes wrong is when you are aware that there are some that probably dip in occasionally and in so doing - prevent you from the honesty that your words should portray.

So on this basis, there are many things that the children say and do - that I want to write about but because their own heads are trying to articulate the circumstances - many of those thoughts and words cannot be committed to words of a momentary blog, simply because they are not my thoughts to commit. They should be committed to something, their thought process is unique and insightful but at this moment - I am not clear where that something should be.

So, I will concentrate on me. I had my eyebrows waxed today. I feel like a new woman again. I had forgotten how much getting my eyebrows done lightens my mood. I feel suitably lightened.

I went out to my favourite place to drink coffee with two friends this morning and we drank........ coffee. We talked about sex, insecurities and my exacting criteria for new men, whilst making Lego sculptures. After the last month it was like coming up for air.

With more of a limp than an excruciating hobble, I stocked up on health enhancing natural remedies for my new defense against attack regime and even managed to find the beginnings of a caterpillar outfit for the small child's venture into grubdom.

I am now on day seven of not smoking. The boys and I are back to playing music again in the house and a better kind of normality is returning.

I may have to self appoint sainthood.

I found a diary last night. Normally a private affair but so fascinating I read it to a friend.

"When did I write it" I asked her.

"Yesterday...... last week. perhaps" she replied.

In fact, I wrote it when I was 17 and it was really quite chilling to discover the things that I said then - were the things I could say now. Back then I had an old head on young shoulders. It seems that I now have a young head on old shoulders.

So reading an old diary and my groundbreaking insight and clear lack of balls - got me thinking of my favourite books in life. Out of my favourites, two stood out. As a child, I could ask for no more than Enid Blytons 'The Land of Far Beyond' a tale of some pretty unpleasant children who have to carry their burdens with them on a long journey - to shed themselves of their baggage. Greed, Envy - you name it - their baggage was firmly attached and was going nowhere until they sorted it out. This last month, in particular, has felt a little like that and finally, my load seems to be getting a lot lighter.

Topping the charts as a teenager were two - Inside the Third Reich and Cathy Come Home. Now clearly one is all about power, control and abuse of both and the other is about a rather gorgeous young woman who ends up with too many children and no money. Ironic

I am now wondering if my life is all very Celestine Prophecy. There are no coincidences - it is all mapped out with signs along the way. Miss the signs and you will get back on track, just 20 years later on. Looking at my book list, the signs were clearly telling me something.

So today was another very good day and all courtesy of my Mother. This is indeed a rare event as most things she says's bear no relevance to me; no matter how well meaning or blunt. Yet this one struck a chord and in an instant - made my day sunny.

"I have been thinking" she said

"Both your Grandmother and I ended up divorced. Both of us remarried and both of us to men 10 years younger"

In a mere moment, the sun was brighter, I felt lighter and I felt that warm feeling of a smile across my face. I finally realised the reality of my situation:

'It' had hooked up with someone who has more than a passing resemblance to his mother, (which is psychologically quite disturbing) is probably as uptight and undoubtedly looks good in Polyester.

I, on the other hand am (age considering) a relative goddess and clearly destined for intimate dalliances with men 10 years younger than I am.

What is there to be depressed about? I am on the up and life is looking good.

On another note. My army are tired. One of my little support workers is in the RUH awaiting an Angiogram. Very unexpected and very frightening. I sent her a text this morning telling her she was very selfish. This is the first time my life has collapsed around me and she goes and deals the top trump. Damn her. I have texted her again and told her that whilst I am of no physical use to her at all - I am her 24/7 to offer abusive and grounding texts.

"Thanks, hard arse" she replied "Shall I find you a bloke too" Now that, is a good friend.

There is another worthy of mention. This one is a bit like a wind up toy, just goes on and on and on - until the battery runs out and there is a brief need to recharge. Doesn't seem to realise that it is people like me, draining that power that makes it run out before they were expecting it to. Truly selfless people don't admit it though, but you can sometimes get a glimmer of it, just a hint, in the tone of their voice. They reassure you, but you know in your heart of hearts they are fibbing just a little and in a bid to help you, they put themselves on hold. This teaches you a lot. This teaches you that you will pull yourself together because other people have that belief.

Life can be quite hard enough, with enough personal challenges in it without being someone else's rock all of the time. A true friendship is one when just occasionally, you can tell the other to bugger off. True friends know that you detected that tiny differences in tone, that lasted no more than a second.

Tell me to bugger off anytime you like because I need you and your family to help build sandcastles this summer.

Gees, I am getting cryptic.

I forgot the rule of when you feel like life is too much, check your temperature. I figured I might of made an oversight, when I found myself swimming in sweat, unable to move and certain that someone had whacked me in the spine with a metal netball post. I had a chest infection on top of all the other little signs of general wear out.

I texted 'It' at 2.30am when I knew that there was no chance of being able to get the little ones sorted in the morning. 'It' rang at 6.30am to say he couldn't help because he was going to work. Why am I always surprised about the things that I know are going to happen. Why do I waste so much energy expecting the same view on duty as I have. I think it is slowly trickling in, I think I have been deluding myself for many

So people had to wander in and out doing things. I really have no idea who did what but lots of whats got done and by the time I got back from the Doctors, small children were accounted for, fed, bathed and in bed. I swear that if it was not for a host of little worker ants, and me as the sweaty queen, too tired to move - that the children would all be in care.

So feeling ill, unable to breathe and sweating is not a good combination for positive thought and so, I had very little. I tried to go to work to save my bonus but lasted 2.5hrs before being sent home. This little lack of air scenario has now cost an extra £250 in lost bonus. I did not return home smiling.

So today is Mothers day and it was a good one. Not for any of the obvious reasons but for clarity. I realised this morning, that mind games only work if you don't know they are a game. This is a good thing to know because when you accept the inevitable, it is incapable of causing whatever it was trying to cause.

And so - I knew with absolute certainty that there was no way that 'It' would suggest to the little ones that they phone Mummy on Mothers day and it was as certain as the sun going down. Guess what........ he didn't. Did it cause upset? ....No. Did I feel hurt?......No. Why? because it was such an obvious thing to do, the children are to young to have realised and because of all these factors - it simply made me smile.

It worked yesterday to. I had a letter from some company instructed by the Electricity co that due to non payment of bill, they may break in and cut the supply, they may put in a pre payment meter and may charge obscene amounts of money. I could get stressed out but really, why bother? I have already got used to half the lights not working, no cold water in the bath and a hot tap that takes an hour to run. I figure that 'It' will pay eventually and if he doesn't - we will simply break in to his little love nest. Maybe I could do that anyway, just to be able to run a normal bath. I am not really sure what he hopes to achieve but it really is now rather boring.

This is indeed a good place to be. Knowledge really is power and the real art of being a mother is that you spot child like behaviour a mile off. The beauty of being female is that if you wanted to - you could wipe the floor in mind games. I choose not to. It simply is not worth the effort. Life is too short. I want to happy again and one day soon - all of this, and most of 'It' will be nothing more than a murky memory.

I had some sound advice from a wise chap this weekend. I needed it. Life is getting better, granted - I still cannot breath well but I have not smoked in days, today was the first positive day in weeks and life, will slowly create its own path. I feel like Dorothy.

Perhaps a new pair of platforms may be justified here.

There were points in the last few months where I thought I was losing my mind. Sometimes, I felt like I was living on a film set in which everyone around me was mad and they were trying their hardest to convince me that in fact, it was me that was losing my mind. They came close on more than one occasion.

I used to say that there the difference between gut instinct and fear is that fear was something you could name and gut instinct was something that you simply could not put your finger on - you just know something is not right.

That feeling never really leaves until you realise that you were right to believe it. It is at this point that you see that you are not mad, naive, stupid and misguided perhaps, - but definitely not mad. Life is like a jigsaw puzzle; pretty tricky. You never really know where the pieces fit but when you get near to completing, it becomes pretty obvious. The Internet is the modern day jigsaw puzzle, allowing you to fill in the missing bits and gain a clearer picture. This may be a pretty ugly one - but it is one in which you realise that perhaps you were not mad after all.

