Surviving

JULY 1996

For weeks Jess has been asking me to meet her boyfriend. Two and a half years into Uni now and on separate campuses doing different degrees, we’re both super-busy with lectures, assignments, study, work… we haven’t been able to line it up.

But today, it worked.

Jess picked me up and we drove to his place. The crunchy brown grass was giving the afternoon sun a yellow tinge, even mid-winter. This was every bit a tidy, boys share house, even from the outside: sparse, with lots of cars.

When the screen door opened, it wasn’t her boyfriend. Jess introduced his housemate, Connor.

Between Uni, multiple jobs and family, I’m around boys a lot. I’ve had a long-term boyfriend and short-term boyfriends. This has never happened before.

The minute he opened the door, I just knew this guy was going to be in my life for a very, very long time.

The boys were getting ready to go out. Jess and I agreed to join them.

It was dinner at an Irish pub, then dancing for hours. The music was so loud I could hear white noise ringing for hours after. We went back to the boys’ place and everyone else fell asleep while Connor and I talked till dawn.

Then he drove me home. We kept talking.

Two days later, I told my Dad I’d met this guy. We weren’t going out, but I just knew I was going to marry him one day.

I saw him every single day. We were simply drawn to each other.

Within a few weeks we were going out. Within a couple years we were engaged.

We lived together, built a home together, built our careers. I finished Uni and worked two jobs and a side hustle, while he worked a regular job and a side hustle. He was ambitious, thoughtful and charming.

We grew up together.

While we planned our wedding and built our house, we moved in with my parents. There were fresh lilies on my bedside table the entire time we were there. As soon as they started to wilt, he’d replace them with new ones.

Connor was a big-dreaming, hardworking entrepreneur in a sales job with a side hustle. Determined to eventually have the fancy house with a driveway full of sports cars and a fulfilled wife who wanted for nothing.

Our wedding was magical. We wanted all the same things, we admired each other, built each other up, worked hard, saw friends, we worked really well together. There was so much happiness.

We worked toward paying off our first home, we bought nicer cars, we travelled overseas and built so many more laughs, so many memories together.

Life was beautiful.

Opportunity came up to move interstate to Sydney for Connor’s work. I got a transfer too and then it was seriously just the two of us.

We had no family or friends in Sydney, so we explored and we threw ourselves into our careers. The pot he’d smoked back home just fell away: nowhere to smoke it in the apartment. He liked the casino, but I wasn’t the only girl whose husband liked a night out on his own.

Most of our time was adventures together or at work. Even at work, my office was in the CBD. When he had meetings in the city, he would drop my favourite coffee to the receptionist to give to me, on his way passed. I’d spend the weekends baking and send boxes of cookies for him to take to work, to share with his team.

He’s smart, good looking, super supportive of all I wanted to achieve in this life. I adored everything about him. And he was utterly besotted with me.

A few years on, we were ready for more. I remember saying there was just SOOO much love between us, how could it not spill over and manifest in a beautiful baby?

We were ready to make room for more than just the two of us, to have children. I wanted to be near family for that. So we moved back to Brisbane.

Pretty soon I was pregnant. We were both working, Connor was proud of my job and my business on the side. He was so excited for what I wanted to achieve. He could see the vision as clearly as I could. He helped around the house, it was all team effort. I never put petrol in my car, he just made sure it was always full. He adored me endlessly and showed it with constant acts of kindness.

Back in Brisbane, my work had more clarity than his did. Connor hit bad luck with a couple employers but he was never out of work for long.

He went back to smoking pot, but it never got in the way of his work and he was so driven I figured it would just fall away. He’d grow out of it, especially when kids arrived.

One Friday night my Mum had theatre tickets and invited me to join her. I was just about to leave when he called out Stop! Wait!

I waited a beat, then from the other side of the front door he said ok, you can come out now. I stepped through the doorway. He had pulled all my favourite roses off their stems from the bushes by the front door, now he was throwing them at my feet. Such a funny, sweet, romantic gesture.

