(Hmm, even as I typed the last sentence I found myself wondering, guiltily, if it’s actually all my fault that I don’t get any help at home. That is another story though.)
Right now my ex-husband has moved back into my flat, with me and our children (a long story that I won’t go into right now) and does next to nothing to help with the chores. I badly want to tell him to get out, but I admit I’m afraid that things might get ugly if I do. Still, I know I am going to have to tell him that sharing a space just isn’t going to work.
Anyway, I read Emma’s comic and almost every frame made me want to cry because it was such a relief to know that it wasn’t all just me being a total failure at managing and being assertive and all the rest.
I will never forget how people I’ve only known online (and some of them for not very long) have been so lovely, especially during my recent plunge into total despair.
Then there are family members who’ve not been able to spare a single kind word. Even with me telling them exactly what’s wrong and asking for help.
I once had to attend this workshop run by a self-help coach and he said that the good thing about being in trouble is that it forces you to ask for help. Apparently, asking for help (which we tend to find hard) leads to you realising how awesome people are – cos they will all rush to try to assist you. Yeah, people, but not family members. One family member has tried to help me and she’s the one who is really not in the position to do so. That seems to be quite a common thing – the ones who can be of assistance don’t want to know, but the ones who are struggling try their best. Gah!
Should I not judge? I don’t care. I’m going to totally do so, cos, honestly, I’m disappointed. So disappointed.