There are those around me that figured out the puzzle some time ago but in my naivety and faith - I believed what I was told. What a silly, silly woman I was. The more the lies are told the clearer the picture becomes.

There are many things I should not say, many things I should not do, but my life is an open book. I have no lies to tell, I have nothing that I must keep to myself (only more personal aspects that few will know) and because of this I have no need for dishonesty in an attempt to cover my own trail. It is when that trail goes further back that the picture starts to be complete.

And this is the point you wonder if someone is capable of weaving such a web of deceit, how long were they capable of it? Years ago, before I was married - 'It" lied to me. He was seeing someone else. It was a bare faced lie and he got caught. No shame, just embarrassment. Thankfully, though his lies continued he had friends with a higher moral ground - so I never went mad, I never thought I lost my mind because I already knew the truth.

My mother once told me that if a man hits you once, he will do it again. I used to joke to 'It' that if he had the capacity for lies, he always would do. Apparently, I was talking rubbish and because I have faith in people, because I am not the jealous type and because I was very much in love with him - I believed him.

So I was right - someone who has this capacity, probably always will. When the picture becomes clearer and the lies more obvious, it leaves you wondering how many lies went on between. The sobering truth is that I will never know. The only person that can answer that, is the one so capable of lying. Which in my mind leaves me with another sobering truth, that the man I thought I knew is not the one that he is and my entire marriage - all 22 years - was based on my assumptions and was therefore - a farce.

In the midst of yet another 'Don't let this stuff up your childhood talk' I told one of the children that they must never confuse Daddy's inability to express himself with any lack of love for them, since he loved them very much.

"What's the difference" they said

"Well, he does love you very much but he struggles with showing it" I replied

"So how do you know he does"

"I just do" I said

It was an inadequate answer. How do you answer that? I have hung so many excuses on depression, they have grown up being told that when Daddy was grumpy it was just the depression, when Daddy was at work at weekends, it was stress: when Daddy didn't come on holiday with us - work and more stress. It really doesn't matter what you call it because in the end Daddy is just Daddy.

The only truth is that life so far has been one huge lie.

Dear Mr Editor,

Please can I have a restaurants of Bath Column? I am getting seriously bored of writing about me and I am deeply concerned that should I get to wear heels again - I will not be able to afford to go anywhere in them. Due to my circumstances, past and present - I have only eaten in about 3 restaurants in Bath and so can offer no preconceptions. Thank you

I look shocking. The culmination of taking medication that gives me allergic reactions, stress, lack of sleep and various other things - is taking its toll. I am about to approach the powers that be with a new television series "How to look 10 years older". If they had piloted this, using my own current formula - they would have saved thousands in plastic surgery. Car crash your life, wait 6 months and bingo 'Hot Mama'. I only have 4 months to go and I am praying that this is the worst point.

Life is better with arched eyebrows. It sound very superficial I know but really, having arched brows and heels that cause palpitations (Mine, not interested in anyone else's) does wonders for how high you hold your head. Sadly, I am unable to walk to the eyebrow haven and must remain down trodden.

It is often said that youth is wasted on the youth and how true this is. I have had psoriasis all of my life and at points was so crippled by self consciousness, that I simply would not go out. I remember being 20 and walking down Kensington High Street when somebody whistled. I was so embarrassed - I remember thinking that despite being in my prime and a tiny size 6 and a vaguely disproportionate top half, they wouldn't be whistling if they could see my skin close up. It took me years to realise that beauty is only skin deep and not one man had ever judged me on my complexion.

When I look back, it is not my skin that makes me recoil - it is the vision of wearing tight lycra, slit to the thigh and tied with ribbon. The guy that was whistling was probably a friend of Max Wall and mistook me for a relative that had gone astray and chosen a life on the streets rather than comedy. Perhaps this is why I never felt entirely comfortable with being female, I never did high heels, didn't do feminine make up and if I did the girlie thing - I went over the top and looked like a hooker. I didn't particularly like women, most of my friends were men because there were no sides, no bitchiness - what you saw was what you got.

Turning thirty changed all of that. I suddenly realised that time was ticking away and if I didn't buy a dress - I would get to the age where I was to old to contemplate anything that wasn't made of Polyester. So I bought dresses, and then high heels and then handbags. To be frank - I have amassed a large collection, but as an older woman, I now understand that really, there is no such thing as too many. Confidence is not automatic but the ability to change your state of mind, simply by throwing on a different outfit has to be the cheapest boost you can have. I also amassed a rather fabulous collection of female friends and discovered that women are quite unique. I still need my male friends to ground me but women have fun and if you pick the right ones - their capacity in giving is staggering.

So now I am bored of wearing slip on shoes and trousers wide enough to accommodate ice packs. I want heels, I want lip gloss and I want to be able to go stare at beautiful people. Just once a month, I want to be entirely superficial and I have not the slightest care for what anyone thinks. In a bid to add a little light in the tunnel, my dear brother has given me pocket money with the instruction that I have to spend it on myself and not the children; it has to be a treat and I should start with getting my hair done. Words cannot express the excitement of getting my haircut twice in one year.

Last year, for my 40th 'It' paid for me to get my hair cut. I am sure it was meant with good intent but I was deeply offended. Not at the salon I crave for my annual pilgrimage, but at some seedy number that no one had ever heard of. Risking my unkempt locks at the hands of a a 16year old was not something I was prepared to do but it was more than that - it was that at 40, I was getting a haircut as a birthday present and like birthdays, it was a once a year event. I felt so depressed.

In fact, my whole 40th probably echoed exactly where I was in life. Ten years previously, I threw a big party. There were a hundred people there, I organised it myself and foolishly had decided to have a Christening on the same day so really, all I did was cook. When I looked around - it was not joy that filled my heart but sadness. I knew that if 90 of those people were not there, my life would be no worse of. I had mistakenly thought that having lots of people around me was a way to feel more comfortable about myself and to feel more loved. The following week, I went through my Filofax and deleted people in droves. It was very cathartic and I have never regretted it.

So for those following ten years, I told everyone that I would never again have a party filled with people that were not very close and special friends. I told everyone, even the children - that on my 40th, I would be on a beach with a handful of very close pals being just me, not someones wife, not someones mother, not someones neighbour - simply me. The very last thing I was ever going to do was a party.

I got a party. Devastated would be an inadequate description. Granted, I could have organised my own shindig - my tropical plans were widely known. Even the teenager had trawled through tropical islands but I lacked the necessary component - money.

I like the feeling of trying to do something someone else would love. When 'It' had his 40th a couple of years before, he wanted a party - something he normally hates. He had a brilliant party. With Austin Powers as the theme, we went completely overboard. A marquee with psychedelic fabric, a dance floor, light up garden seats, retro food, lava lamps, full size cardboard cut out, pink cocktails with teenagers hired to shake. It was a fantastic party.

He is a tricky character to buy for and every gift has to have months of thought. Not interested in clothes or appearance, simply bikes and cars and if he wanted one, he could get one. The one thing he had ever wanted and not brought was a Tag Heure watch. The one thing I was short of was money. And so for months I sold things on Ebay and with the help of a friend who wore it through customs - he got his Tag. It was obscenely expensive but giving it to him gave me as much pleasure as it did him and even now I would never change that.

So I must have looked like a really ungrateful bag on my birthday. I sat in Bath, on the steps at the back of Jollys and simply cried with hurt and upset. I was celebrating my 40th in the one way I had always said would be my worst nightmare. Not only a party, full of people that were not necessarily close friends but some of my closest had not been given enough notice. My present was some blown up photographs of the children which although very beautiful - were not about me, not about me turning 40 and my life but in my mind, a mark of all that I amounted to - a mother who could only get her hair cut every 12 months.