Life was pretty perfect. Stressful sometimes, but that’s normal, right?

Another year on, our beautiful ‘blue-eyed boy’ Jack arrived. He was born in a heatwave and hasn’t felt the cold since.

He’s a perfect miracle. It was as though the size of our family was growing to accommodate the ever-expanding love within our walls. The pregnancy was beautiful, the birth was the kind of lovely experience that people with a difficult birth despise hearing about.

Jack’s birth was quick and Connor was by my side the entire time.

Born at 35 weeks, we had to stay at the hospital. By day three, I’d still not been home, but they’d transferred us to the Children’s Hospital. I was sitting in an upright chair 24/7, not sleeping, feeding every two hours so I hadn’t been home even to wash my hair, and fretting for Jack. Plus, I had all those post-birth hormones going through me.

Connor arrived after work on day three. He came into the room, picked up Jack and cuddled him. Over the top of Jack’s head, he looked at me like I was a monster. Like he’d never seen me so ugly, so foul. Like I was a disgusting stranger.

I did not cope well with watching my best friend fall in love with the new guy at the same time as completely going off me.

Six months later, I was still struggling. Nothing I did was right. I was on permanent high-alert to make sure Jack didn’t wake Connor through the night. He was increasingly stressed out. I’d be cooking and cleaning all day, feeding all night.

The Community Nurse referred me to Tresillian, a live-in program to help Mums sort out babies and kids’ routines. Jack was feeding every two hours, so neither of us were getting the rest we needed. Turns out I needed to let him cry a little longer, to not be so worried about Connor’s sleep being disturbed.

They sent me to the counsellor while we were there. I remember the counsellor saying Can we stop talking about strategies for calming your husband and start talking about strategies for you?

I was confused But he’s my only stress. If he wasn’t stressed, life would be perfect

Connor was permanently disappointed with me. Put out because he couldn’t sleep. Angry the washing wasn’t put away, angry I wasn’t cooking the pre-baby gourmet meals.

He was missing me apparently. But also, he didn’t like me. Was horrified at the kind of mother I was.

Blessedly, Tresillian helped me get the feeding under control and life settled into a more manageable pattern. Jack was the most divine baby. Strangers would stop me at the shops to tell me that my husband and I make beautiful babies, we should have more. He was curious and happy and he looked like a nappy-ad baby. So sweet.

Fast forward a couple of years and we also have the sweet picture – perfect Evie. Jack’s the most divine three year old. So easy, he’s curious and loving.

Late afternoon I’d been running some errands and was on my way home with my babies.

I was stopped by Police.

I was booked. Apparently Connor’s car was unregistered. I’d no idea. But it’s the third time he’s let the registration lapse because he doesn’t think he has to stick to someone else’s rules.

I’m furious. There’s the financial cost, and it’s illegal. Even more though, it’s the risk. In any kind of accident, we would have been screwed. He’s not just messed with out finances here, this is a safety issue.

I’ve been doing little bits of work around the kids. It’s not enough financially. The nest egg I saved up is all gone on baby expenses, groceries etc. In the past Connor’s generally been supportive of me working, as long as Mum can help out with babysitting.

Today the babies and I had to leave the car and walk home. About 3km.

Whenever I raise things like this, I’m instantly blind-sided. His only response is a rapid fire of all the things I’ve done wrong, am doing wrong. He’s stressed and I’m failing him.

Honestly I’m either a saint or the source of all evil for him. I don’t know what sets him off, I can’t understand it or predict it. Sometimes it’s me that sets him off: like today, me raising the issue of his car rego. Sometimes it’s nothing I can work out.

It never lasts for long. I’m an instant mess of tears, I promise to make changes, we don’t talk for a couple hours, then we do. Then he’s my sweet, thoughtful Connor again.

OCTOBER 2012

I’m 3 months pregnant. Another argument today. This is constant now. When I went to pay for groceries, my debit card declined. There was $1500 in there just days ago.

