Well. I went to visit my mum, originally was just going to meet her for the afternoon at Canterbury but decided the journey to and from was gonna be too much so I would stay at hers for one night, which turned into two as I was not ready to go back and was enjoying the peace and quiet.
Just complicated by the fact that my son obdurately refused to talk to me or even acknowledge my presence. Not even a hello.
This despite having a two hour phone conversation with him in the middle of the night a few days ago. He called me needless to say.
He just can’t face seeing me in person. My depression tells me this is because I am just unacceptable as a person, let alone a mother. He doesn’t want to see me because it just brings him down. And he has enough on his plate already.
It’s understandable, all too understandable. Given the foster care, given the many times he has felt let down by me. He has difficulty trusting anyone he says. He also tends to reject people before they reject him.
All of this is a cautionary tale to anyone out there with a severe mental illness when thinking of having a child. I didn’t even get to choose. I was psychotic when I got pregnant and psychotic throughout the first six months of the pregnancy. I didn’t worry about my lack of a period because my periods had stopped the previous November and he was conceived in the middle of March. It does seem as if he was determined to be born. But it hasn’t worked out well.
I was high for most of last year and am still enduring five plus months of depression as we speak.
Being blanked by my only child doesn’t help. But it is what it is and I understand his reasons well enough.