I have no doubt 'It' probably hated me a lot on that day. I did ask him fairly recently why he had done the one thing he knew I would hate. "I had to do something" he replied.

But giving isn't about ticking boxes so you can say you did something, it is not about making it look like you made an effort so the outside world can pat you on the back, it is about doing something for someone else that gives you a warm glow at the same time. Being nice makes you feel nice. Simple.

Sometimes we get it wrong, it doesn't matter. Sometimes we do thinks because we think that if we don't we may be a bad person - I am not sure that this really matters much either - what matters is that in every gesture you do - you are telling someone something. Sometimes it is better to say and do nothing.

I read a lot into my birthday but tried not to think about it to deeply, I recognise my own ability to over-analyze everything - but now, with a better vantage point - I realise that I ignored a lot of messages - The birthday celebration that was everything I had never wanted, the wedding picture upside down and on top of a 10ft high cupboard that apparently 'fell' off. The expensive wrapped and unopened Christmas gifts that I gave last year and the birthday present from the year before, each and every weekend where he claimed that he was working when really, he was playing. We can all ignore signs, we can all give people the benefit of the doubt but there will always reach a point when you realise that you knew it all along.

This is no bad thing. We all play games - we all give subtle message in a bid to avoid honesty, but when those subtle messages become more about mind games they become ugly. It is easy to make yourself look good, to look caring, to look like a decent person - it is much harder to fool yourself.

I am not sure where this is going, I fear the combination of Tramadol and three sips of wine was an unwise choice. Where this is supposed to be going is this: I am going to have a party this year. If you are invited it is because you are important to me and I want you there. If you are not invited it is either because whilst I may like you, you are not one of those that truly makes a difference to my life or simply because I forgot to invite you. This is my party. I will be wearing heels, false eyelashes and may or may not look like an old tart. This is a party in recognition that if you are kind and lovely and make me laugh - you are my friend. This party is in recognition that I no longer need to look to anyone else to recognise my needs; they are my needs and I hold no one else accountable.

Looks are superficial. No matter how you present to the world; gorgeous, spotty, kind, loyal, decent - looks are only a veneer. The real you will be revealed to everyone else even before you accept it yourself. I have many, many faults but you know - most of them are on the outside and 40 is not to late to have realise it.

So role on 41, role on the summer and role on the rest of my life

I have more to write. I am avoiding the sleeping tablet for another 30 minutes because to despite being necessary, I have a love hate relationship with sleep. It is utterly boring but once there, I don't want to get up.

I met with my Nemesis today - the Headmaster. The man I love to hate and like every Nemesis - has some similarities with myself. We both think we are right, we both think each other wrong. He cannot bear me and likewise, me him. I have a deep seated sense of righteousness, so does he - but what really bugs him about me is when he makes hot air filled promises of what his school does and I don't agree -I hold him accountable. This is a long winded and inevitable battle since a lot of his words contain a lot of air.

I met with him because one child is in a difficult place. He has needs that have never been met (a familiar theme) and having got to a point where I unable to forge ahead, I had to go to him and ask for help. It was a little more forceful than that. I rang, he ignored it. I rang again, he ignored me again and so it went on. I drove to school and decided not to leave until he did notice me and to be fair - he sensed I was going no where fast and saw me. He saw how utterly unattractive I was looking and in a bid to boost my self esteem he said

"You are clearly ill"

I did not go in battle. I went in desperation, asking for help. There was no blame because it had got past that point. I simply needed help to get out of a situation that I could not get out of alone and do you know what? He was nice.

Another lesson learned. Try things from a different angle, admit you need help and you might get a different reaction. I am not sure if it should last but me admitting that I needed help is a unique event and it didn't feel as bad as I had feared. I didn't feel like I had failed - I felt that I had tried everything and had nothing to lose. I lost nothing and gained some help. I am not entirely happy with this. I feel like I have found religion and that is something I have argued against for years.

Another note. I have some cyber friends that over the years have made me laugh, cry, got the best of my wit and shared experiences with. Very few I have ever met and yet I know well. I am not really one for internet forums but this one is a unique place for parents of special children. I have not posted on the forum for some time - since discovering that it is a fabulous place for some family members to delve into your life without the respect of calling to ask how you are first. The downside is that I have missed out - the plus is that so have the stalkers.
In another Oscar awards platitude to all the fabulous people I have met - thank you.

To all those that read my words - if there is anything you want to ask me, try speaking. Obviously this does not apply to this blog. If you don't know me and you call - I will take out an injunction. If you do know me and reading simply because you are insatiably curious and have not spoken with me - bear in mind that though not the brightest (I met him recently) I am not stupid. I hope the burning pain of shame is piercing through you.

Gosh, that felt good.

I was given an ornament at Christmas. Most people have trinkets and ornaments but until then, I had none. I hate clutter, I loathe meaningless decoration with a passion but have been known to get quite excited about a brushed steel light switch. To me, everything in life should have a purpose and everything should be thought out and be beautiful in its simplicity.

Yet I liked this ornament. I would never have purchased it but the person who gave it to me had clearly thought about it, purchased it solely for me and with thought and in that sense - it had gained a purpose. The definition of purpose is a deeply personal one.

A friend once told me that you should get rid of everything once it had served its purpose. If she read a book, she gave it away immediately. The words had been read, the story given its purpose and in her mind - had done its job. To hold on to the book was to hold on to the past. I always found this strangely harsh, but she has a point. There are some things that we want to hold on to because to let go, would be to acknowledge that they no longer exist.

Take the footprints of a stillborn. I have mine, I cannot throw them away. I need them to remind me that it was not some tragic event no longer mentioned, but a child that was here, even for the briefest of moments. One day, they will be framed; not in a macabre 'Lets scare the neighbours' way but in pride, in acknowledgement that those tiny, tiny feet provided me with so much insight. Not for one moment would I go back in time and change the moment, because it created a new me. Those tiny feet served a purpose and are very beautiful.

Sometimes it is right to get rid of the objects. Memories are in your head, what you hold in your hand is an object, a reference to the past perhaps but not a memory. I have no tickets, no train passes from exciting days out, no old school ties and badges - in my mind, if I cannot remember them without - they were probably not that great.

I do have a large box of Lovey Dovey letters between It and I. We met when I was 12, and the letters from those days largely consists of moaning about school and my Dad. His consisted largely of Maths homework and the weather. Moving school, moving country and general ageing changed them - to the point in later life they became deep emotional outpourings of undying love - mostly on my part. Most of Its were about how much he drank, how much he didn't go to college, occasionally how nice some of my assets were and even more occasionally - that he loved me. No criticism here, the ability for emotional openness was always restricted. I knew that, youth and naivety thought I could change it and age taught me otherwise.

Not his fault - simply my choice.

So I burnt one today. Not in a ritualistic, macabre, lost my head way but in a symbolic - the past is a series of events that I no longer need to hold one to way. To hold on to the tangible assets of the past - in this circumstance - would be unhealthy. These are not letters I would pass on to my children and holding onto them would be holding onto something that no longer exists. It is funny that I only came across these letters a few months ago and had sat on the floor going through them. One of the boys was with me and we laughed as I read them one I had written when I was a mere child. I had even saved a love heart sweet that had to be 25 years old.

So these letters are beautiful, so full of hope, love angst, insecurity, passion and rage. A vehicle of communication between two people that were revealing traits in their personality that echo their future (if that makes sense) but they no longer have a purpose.

I fully intend burning them all. Not in a rage, not in a bundle, but individually and as and when I am ready to do each. I shall read every one first and then simply let it go. I figure that once I have incinerated all - I will be a very different and better person. If I remember the words they become memory and if I don't, they were not worth remembering. God, I love symbolism.

I have been to the GP today. Apparently being crippled is not totally unusual and a combination of all factors contributing. I have a new drug regime. I feel like I have been taken of Heroin and put on Methadone. As he says, sleep is crucial and this is simply a means to an end. Life is pretty much the same - don't you think?