When I got home I checked online. $600 on regular direct debits, but then Connor took $900 out on Tuesday night. All at the club, over three hours, between 1am and 4am. I didn’t know he’d gone out.

That was our grocery money. Connor doesn’t want me to work. He says he supported my career, now it’s my turn to support him. I want to be supportive, but there’s no money for food!

I’m anxious every time I pass my card over at the checkout. I’ve stripped back every bit of spending I can think of. Mum’s been helping. She brings a sneaky half bag of groceries when she visits. She’ll say they had two for one on this today, so this lot cost me nothing.

I asked Connor to help with the kids so I can work. I promised I’ll still do all the groceries, the cooking and washing. Just do some drop-offs and I’ll organise an extra day of kindy.

It didn’t go at all well. Seemed to hit a nerve. I’m not trying to make him feel bad, but we need to pay our bills.

I don’t remember most of the conversation after that. He was angry. I just remember one sentence, it’s all I can hear in my head, over and over and over.

Just raise the kids and then you can fuck off

The kids were there. They heard. Thank God they won’t have understood.

I laid sobbing on the floor of my walk-in robe, curled in a ball, trying to hide from his eyes, his scorn.

Divine, two and a half year old Evie brought me her teddy bear and a cup of water, Jack brought me a blanket, then they walked out to sit on Connor’s lap.

JANUARY 2013

OMG I am BURSTING!!!

Threw a double pirate birthday party for Jack and Evie today. I’m 6 months pregnant and Connor hates birthdays, but the kids can’t miss out.

This was the perfect solution. Held it on a weekday, so Connor’s not thrown out. He didn’t even have to attend! All their mates are around with school holidays, my friends are the kids’ friends’ mums and they’re all so happy to be hands on and help out. So grateful for their help.

We had craft stations and pirate tattoos. I made signs for the garden and stapled them to tomato stakes. I painted a massive skull and crossbones onto old sheets for decoration and for party games. The kids walked the plank, followed a map to find hidden treasure buried in a sandpit. I painted rocks gold as part of the treasure in the sand.

Connor’s been so angry about it. He’s adamant I’m doing it for me. Says it has nothing to do with the kids. Why does he need to take the joy out of this? I’ve paid for it myself, I earned the money and made the props by hand, out of scraps.

I should just be elated right now. Instead I’m utterly chastised.

When I was little Mum and Dad celebrated our every birthday, with family and friends around. There was love and laughter. I want my kids to have memories like that. If that makes it about me, then I’ll have to wear that. But is it really a bad thing?

My babies had SOOO much fun. The girls took pics for me. We were all a bit of a hot mess in this heat, but God the laughs!! So much fun.

APRIL 2013

Scout arrived late last night

Connor took me to the hospital. Mum was home with Jack and Evie.

It was a beautifully easy birth- thankfully straightforward. I needed to use the gas a little. Connor sat in the other room of the birthing suite for most of it. So different to Jack and Evie’s births, where he was right with me the whole time, holding my hand or just being close.

Scout was born at 2am without complication. Spectacularly beautiful, absolute perfection.

The midwives filled in their paperwork while Connor took eight photos. A couple shots of Scout and I right after she was born, then a selfie in the same moment, with Scout and I. A couple pics once Scout was wrapped in a blanket, a couple with her snuggled next to me.

The midwives said we needed to stay till a doctor checked us over at 8am, then we could go home. They suggested we close our eyes and get some sleep before then.

Connor didn’t want to stay, said he was going home to get some rest and check on the kids. By 3am he’d gone.

By 8:30am, Connor had collected us, and we were all home. Mum and the kids were out of their skin overjoyed to meet Scout. Mum stayed for a bit to give me a hand. We took loads of photos, Scout with her brother and sister, Scout with Nana.

Meanwhile Connor slept off his ‘big night at the hospital’, out on the lounge for the rest of the day.

