The lessons we learn.

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There is a pig in our toybox, with SAM written on it in biro.

I was contemplating it yesterday, following a conversation with my Pie. At eight, she has a boyfriend. He dumped her for her friend and then started calling her a pig, shouting ”bacon’ at her across the playground. She is considering taking him back because he’s promised not to call her names anymore.

I am so sad about this. I am trying to get through to her, even at this tender and innocent age, that this is not what she should be settling for at all. To set her sights higher.

The pig in the toybox was graffitied by my ex husband. I was playing with my babies and the farm and it was his idea of a joke (what’s the matter, can’t you take a joke? Mummy’s got no sense of humour, has she? Silly pig Mummy, oink oink’).

I have no idea why we still have the bloody thing, I have never got round to throwing it out, the farm still gets played with and I don’t often remember it’s there.

I am married now to a man who has never called me a pig, or lazy, or fat, or a cunt. Who compliments me several times a day, who puts my needs ahead of his, who is respectful. And that’s how it should be, for everybody. We work hard to make the other happy, instead of doing things that are upsetting or hurtful or selfish or spiteful.

I thought I was doing enough to model good relationships for my children, but I’m starting to realise the damage may have been done. I don’t want her to make the mistakes I did, to seek out the ‘bad boys’, to not value herself, to tolerate abuse.

I tell her every day that she is so beautiful, and clever, and funny and special and loved. I don’t know now if it’s enough. It took me until I was twenty six to claw my way out of the fog of insecurity, to realise that it was possible to be happy on my own, to know that drama does not equal passion. 

I want her to have the kind of real, solid, safe love that I have now, without having to go through the teenage heartbreak and then the abusive cycle of relationships that so many of us experience. I want to protect her from being called names, from the shifting sands of living with a liar, from the physical and emotional hurt.  Every relationship I ever had until I met Rob was damaging in its own way, and each one left its own scars.

I am terrified for her. How can I protect her from the world and all its dangers when the biggest threat is her own self esteem?

 

 

About Just Some Stuff About Us

I live in West Sussex with three bonkers children and a Rock God for a husband. I'm somewhere in my thirties but I frequently have to count on my fingers to remember where exactly. I like to talk about myself and my chums. Some people like to read it.

6 responses »

  1. You carry on doing what you are. You love her, you build her up, you listen to her. She will suffer heartache, but she can rely on you to listen. You show her how it is to be respectful and respected. You teach her to be happy in her own skin, with all her quirks and Pie-isms. She won’t settle for less – the Rock God is showing her how people should be treated (not just women).

  2. Scares me too as a mother of two girls. I grew up with no decent male role model. But fortunately married a lovely man. Just have to hope that telling them & showing them they are loved it enough.

    • I had really lovely role models (my Dad is wonderful and I had two Grandads and loads of Uncles) and STILL ended up with a succession of arseholes before finding the lovely Rob.

      All we can do is hope, and love them, and protect them, as much as we can.

      Thanks xx

  3. I guess everyone has to make their own mistakes? If children get hurt, but they’re brought up in a loving, supportive environment, then I believe they’ll eventually come right. At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself when I worry about my 8-month old daughter’s future. People have to learn that some folks are bad, before they can learn to avoid them…..

  4. Thanks Nell. That’s a very good point. It’s a shame the baddies dont’ all have twirly mustaches and black hats! Life would be much easier.

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