I am concentrating on my exercise. Mainly out of boredom - you run out of things to do whilst lying with your leg elevated. I have been throwing in a few pelvic floor routines in as well, I am not in the slightest interested in having anyone in my life right now. I need to sort my own head out before I can start my future; but when the time arrives - I will have a positive mind and a pelvic floor like a taught trampoline. It pays to plan ahead

The children's lives are an emotional roller coaster. I have bribed them out of my bed and onto mattresses on the floor. I figure I can move them out a foot at a time. By 2011, I may have got my room back. One in particular is having a really rough time. Reluctant to go to 'Its' tonight, not for lack of love - more fear of leaving my side. He did not feel happy. Apparently Daddy told him that Mummy and Daddy are not ever getting back together. The evil voice in my head piped up "Did he mention he was shagging someone else?" The good voice said "I imagine that makes you feel sad but Mummy and Daddy both love you very, very much"

I asked him this evening if there was anything I can do to help

"Come with me to Daddy's house" he said.

A steely grin would be the most accurate description. Not only do I have to go to Daddy's house, but I have to have a cup of tea and stay a while. That is the thing about children - they cannot appreciate the sacrifices you make until they have their own children and even then: there is no guarantee.

The evil voice in my head was screaming 'You must be bloody joking, I would rather chew toenails'. The evil voice wanted to point out that I had in fact only found out Daddy's address 2 days earlier and only because I had given up waiting to be told and had decided that it seemed rather weird having your children stay somewhere, even if with Daddy, that other than the general location - you have no idea where it was. The evil voice wanted to shout "Frankly, if it wasn't for you lot - I would be happy never to cross paths again"

"If that would make you feel happy" say I, "Of course I can come around to Daddy's"

Bugger. Still - life is full of stuff that we don't want to do and I shall have to grit my teeth and get through it. By the time I have got rid of all the clutter, I will be in a place that requires no jaw clenching and much trampolining.

This, I am looking forward to.

ALWAYS, Always take your temperature before you assume you are having a bad day.

Damn, I cannot go to bed. It is full of children. I would boot them out but I will fall over. My mistake - if you don't want children in your bed, do not buy a tempur mattress. I am now going to have to spend the next 30 mins poking them, hard.

I am just waiting for the sleeping tablet to mellow me. Last night, in a drive to pull myself together - I had half a glass of wine instead of three. 8 cigarettes instead of 30 and one sleeping tablet instead of two. It worked until 1am. What kind of sleeping tablet is that? Sleeping tablet with an hourly success rate. I assumed it would mean you slept less soundly, not for a shorter period. By 1.30 I was walking around the house trying to find drugs. Any - I didn't care. I may have taken a dog worming tablet. Still my face looked less like a pizza in the morning so what ever it was, it was good.

There are many things that we take for granted in this life, never assuming for a moment that you may have to manage without them. Like my leg. Really, I never gave it a moments thought about how much I needed it because it has always been there.

Granted, it still is - but at this present time it is not serving me a great function, merely hindering my ability to get on with my life. Lack of sleep, an inability to succumb to doing what is actually good for me - has resulted in the rather unfortunate position of being almost crippled. Walking, as a result, has become a challenge. Imagine having hot fat poured on your leg whilst being bitten by disease infested rats and you may come close to experiencing life with my leg.

As a result, I am having to resign myself to lying down for as long as possible because standing up for more than about 40 minutes, tests just how steely my nerves are. The Bitch is less than sympathetic and empties the bin 4 times a day in dirty process. In fear of being asked to walk her, almost the entire village has taken to wearing hoodies and skulking past with unfamiliar gait to avoid recognition.

On top of the useless leg, one child is showing fairly classical signs of separation anxiety. He apparently cannot sleep unless our eyelashes actually touch. He to - now has a bad leg and a mere glance at it, causes pain. When appearing to walk without pain, he develops a headache, tummy ache or just general 'not okay anywhere' syndrome. We are unable to get past 3 minutes without him declaring his love and pouting for added effect. I have never had clingy children, never seen it as lack of need - more of a sign of confidence - so it is a tricky one and dealt with in the best way there is - two whole days of school loafing with Mummy.

Frankly, at 5 - or even 15, I have always thought that every child needs the odd day off, the odd spontaneous 'There are more important things' day. So we slept, we ate rubbish, we watched rubbish and we spoke gibberish. I expect a long haul but am hoping my admiration of the brave sad boys that make it into class even when sad - will be enough to get him there tomorrow.

They are all having different moments, in different ways and this in essence, is the true test of parenting so many. 4 children, 3 different ages, 4 different personalities, 4 different understandings, feelings and observations. It can make trying to have a conversation with all in the room very taxing and even more so when they have the desire to speak over each other. It is no wonder that I sometimes feel as if I may actually be going mad. At best, you get them on there own but sine these conversations can go on for some time - it is like holding an open session in the local town hall and like the town hall, nobody is entirely satisfied with the answer.

Another irony in life is that the things that drive you insane are the things that give you the simplest pleasure. Trying to walk the Bitch yesterday, Child 4 asked if we could go to Disney World next year. "We don't have the money sweetheart," say I

"Can we go next year" He asks hopefully.

"I think it unlikely we will be able to go darling, it costs an awful lot of money" say I

"Could we save up some money and have a day out" He say's

"Of course we can," pausing "You know, we may not have much money, but we have something far, far more important" say I. "Do you know what that is"

Waiting for that once in a life time moment, that poetic perfect Walton moment, I look down anticipating.......

"Yes" he say's "My shrinky dinks"

It was the lightest moment of the day. I worry about so much and he worries about so little. It would not have occurred to him to say love because this is the one thing he need never question and because of that, he is free to concentrate on all the little things that really do not matter. And this - is just the way he should see his world.

Talking of dark - my life is full of it. Not only is it dark but everything is broken. None of the outside lights work, the toaster is a fire hazard and aside from coming close to flames on more than one ocassion - has blown all the plaster on the kitchen wall. The hall light, the larder - to name a few are non functioning and to top it all - we have to wee in the dark.

This is not that hard, it is after all fairly clear where the toilet seat is - but with a house of four boys, it can be a deeply disturbing event. I may well know where the toilet is but they just use it as a rough guide. Toilet in here, so must be the room we wee in - anywhere. I could turn the light on but to do so could be our demise because within a few minutes there is a choking electrical smell and the odd wisp of smoke from the fan.

This coupled with nearly 4 weeks of not being able to run a bath in less than 60 minutes, a garden full of both dog pooh and holes (Bad leg/insane dog) and the house is looking simply peachy. I am trying to ignore the falling plaster, the filthy paint, the dangerous electrics and everything else and concentrate on the positive.

The house has not burnt down yet and we still have shrinky dinks.

There are many things in life that are bad for you. Looking after too many children with a bad knee is not particularly good. Drinking three glasses of wine and taking two sleeping tablets may allow you sleep - but like many things, take some time to leave your system. When the subsequent damage of staying upright for 12 hours shows its face in your inability to walk the next day - it is a very bad idea to then take a strong pain killer. Necessary, but very bad.

I never understood drugs. Never understood why anyone would put something in their mouth, with the safety assurance of a drug dealer. If this is how you feel when you are drugged to the eyeballs, I will never understand why you would chose to feel like this on a daily basis.

It would be fair to say, I am making a choice. I recognise that an inability to do what is right - is contributing to a situation in which I am rattling. So simple to lie on the sofa with my foot in the air, but yet such an impossible task. HOW, do you get to lie on the sofa when you have 4 children to chase, clothes to wash, sandwiched to make, baths to run, bedtimes to complete.

I am having a moment of sheer and utter exhaustion, a moment of feeling fed up, overwhelmed and full of nasty thoughts. Still: the things I want to say, the things I feel like doing are staying contained - so I guess, I must be doing okay.

I am breathing but there feels like there is a fish bone stuck in my throat. Yes a moment of sheer self pity. It won't last.