Welcoming Scout was so special. I knew she would be my last and I was savouring every fast-flying second.

Later I learned that Connor hadn’t actually gone home at all after Scout was born. He wasn’t with his wife, nor his hours-old baby. He wasn’t checking on his other young children, nor resting in bed at home.

I don’t know if he was scoring drugs or gambling that morning, I was too distracted. But even when he was in the house with us, his heart wasn’t in it. His work days were longer than ever and he was miserable at home. Unlike with Jack and Evie, there was no obsessing, no masses of photos with this baby.

JUNE 2013

Every other Sunday at the moment, Connor spends time with Jack or Jack and Evie. Scout’s about eight weeks and she screams with anyone but me, so while she’s napping I get into some washing while they’re out. There are way more jobs to do, than I can get to in any normal day.

Connor helps- he helps them ride their bikes; he’s teaching Jack to ride the skateboard; or just off on adventures. The time and the adventures are divine, the kids love it so much. Am I as evil as he says I am, for being uncomfortable with the location?

I’m really grateful that he takes the kids for a run and I can catch up on the housework, but I’m just so uncomfortable with one of the locations!!

He regularly breaks into the school behind us. Puts a ladder to our fence and one on the other side, throws the kids bikes over then lowers the kids to the ground one at a time.

Today they’re so excited to show me the photos. The kids had a ball. Connor had a ball. They’re all deliriously happy. I love that they’ve had the adventure, I hate that he’s teaching them that breaking in to private property is ok.

It’s not ok, it’s illegal!! We’re supposed to be setting these babies up to understand right from wrong.

Should I just be appreciative that he’s spending time with them, like he says I should?

I am appreciative.

AUGUST 2013

The kids and I all entered the baking competition at the local show. Awards all round.

I want the kids to feel connected to our community and I want to find as many reasons to celebrate them as I can find.

Just found out, we’ve won some awards in the baking competition! You can bet every family member is going to hear about it. And, of course, there’s endless pics of the kids doing the baking and holding their awards

It’s feeling like the calm before the storm. Connor’s always extra cranky with me around his birthday and mine, Christmas etc. My birthday’s not far off. At the moment he’s angry with his Mum. Next will be his sisters, then work. My turn will be last. Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe with a new baby in the house he’ll stay positive.

DECEMBER 2013

It’s nearly Christmas. Tensions are pretty high. My favourite Aunt’s 75th Birthday was 3 months ago today.

I have so much admiration and love for this lady. I adore her and the kids adore her. I asked Susan if I could make her birthday cake. I will be forever glad that I did, but I wouldn’t have guessed the price I would have to pay.

There are so many things I do wrong, apparently. The list is endless. I’m not house – proud, the kids are too noisy, I don’t keep them quiet when he wants to sleep or he’s watching the news, I’m obsessed with my business, I’m a crap daughter, I’m selfish as a wife, not interested enough in sex, the kids bedrooms are never tidy enough. But the one I can’t shake is Susan’s 75th Birthday Cake. Apparently to Connor, this is the pinnacle of my selfishness. By baking her a cake I was unavailable for him.

Apparently this is the incident that showed Connor I’m never available for him or the kids, that other people will always come first.

Each time he tells me what I’m doing wrong, I try to stop doing the thing that’s bothering him. It’s never enough. But the constant trying is crushing me. I’m permanently foggy, I can’t work out what I’m supposed to be doing.

I used to write my dreams in my diary. I had boxes full of diaries- experiences, joys and frustrations, starting when I was a teenager.

One day Connor got into them. He read that I’d had a dream I was traveling to England with another man. He completely lost it. Flew into a rage- said I was fantasising about travelling with another man. He tore the pages from the diaries, I was left sitting on the floor in a pile of huge confetti pages. Shreds of paper, shreds of tears.

Three months later my dream played out. My grandmother passed away. I travelled to England with my Dad to say goodbye and to bury her. Dad was the mystery man with me at the airport.

