The cunty pedo had been arrested a year or two earlier…for non-related cunty pedo acts…just your run of the mill home invasion, kidnapping, assault on a police officer type stuff. And somewhere in here, I knew it gave me relief. A chance to not be scared of him lurking around, showing up randomly whenever he felt like it.
I had told my Grandparents somewhere around here too. They were devastated in their own ways. My Grandfather cried and apologized. My Grandmother cried and asked if I was sure then apologized. It explained a bit for them.
But as alopecia was setting in, the girl’s father decided he wanted to go and ‘find himself’ and wanted to know if I could have them back for eight months while he found his lost self.
This was a pivotal point of time for me.
Theres not too many times that the stars and moon had aligned in my favor…but this was one of them. I of course said Yes. I felt like I was way more ready to do what I needed to…and to grow up. To give them the mother that I knew I could be, but just didn’t know how to be. It’s an understatement to say I was elated and clean out what was left of my critter life, to make way for them.
Somewhere around this time, I had been talking to a pastor dude…used to be a member of The Salvation Army peeps. And he was on a mission to save the lost soul. But I got a chance to ask, challenge and discuss my version of Christianity with someone who claimed to be a Christain…of considerable ranking pfft.
And I challenged the shit out of him. And he kept coming back. I think I fascinated him slightly and even though he couldn’t and wouldn’t admit it, he seemed to agree with some of the inconsistencies I had theorized about re his religion.
Because he was so open to my challenges, I went back to church. Back to his church…his religion. I did my own version of it…which did not fit with the pious-ness around me…but as per usual, I did it my way. Anyway.
By the time the girls came back, I was ready. Mentally.
I wasn’t ready for all my hair to fall out. I went to the Doctors and then specialists. Not a lot was known about alopecia then. The doctor and the specialist all said the same thing…’don’t know why its falling out…but its falling out…and we don’t know if it’ll grow back…and there isn’t anything we can give you to fix it’. Brilliant! Fuck knows how long of medical degree to obtain that type of information. Fucking brilliant alright.
I was petrified really and felt extremely vulnerable. Not just because it effected how I looked…it was all about not being in control of me…again.
This was the first time, I think, that I seriously questioned the medical professionals and what it was that they could do, about anything.
But as my girls settled in, and I got them into school…a bi-lingual school that catered for primary school up to form 2…year 8 I think it is now. It meant that they could remain together. I figured that they had been through enough instability and been through enough separation…I wanted them to remain together.
Because we were only thinking that this arrangement was going to last eight months, we made the most of it. It’s what we needed really.
It’s a beautiful thing, being in love with your children. When you figure out that they are such unique little individuals…and not to far from being mini mes ;).