I have a guru in my head. I found him on the internet and as I read his words of wisdom, I cried. Not from bitterness, recrimination or anger - simply in acceptance that life is a future of uncertainty and unchartered waters. I have so many choices; I can be the person in the sinking boat, desperately trying to bail out water to keep it a float or I can be the one that makes the leap and swims to the shore. The beach is looking like the better place to be.
I walked the dog this morning. Walked may be stretching the imagination. Take a moment and put your left foot forward, followed by your right - only putting your toe on the ground - and without bending your knee. This is not an easy way of covering the ground and not particularly elegant.
I cried. It was a good thing. I did not sob in a hysterical fashion - more of a letting go style. I think I cried for all the times I have not cried in the past. When, years ago, I had a held a tiny lifeless baby in the palm of my hands - I felt unable to cry because I was too scared that I would never stop. I am crying this week for all of those moments and in acceptance that sadness is inevitable and at some point I will stop and will be a better person for it. On that day, I remember thinking that nothing could be ever be so painful - and I was right.

Life has to be about perspective, about filing everything in an order and not losing sense of what truly matters. I have many, many things to be grateful for and as I hobbled up the track with the Bitch, I realised that the birds still sing, the seasons still change and I am lucky to be part of it all. I have beautiful, precious children and with a bit of slap on, I can pass as attractive. I do not hate myself, I live with my morals and even if I get it wrong, I care about those around me.

I also realised that it is people that make your life complete. They do not create it but they make the difference between standing precariously on the tightrope or clinging on for dear life. The enormity of kindness and support has frankly, blown my mind. There are people that have been here every step of the way. Making me tea when I sobbed, making sure my children had a friendly hug and were fed and never, ever dictating the path my mind should follow. They were there for me in the months that led to all of this and still not sickened by my car crash - they remain so.

That is a huge thing to be grateful for. What I love about them most - is that at not one point have they dictated. I know what they think is right for me, as do I - but when I offered 'It' his choices last week, they did not tell me I was insane - they sent texts saying that I must do what is right for me and they would be there every step of the way. And this, is what friends are.

They are not those that want to change the course of someones life and feel good at playing a part - they are the people that accept you as you are and stop their own life to support you - even if they think you are insane. I feel blessed. I have always been scared of being me, always been terrified of not being the coper, the one that can deal with anything and always been to weak to be human. The fact that I am human, I have feelings and I think and sometimes, behave irrationally has not scared them away as I feared it would, it has created bonds that I never realised I had. This is the kind of debt you cannot repay and what makes it unique is that they do not want it repaid. If you should stumble across this blog and add 2 and 2 together - you will know who you are and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

So now I move on - into the land of superficial, which is what I do best. I have bigger problems that are more deserving of my attention - such as how am I going to create a caterpillar outfit? I have a mere couple of weeks. I used to be a real Blue Peter mother but having so many children put paid to this (and the advent of Ebay). There are no caterpillar outfits for 5 year olds. The teenager suggested typing Meal grubs into the search engine. Unsurprisingly it failed to offer an easy answer. He wasn't trying to help, he simply has an irrational revulsion for them.

The too cute little ones went off on a school trip today in a big yellow bus. They were very excited and insistent that I stay to wave them off. There should be a rule that two children in the same class are forced to sit on the same side of the bus. Hopping from one side to the other was no easy task. At one point, I climbed a fence. Not the most sensible thing after a knee operation but I was had promised and they would never have forgiven me if I had not waved goodbye. I was soon told off by a mother with more common sense than I. Fortunately, I found both and managed to do as promised. Waving to the other one was a little risky as it involved standing in the middle of a road. Granted, seeing your mother hit by a car would not be the best start to the day but at least he would have remembered me smiling.

Life is full of irony. After the wise words of the caterpillar v butterfly - it was more than ironic that the school trip is in fact, to a butterfly park. Life is full of little signs that sometimes, we pick up on.

So onwards and upwards. If anyone should have a caterpillar outfit, please can I borrow it? Clearly my identity is an issue but I will willingly hop into the Chronicle with dark glasses to pick it up. The hopping could give me away, but I can take the risk.

And lastly: To the guru who is helping me breath. Every breath I take, gives me the opportunity for the next. Your words are in my head and I am in control of my own destiny - even if that is not clear right now.

Thank you

My new Mantra is 'God give me strength'. I recognise that I am writing a whole heap of jumble but it is becoming very cathartic and I am drinking less because of it. Bare with me for a few days - I will return to superficial matters in due course.

'It' had the boys for the night. He decided to get there hair cut. Both have sported a longer, slightly bohemiom style for some time, so such a decision would be met with some fury even in regular 2+2 family. It is not a decision one would sensibly make without consulting other parent. To do so when you have left the family home, should be suicide - but because I have to remain calm - he gets away with it.

Given that he would never have had there locks cropped without consultation prior to doing a bunk, one can safely assume that this is no more than a ridiculous mind game. Hair grows back. Inform 'It' that since he no longer assumes day to day responsibility, he needs to consult me when making such decisions. I only pray the middle child does not hanker after a tattoo.

Still trying to get some kind of arrangement for seeing children. The conversation is like this

'When are you seeing the children next"

"I don't know, I will call you"

"They need to know when they are going to see you, so that when they ask - I can tell them"

"I don't know - I will have to look in my diary and see what I have got on"

Call me an idealist - but I thought that it would be the other way around. I thought that you would want to see your children and arrange your life around that. I am deluding myself. When I look back over the years - I recall standing on the side of the race tracks with a baby strapped to me. I remember singing 'He'll be coming around the mountain when he comes' with a little boy, at a time when the only time we ever saw Daddy was when we were watching him race.

Nothing changes much in life. Having no desire to stand on the side of a track with 4 children in tow - we simply stopped seeing him and the children got used to only ever seeing him if they were watching him do something. The great thing about deciding to start a company involving bikes was that he finally got to call it work. Finally, you can avoid being at home all together. It is truly ironic that the one thing he claimed to be doing for the sake of his family - is the very thing that destroyed it.

With this in mind - I think I am unrealistic to have blamed all this on depression. Clearly it is a major factor. When I chart the recent decline (Though it started with the first depression 10 years ago), it has to go back to the arrival of the two little ones. Just Nine weeks into their arrival, he walked out, hired a van, took some furniture and left- forgetting to tell the children. He simply could not cope. I have to keep reminding myself that whilst I have no recollection of how I coped - I did and carried on breast feeding throughout to boot. I am a goddess!

Things were improved for a couple of years until we started down the same slippery slope, except we failed to notice. You get used to things in life - they become your normal. Normal was getting used to the shouting. Normal was your children calling at work to tell you that Daddy was being mean. Normal is your children pleading not to be left at home whilst you go to work. My reality dawned last April when he screamed abuse at his 4 year old for being scared of the dark.

We reached a turning point. I had nothing left to give and from here on in his behaviour got stranger and stranger. He refused to acknowledge any depression and as a result of not letting anyone in, he grew lonelier. The more I questioned his behavour and our safety the more he retreated and the more he blamed me. Life for the family of a man with depression is like living on eggshells and it can suck everything out of you. I have nothing for sympathy for someone with depression but the choice to acknowledge it is the real strength of character. Blame and denial do not solve depression they merely allow you to accept it as a way of life.

Never knowing what the next reaction will be, you all withdraw - because it is safer to do so. The children backed away and as a couple - we retreated to separate corners. Sadly, he has been so focused on his own loneliness that he never considered that his family felt the same. He started taking antidepressants but kept it secret -I am not convinced that these drugs do not play a role in this, numbing him to a level in which he feels nothing.

One of the saddest things in this, is that he had a deeply unhappy childhood with a mother that had mental health issues. To this day, he dislikes her intensely and has no trust in her. He pretends otherwise and what he can't see is that he is still seeking her love - yet when she gives it he cannot trust it. BINGO, he has clearly been mistaking me for his mother. Childhood may mould you but what you have a choice in - is what they make you.