My every waking breath is for this family. I have the children permanently attached to me, I make every single meal he eats and regularly put love notes in all their lunch boxes, I try to focus on the positive always and I’m trying to ignore all the insults, but really? I’m not allowed to bake anymore for the people I love?

Baking is my happy place- it’s mediative and relaxing. But apparently, to him, it’s evidence of how selfish I am.

If he wants evidence of how bad I am, he’ll find it. I am far from perfect.

I just want to be enough for them. He tells me over and over that I’m not, with lots of specifics. Like baking a cake for Auntie Susan’s birthday.

JANUARY 2014

Our beautiful Jack started school this week. I cried so many proud joyous tears.

When we walk through school to come home, kids of all ages are calling out Bye Jack. His teachers think he’s sweet, clever, a delight to have around. And he is!!!

Each afternoon, Connor comes home stressed and exhausted. If he comes home to raised voices or kids upset, he gets so mad he doesn’t come back down.

So I’m hyper-planful. We do all the fun stuff in the mornings. In the afternoons there’s no craft, because we’re not exactly sure what time Daddy’s going to be home. We get the baths done and play non-messy games together, tidy our rooms. Every time we hear a car come into the street I call to the kids, as excitedly as I can, Is that Daddy’s car?

Jack and Evie stand at the big window by the front door and peer through the blinds, on tippy toes in anticipation. Is it, is it?

It makes a difference to all of us. Most days, it works a treat.

JUNE 2014

We went apple picking today- the kids loved it. The kids in their gumboots and puffer vests and woollies. Scout wobbly on her feet and Jack itching to climb every tree he sees. Connor even tried to smile for a photo.

He pushed the kids on the slides and the seesaw. Some really cute photos.

He’s so permanently stressed. Even on a fun family day out, he just looks angry all the time. I tell him he doesn’t have to live like this, he deserves to be happy and there’s so much to be thankful for. That’s not what he needs to hear apparently. He says it just shows I’m living in fantasy land. He says I’m disconnected and only interested in putting on a show, when really nothing is working, our marriage is a sham and life is shit.

To try and ease the stress, I picked up Angela’s Avon territory a few months ago, ... when she moved away. I’m hoping to make some extra cash to top up for bills and groceries. My consulting work is sparse with this many children, full-time.

This hasn’t stopped him taking all the grocery money to the club every couple of months but at least I’ve got a little spare cash so I’m not as caught out.

Connor says the Avon run’s a colossal waste of time, he hates seeing all the catalogues stack up as I sort them all out. He’s very specific. It’s a waste of time and an imposition on our lives. He means his life. Mostly I try to do it when he’s not here, but sometimes the only time I have is once the kids are in bed.

There’s a section at the back of the catalogue with clothes. I bought a dress- so pretty. And on super sale, they only had my size left.

I thought I could wear it to Josie’s wedding in September. Nothing like what I’d normally wear, it’s really sparkly. But I’m starting to feel a little less self-conscious. I’ve worked really hard to lose the baby fat, to move more, eat less of my own baking… All the walking, to deliver pamphlets has helped.

So this dress arrived. Rose gold colour, it’s like a t-shirt dress I guess. It was laid out on the bed after I tried it on. When Connor saw it there he absolutely lost it. Zero to furious. Flipped.

He didn’t even see it on me, only on the bed. Ranting about how ridiculous it is, how selfish to waste money like this. It was $60 and I was using birthday money from Mum and Dad. Connor’s biggest problem with this dress cut much deeper. How dare I stand out like that. How dare I try to be the focus.

The dress is back in its plastic, ready to return.

What I know now

… is that I was hearing old couples on the news, saying every marriage has its ups and downs, but you hang in there and it comes good. I thought this was our down. I didn’t see that I was endangered.

Every day I tried to help him more, help our marriage, I just got further entrenched. Lost more of myself.