I digress, the sadness is that what caused him so much pain as a child, is the very childhood his own children have been living with. His behaviour got stuck into a groove of trying to bury his head in the sand and not accept that his actions may have implications for others. No one could blame him for depression but the choice in acknowledging it was his own. When you don't let people in, they give up trying. When you shout at people, they back off - then you feel lonely because the people that you need to love are the ones that you pushed them away.

Funny thing is that on one hand he blames me for everything and yet the other - freely admits he cannot cope with having a family. I am not sure which one is easier to accept but either way, denial is easier than reality and creating a new life a very, very easy answer.

So to a degree I have deluded myself - it is not just depression that makes a man not share time with his family, it is choice. There should be no get out clause with children. There should be no yellow card that you can flash when it gets to much - enabling you to walk away. Yet there is for some. People rarely make instantaneous decisions, they have normally had the thoughts for some time. When 'It' told me that walking out on Boxing Day was a choice between a car full of tablets or leaving he really just excusing himself so he could dismiss his choices. If he had been serious, he would not be congratulating himself on his mild depression - he would be acknowledging the seriousness and depth of it, for the sake of himself and of the children

In the same sentence, I cannot blame 'It' for the choices in my life. I chose to convince myself that 'it' wanted to be a family man, I choose to blame it all on depression, to excuse actions and blame his childhood. I chose never to confront him on coming home with cars on a whim, chose to seek the company of friends rather than face the reality that 'It' didn't want to be here. I recognise having to take on the reponsibality of the children may have contributed to 'It' deciding that he no longer had to. I am not blameless, we live life by patterns often failing to see the consequences until they are too late.

Truth is better than blame. It is harder to face but easier to accept. We can only be responsible for accepting our own truths.

I remember years ago, when we first moved into our house and had all of the beams sandblasted in one day. I had made a corner partition with bale wrap so that we could sleep; on it were two small children, surrounded by about 10 inches of sand. When 'It' arrived home, I was busily shoveling sand into a wheelbarrow. Looking around at what appeared to be the Sahara, he said

"I am suppossed to be going karting tonight, what should I do"

His question presented a dilemma. It was clear to me that it was obvious what he should do, but in this marriage I had accepted that 'It' would do what he wanted anyway and to tell him otherwise would not change the action, simply make me feel hard done by. My marital survival moto was 'It is not my place to tell others how to behave'. So instead, I looked at him and said

"You must do whatever you think is right for you"

"Okay" he said "I will see you later

Perhaps I should have done what any normal woman would do and hit him around the back of the head with a shovel. Perhaps I should have made him stay and perhaps if I had made his role in life a little clearer, he wouldn't have found it so easy to carry on doing what pleased him. Perhaps though, the truth is that it is not my place to tell someone how I think they should behave - perhaps my place is to accept that some people simply have their own moral code and to them, it is acceptable.

I do ponder if 'it' is slightly aspergic. I am not sure there is any truth to it and perhaps it is me clutching at straws in a desperate bid to find excuses for his behaviour instead of accepting that he is the way he is because he is him. A few hours after a pretty painful multiple birth experience - he dropped me of at the local maternity unit.

"How long do you want me to say tonight" he said

Me, shocked that he saw spending time with me and his new multiples presented a chore for him, replied "If its a problem, don't bother coming".

He didn't.

I sometimes wonder if I will ever have the time to regain my life. The sheer volume of my day to day routine sometimes excludes time to even gain sufficient sleep.

On the flip side, it is sadly ironic that I get more time to myself. In the 5 years since having the little ones - I have have had one night away. Since 'It left' I have had about five.

I met a fiercely intelligent man recently who gave me a quote about the death of the caterpillar, is the birth of the butterfly. That is not quite as poetical as he put it but in essence it is there.

Perhaps this period of my life is the cocoon.

I feel as it there is a tug of war within my own head. Two little characters yanking away on a great piece of rope - every hour it changes and one gains dominance. Perhaps it is an analogy of what is going on externally. The one side is angry and wanting to shout and scream, and the other wanting to take control by containing such destructive feeling.

At times it seems too unfair that I have to contain the rage, so that the children can carry on having Daddy call in and see them, knowing that Mummy can sit at the table and eat with Daddy. It seems so unfair that I have to stomach everything that is going on to try and hold on to the little that it is left of their normality - but the truth is that it is fair to them and that really - this is all that can matter.

The money upsets me. Not in its existence, in the fact that 'It' can honestly believe that as two individuals having taken the decision to create a family - that one party would view that the woman, having made herself very vulnerable by staying at home - would only be interested in the money. Surely any man would see that if a woman had wanted to be in a position of owning a home - they simply would not have had children and worked.

It blows my mind that 'It' could even consider saying, in front of his son' that the reason he had not paid anything off the mortgage was because it was all his mother was interested in and had chosen to keep the money himself. But he did. It blows my mind further that his son would tell 'It' that Mum only wanted to protect the future home. He should never have had to.

How we got in a situation where a child won't ask for things because he feels guilty asking me when I have little and disloyal asking his father - because he know he will give it to him is simply to tragic for words. How did I end up in a position where my whole future having been secure is now like standing on the edge of a cliff - no career, no income and no pension. What a stupid, stupid woman. When you have children, you create them on trust. Hindsight is a wonderful thing but not particularly helpful.

None of this really changes the current situation. I know 'It' well enough to know that he will never be straight, never be honest and will always see money as his. No matter the fact that I played a part in this, that it was I raising his children by myself that allowed him to create his world because in life - this is what you do as a family. I remember telling him that I did not have enough money and needed to get another job. I remember him telling me I could not because he needed to work. That is the see-saw of marriage - we each play a role. I feel like the spring broke on the see saw and I got dumped on the concrete.

Yet the tug of war still goes on. The hurt at his views is greater than the power of money. It never was important - the hurt is from trying to understand why the man you created children with needs to use money as power and as control. I know I have a choice, I know I could try and protect myself but I do not have the stomach for it. He will lie, will hide it and will do everything he can to make sure that he protects himself because this is now his new identity.
I do not have the stomach for it.

In my ideal world I would have hoped that any man that had been in a relationship for 22 years would think 'This woman has raised my children for 15 years and is still doing so - and because of that she has given up financial independance. In recognition for that I will acknowledge her part and make sure that she is safe and can provide my children with the life I wanted for them".

But the reality is that life is not ideal. Money has become more important than values and instead of representing a means to provide a lifestyle and choices - it represents power, control and manipulation. I want no part in it. Money is not more important than children, it is not more important than values and morals. It never can be. If I have no money I still breath, If my children cannot go on holiday, they still exist. If I make money my life battle it takes over me and defines what is most important in my life. The most important thing in my life is my ability to focus on what is important - and that is my children.

I am having to tell the children that depression can make people behave in strange ways. I am having to tell them that Daddy is a good person that really does not know what he is doing right now. I am having to tell them that Daddy loves them very much and that will never change. I am having to tell them that they are the most important thing in Daddys life

I am not sure I believe all of this - but I would rather that they put all of this down to depression than to their father. We all need to believe better things of people.

I am fortunate in that the two little ones are too young to be aware of any of this and their views of their father are unchanged. Rightly so and long may it last. When those two people are tugging away in my head - I need only picture their innocent faces to know I have no choice in this.

What I have a choice in is moving on - I can keep picking over the cherry stones but it makes me ill. I cannot make sense of so many things but I am finally realising that perhaps I never will. Moving forward is letting go of the past and since the past is an event that has already happened - I have spent to long going over things that cannot be altered.

So here I am - still crippled, thinner and still breathing. As long as that continues I shall be okay

I have always said that there has to be good in everything. I could not sleep last night. Three strong painkillers failed to knock me out and I just felt drunk. As I lay there, I felt like I was in the eye of a storm -except that I had no choice but to contain the utter, utter rage inside.
Believe me - I am getting to the point, by 5am, I had smoked through the night and as a result of eating 2 meals in 5 days - threw up.
I am now, almost at my pre children weight. this is where I see a glimmer of light. When I am thinner, my breasts look bigger and this - at some point in the future, will come in handy.

My leg is very painful. I am going to a fancy shin dig next week where the average age of male is 28, a good self esteem booster I feel. I am getting concerned about the likely hood of wearing sexy heels. A friend phoned me in the morning to tell me that I was a foxy woman, funny, intelligent, though a little short, 'Not a problem though' she said 'You can wear high heels'

So now the pressure is on. If my leg is not improved, I cannot wear heels. If I don't where heels - no one will notice the new trim, slim me in my sexy dress and if they don't notice me - they might mistake my head for a foot stall.

It is 9 years to the day that I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. He had a lethal form of brittle bone disease and was born dead. Giving birth to a stillborn child has to be one of the harshest of life's experiences and not something I would wish on anybody. To this day, some 9 years on - I am still unable to come up with the words that can come close to describing the enormity of that pain and so, to this day, he has no headstone.
One of the realities of life is that individual events mean different things to different people. I could never forget this date, not simply to the enormity of that loss but by the fact that it taught me so much about people and about myself.
Perhaps the fact that 'It' chooses not to acknowledge it or even remember, says something about us or perhaps just him - I really am not sure and frankly, I am tired of trying to work it out. I thought it sad and touching that the only person to remember was the teenager. I haven't mentioned that date in years but he told me that he remembered simply because it was important to me. It is moments like this that you realise just how special children are.

I only had a tragic bunch of flowers procured from the petrol station, all I could do with a pair of crutches. Poorly secured in an oasis the teenager took them to the churchyard in the dark. He shouldn't have had to, it isn't his role but in the circumstance - I love him all the more for it. One day when he is older, he will be a loving, somewhat difficult but deeply sensitive partner to somebody. As long as he retains the ability to discuss his feelings - he should be ensured a happy life. I hope to god that he has not had his vues of marriage tarnished for life - but I suspect that this is overly hopeful.
I spoke with the children again last night. It saddens me beyond belief that they will remember the last two months for the rest of their lives and I am not sure if they will ever get to a place that they will truly make sense of it. How can you ever make sense of Daddy walking out when Mummy was at work and then a mere handful of weeks after saying "I am in a relationship and it is the right thing for me' all whilst Daddy is still married to Mummy. I am sick of saying Daddy loves you very much when frankly, Daddy loves himself more than anyone else and Mummy could cope a lot better if she were able to use Daddy's photograph as a dartboard.

I decided this morning that for the sake of my sanity I needed to know that 'It' and I had really decided what it was we wanted and that perhaps, despite the events of the last couple of weeks - we should have counseling and address all of the issues - so that we know we did everything we should have done. It seems unbelievable that in all of the periods that things were bad - we never talked about it. As this seems the route cause of most of it, I really don't know why I am surprised.
I also decided that I pick at things - finding it hard to accept that there is no longer a solution to problems. At the very least, we created this family and we owe it to the children to know that we did everything in our power not to destroy everything they had.
It was not an easy place to be. 'It' came for tea, it was very cordial and surreal, as I ate for the first time in a few days - I began to wonder if it was me that needed my head testing.

It is hard to summarise but my feelings of making sure that we had done everything, were not shared. I asked where he was hoping his new relationship was going since it had a huge bearing on whether we sought counselling for our marriage. It rapidly became clear that he wanted to continue the relationship to see where it was going and was not currently in a position to decide which one he wanted to continue with. I pointed out that it would be senseless for me to consider this whilst he was committing adultery. He was pretty clear on his choice. It was also clear that like an orphaned lamb - he had simply transferred his loyalty to someone that was more likely to fulfill his needs.
And so now I need to accept the reality that this is ALL about his need. There are no morals, no ethics, no feelings in this, no one else matters - not even his children.

Whilst I will accept his utter lack of emotions - it really is like staring into a void - I don't think I can ever forgive his lack of willingness to put his own needs on hold for a few weeks, and put his children's needs first. At least then he could look at them as adults and say 'Well, your Mum and I tried everything we could' - Instead he will have to say 'I tried living on my own for two weeks but I didn't like it, so I thought I would start sending Kissey, Kissey texts to another woman and simply forgot that I was supposed to be a role model.

I thank Christ that he is not in a position to have anymore children

An unusually short post. I had a change of mindset. Deranged, Hysterical and drunk is not really me and so I decided to pull myself together. You can only get pulled down by someone else if you allow someone the pleasure and I am not going to - it is bad for me and dreadful for the children.

A word to the wise. Adultery is when you are sleeping with someone when you are in fact, married to some one else. If you are married you DO NOT sleep with someone else.

I will at least come out of this with my morals in tact. I may have lost a husband, my children may have lost any future possibility of a family as they know it and I have clearly lost my ability to judge a character - but I will at least be able to look myself in the mirror and live with what I see.

So there

I would like to wax lyrical about the funny side of life but I have a hangover. I am currently living on a diet of painkillers and large amount of alcohol and believe me it is not a pretty sight. I am also on a mission to smoke as many cigarettes as humanly possible and it is making me ill. Yesterday I ran out. Panic stricken that I may actually have a panic attack without them, I tried to go to the garage on my newly procured crutches. I knew half way there it was a mistake. By the time I got to the garage I was having a near death experience. The good thing about this village is that there is always someone on hand to rescue a crippled alcoholic and I am pleased to report that I made it home.
Child 2 is in a state. I knew that he knew but he would not admit it. Seeing your mother sobbing all the time and walking around with a straw in a bottle of wine is probably a good sign that things are amiss but clearly I am not thinking straight. In view of his reluctance to say the first words, I inform 'it' that we need to tell the older two, even though the teenager had pretty much worked it out before I.
It was not good. 'It' told them that he was probably not coming back. If I could have reached them, I would have whacked him with the crutches. After suggesting that now was the time for complete honesty - he told them that he was never coming back. So matter of fact. He told them that he was seeing someone else and that whilst he knew it was not okay - that was the way it was. Teenager said that it clearly thought it was okay since he was the one that made the decision to start seeing someone else. I love children, they see life with such clarity.
Middle child starts crying. 'It' hugs him. I wonder why I am the one reassuring him that Daddy still loves him and that will never change. I am wondering why Daddy isn't the one saying that he loves him.
We move to kitchen with older child to see if there is any further discussion. Teenager worried about money and if our house security is dependent on 'its' mood. He assures him we are safe but also says there may reach a time soon when he cannot afford to pay for it. I am not sure how that is offering security since it really translates to 'You may lose the house'. He has no idea that teenager has been worried about the way we handle finances for years and is clearly uncomfortable.
Teenager is dismissed and I tell 'it' that I will never recover from the speed he became involved with someone else. I told him that I had loved him for all of my adult life and even now, after 22 years - I could not walk into another relationship at this stage. He had no emotions. When told him that up until things got to bad, I had wanted to keep my family together. According to him, I didn't care who it was that was in the house as long as someone was there to pay the mortgage.
The penny dropped. The man is actually devoid of any feeling. I suddenly realised that I cannot remember the last time he showed emotions and that despite the long history and the huge amount of children - he genuinely did not care. He couldn't even look upset to his own children. Even a fake tear may have made their memory of this a little more palettable in years to come.

I cannot begin to imagine what must be going on in the childrens head. Their whole life has been transformed and Daddy being with someone else almost straight after leaving, must give them the message that Daddy never cared about his family and could not wait to leave. Even if this were not true, it must surely be the lasting impression they are left with.

I would hope that my children could have least be afforded the view that Daddy and Mummy loved each other very much for their entire short (childrens) existance but things simply had not worked out. At the moment the message is Daddy can move on so quickly from his old life that he managed to create a new one within 14 days.