JULY 2014

Family bike ride today. So many laughs. The kids fed the ducks and we rode home again! Probably only gone an hour, but they thought it was the whole day.

Days like this I feel like it’s paying off. I try to keep a low profile, make sure the house is calm, the kids healthy and happy, everyone’s fed food they like, Connor and the kids are all celebrated for anything I can think of. The little extra Avon cash is topping us up enough to ease a little stress. And unlike my consulting, I’m managing to get it done without Connor’s assistance in childcare.

Days like today it feels like it works for Connor too. No complaints, no bullying, I’m in the good books.

Fresh air with my husband and my beautiful kids, getting some exercise, enjoying the sunshine.

Bliss.

AUGUST 2014

Connor had the kids on the skateboard in our cul-de-sac today. He doesn’t have time often, but when he does the kids are enraptured.

He’s had the kids at the park twice this month, even Scout. Once with me, once without so I could catch up on things at home. Took so many photos – Connor on the play equipment with Evie, holding Scout on a swing. Jack has no fear on the climbing frames. He’s climbed this pyramid a hundred times with me. He’s straight to the top in seconds. Loves being up so high, looking all around him.

Took photos of them all on the skateboard. Connor’s riding the skateboard up and down the street. He’s got Evie under his arm, sitting up high near his face, so she can see the world from his big height. Connor’s feet were spread apart on the board and Jack was standing between them, helmet on, his little arms tucked in behind his Dad’s long legs, holding onto his knees.

Connor’s face isn’t registering any joy, but he’s giving the kids such beautiful memories and I’m grateful for them. Seeing their love is just what he needs too, I reckon.

He’ll come out of his stress. We’re going to be ok.

What I know now

… I was wrong. No doubt Connor was depressed and of course every marriage takes work. But if only one of you is working and the other is taking advantage? That’s not ok.

Instead of working together, the target on my back said ‘enemy’.

JANUARY 2015

Today was a mixed bag.

Connor took a turn with Evie in the pool for her swimming lesson this week!!! She’s terrified of this new pool, it’s open air so it seems enormous. Also, it’s enormous!

Really beautiful to be outside taking photos. Then we all had a splash in the smaller pool together, enjoying the last of summer. Connor took Jack in the big pool for a few laps. The kids are loving life today!

Tonight the weather was beautiful, so I decided to tackle a job I’d been meaning to do for ages. There’s a stain on the carpet under our dining table, from a milkshake spill a couple years ago. I’ve not been able to get it out, but one of the mums recommended a miracle cure. I’ve got a load of old towels, a bucket of water, a bowl of mixture and a few hours put aside to scrub this 70cm square stain from our cream wool carpet.

Connor was watching TV at the other end of the room while I scrubbed. By this stage, it was normal for him to turn the TV off when he left the room. Even if I was there, watching with him. I wasn’t able to sit on the lounge anymore. He never sat, he laid on the lounge, so there was no room for me to sit. There’s an armchair, but you can’t see the TV from there, so I just sit on the floor in front of the lounge. I’m never first to the TV, I’m always sorting the kids, the kitchen, the laundry. I’m like Cinderella.

Of course, if I want to keep watching, I can. I just have to get the remote and turn it back on. But I have to do it myself. Once upon a time, this man used to ask me if I wanted a cup of tea. Now he lets me know I’m not worthy of watching TV in my own home.

I’m not allowed to call him Connor anymore. I think we’ve had one too many serious conversations where I started a sentence with ‘Connor’. Now he’s angry every time I say his name. ‘Babe’ is the only safe word to get his attention.

He brings the mail in each afternoon too, and the bins on bin day. But he always puts the mail up high above my head, up on the microwave that sits above the fridge, so I can’t see it and need to bring a chair to reach it. I miss my mail a lot. The bins he brings in? Super helpful, right? Only he’s started storing them back to front. Connor’s super tall. He can reach anything. I’m not. I can only reach the hinge-side of the bins, I can’t lift the lids to put rubbish in. I have to pull