There is a sense of irony. A little glimmer of humour. I always told It that he had chosen a woman too mad for him and that he would probably have been happier with a motherly type, that would hand out biscuits on the side of the race track and that would live in a modern house in a cul-de-sac. I can add psychic to my long list of abilities. I am not sure about the biscuits yet but given that they were introduced through the motorcross that he spent a lot of his available time doing - I think the new season should see a round of home baked fodder and hearty apple crumble.
I then got very drunk. I phoned a friend who advised that if I still love him - I need to tell him before this ends in court. The truth is that I have no idea how I feel and haven't for the last 6 months. I know without question that I cannot live with him as he is, and I also know that the older children cannot be put through that again. As long as he will delude himself to the fact that they may have been deeply unhappy for a number of years - nothing will change. I wish, that for a mad moment - he would call a depression helpline and ask what it is like for the family of a man with depression. He would never do that and there are clearly other issues thrown into this pot that complicate it further. He simply will not recognise that he is not the only person that has felt miserable, lonely and hard done by.

I never wanted all of this. I am glad he left - our lives were unbearable but I thought that perhaps, if we were apart that he might have a bolt from the blue and realise that his life was not as awful as he was convinced it was. Perhaps he would see that if you went out with your family that children could actually give you pleasure. Perhaps, if he realised that if you went out with your wife that you might actually not feel like the cash cow. Perhaps if you actually opened up then you wouldn't feel persecuted and controlled. Perhaps then he would have a fresh look at his life.
What I wanted is the time for both of us to truly discover what we wanted and if, in a years time - that was divorce, so be it. What I never saw coming was a man that had already made up his mind a long time ago and could not be honest. In being with another partner so swiftly he has brought that year forward in a matter of days and I simply was not ready. I am shocked that I have been hit so hard by it but not as shocked as I was when I looked at him last night and realised that he feels no shame, no guilt and absolutely no emotions. It was as if the man I thought I knew is actually dead.
So, I am not sure how to proceed next. I lay in bed this morning and thought perhaps this is the time to make a new start. It would be a easier if I could simply pretend he no longer exists, but the children need to see him. I hope for their sake that the intention lasts.

I spoke with a friend yesterday who has just had her house re-possesed as her ex husband, promising that they would be safe - failed to pay the bills. Why can men not put their feeling to one side and do what is best for their children? I realised that we could both literally move sticks and start again. I am tempted to move abroad but it would make alternate weekends very difficult so for now, it can be ruled out. I see a session on prime location.

I would like to report that life is great, but I would be lying. I finally had my knee operation. General anaesthetics terrify me. I am convinced I will not wake up. As a result I had to write guardianship letters beforehand. Finding someone that would agree to moving in and raising my children in a manner that I could look down and approve of, was no easy task but blessed with a selection of truly wonderful friends - I found someone who agreed. Then I had to write letters to each child. By the time I got to the RUH, I was beside myself. By the time I got to speak with the anaethatist - they were beginning to question whether I had in fact, escaped from the psychiatric ward. At one point the nurse congratulated me on my ability to not sob for an entire two minutes.
I found the form filling taxing. Who do you put down as next of kin when your husband hates you. The teenager offered his mobile number before I left and said 'If anything happens, they can call me at school'. So sweet but I felt it a little inappropriate and so I chose my father. It felt a little like being 15 but in the current circumstance, I could ill afford to be picky.
I was quite relieved to survive and equally surprised that a couple of hours later I was back home. The general and locally applied drugs do afford a false sense of security and I was quite proud of my ability to walk around, until I tried to do the same in the morning when the pain relief had worn off.

Fortunately I had a beautiful teenage girl come and stay to look after me. There will be no moaning about teenagers on this blog, if it had not been for a handful of local ones I would have never survived. Dog walks, childrens baths, dinner and getting read school was all taken care of and all I had to do was lie on my back with my leg in the air.
Recovery went quite well until I discovered that 'it' has in fact left his old life and is already sleeping with another woman. At this point, even the drugs did not knock me out and I failed to get sleep for 48 hours. I am not sure that Facebook is the most appropriate way to discover that your husband has decided that the local Business Manager is offering more support than he ever thought possible. As a result I am now on crutches, my foot is sticking to the right and I am in agony.

To say that I am stunned would be an understatement. In 22 years I have never doubted his honesty, nor his fidelity. I accept that he appears to be in the midst of a mid life crisis, that he will not really acknowledge his depression or the way he has behaved for the last couple of years: but I can never accept this. He was hoping that I will believe that they simply play Ludo together. I cannot comprehend that within a couple of weeks of moving into his own house, he has met someone, spend nights with her, told his family, posted her on Facebook and not even told his own children that he is never going to sort any of this out and never coming home. Why would anyone man, except the cruelest, behave in the most inconceivable way.

In truth, I had suspected it - the teenage had thought that he was being less than honest when he had asked if he could stay there and 'It' had claimed that he was going out and would not be back until midnight. Rightly so because he was staying with, as his friends call her 'his chick'. It is beyond my comprehension that he would chose this woman over spending a night with the one son he struggles to bond with.

He has destroyed me. Until this point our marriage was at rock bottom and had been on a downward spiral for some time. Every depression councilor I had spoken to had assured me that his behaviour was one of a man in denial, and that he needed a severe jolt to truly see what was going on. Until this - all of the issues were about us and our family. They no longer are because he crossed a line that he cannot step back over.

In doing so he has destroyed any tiny spec of my recognition of him. I feel like a sitcom parody: the stupid wife who always thought that her husband would never betray her trust. The man I knew would never do this and yet the man he is, has not only done it but been proudly declaring it to all and sees absolutely nothing wrong with it. I suspect that perhaps in a couple of years he will realise everything he has destroyed and thrown away: but I know that he may continue protecting himself and never acknowledge it. If he was the man I knew, he would have hated himself for this - but the one he has become seems so proud of himself and so unaware of what he has done to his family. In a desperate bid to feel good about himself, he has thrown away his old life and in taking on such a swift and full on relationship - seems to be trying to pretend he never had one.
It is so hard to articulate. All of the things we ever shared have gone overnight. Listening to all the bile that he has shot in my direction over the last few weeks, I imagine that this was just the icing on the cake for him. I told him we need to talk about it 'What for' He said. In the midst of this conversation he finally admitted that though able to pay a large part of the mortgage off, he had chosen not to since he is convinced that this is the only reason I was with him and if he was 'Since that is all your are interested in, I would have been pretty stupid to have paid it" I sense that he has never really grasped the concept of family. He then he informed me that i could have the house as a present. It was not put in such a manner in which you would normally expect to receive such a present and I did point out that since looking after children for 15 years had rendered me incapable of paying the mortgage on it - it was not a gift I would be able to accept with ease. Stupid, stupid man. If I had been after money - I would be pretty stupid to chose a man that never gave me any. I doubt he will ever see that I stayed with this marriag through some pretty dreadful periods because I wanted my family to survive, I wanted my children to have a father. If I simply wanted the house, I could have taken it a very long time ago.

I did tell him tonight that he needs to speak with the teenager. I gather that he asked if he had any questions. Such a strange thing to say, as if his new relationship is perfectly acceptable and should his children want to know anything about his new woman, the need only ask. I do not think that he will ever comprehend that having him walk out on Boxing day and be with another woman so swiftly - is an appalling concept for children to take on board. They won't remember the past but they will certainly remember this.

It would be so much easier if I hated him. I don't but I feel sorry for him. I think he is a deeply, deeply unhappy person that dislikes himself. In a bid to avoid that, he is so busy blaming everyone else that his life is on self destruct mode and he is destroying everything that should have made his life complete. In his mind this woman makes him feel good, so therefore I make him feel bad and thus confirms that none of this is his fault. It must be mine.

So at the moment, I am concentrating on feeling sorry for myself. I have the feeling that comprehending that someone you loved for so many years is capable of inflicting so much pain and yet be above guilt. Someone that you had children with, so incapable of seeing the damage he has inflicted on them.

I suspect it will take me some time.