My vision
For those of you who didn't already know and hadn't figured it out from the many clues I've posted over social media and this site, I am a recently separated father living with three wonderful boys.
Following my separation, I decided to do what all millennials do in the face of adversity. Start a blog.
"But why?" no one asked.
Well, I will tell you. I have always enjoyed writing. I was an insufferable teenager who was always working on a duff fantasy novel instead of getting a real job. My writing was derivative so I stopped. I got a real job.
I tried writing again in my late twenties and when the self e-publishing bubble burst I stopped. Truth is I was just being lazy and was thankful for the excuse. I still have half a novel somewhere on a flash drive buried in the dark recesses of my wall unit amongst the carcasses of starved spiders.
"To the point!" cried nobody.
In the last few years, I haven't been able to be creative at all. Even at work my sentences would be abrupt, my writing boring and unimaginative. In the last week though I've found it easy to vomit words onto a page. Whether these words have meaning or fulfil their purpose is up to my readers to decide.
However, my vision is two fold.
First, I find it incredibly cathartic. I've always been a closed book, wrapped in chains, locked in a chest, buried in the woods. Opening up through my writing helps me cope with my situation.
Secondly, if I can open up then surely anyone can? My hope is that it will help others in some small way, even if I never get hear about it.
When I wrote and published my first entry, it prompted a flurry of messages and one very unexpected phone call from someone who I didn't even know was struggling with life. That's not my story to tell. Maybe you will get to read it, but it will be via their own voice as a guest blogger. The point is, I take this as a sign that I am doing the 'write' thing. Get it? No?
"Get on with it!" groaned the man on the stairs who wasn't there again today.
O Tannenbaum
This week the boys had their first trip out with their mummy, mother, (depending on who is calling her) since the separation. She took them ice skating and they had been looking forward to it all week.
It was my job to make sure they all got up, got dressed (in clean clothes), brushed their teeth and were all ready to leave me in peace for a few hours. Some of that happened.
At the end of the trip we were all to put the family Christmas tree up together to give some sense of normality to the children. This is as far as we got before it all went wrong...
Don't worry! We will sort this. I won't go into what went wrong, but I'm glad we tried. For the kids. We will get better. The Christmas tree will be finished! Christmas must endure!
I couldn't find the cheese grater
My lowest point since my last post was before the ice skating. It started when I sent my youngest son into school in full uniform even though it was 'spotty day'.
My eldest had to take him to school and I was devastated when I got the call. The little one was so upset and his older brother had no choice but to deal with it and take him to the teacher while I was stuck at home with the virus.
Children in Need was the week before so it hadn't even occured to me to check the date of the school's non-uniform day. A lesson learned and a mistake never to be repeated.
Later that day, I was making dinner for my youngest and to make it up to him I let him choose whatever he wanted. His brothers were out with friends and he wanted his favourite. Pasta, cheese, ketchup, and mayo. Don't judge! It isn't an everyday occurrence and I promise I provide a range of food for him. I can't promise he eats it though.
Anyway, the pasta was boiled, drained, and on the plate. The next step was simple. Add cheese. The problem is, when the time came, I couldn't find the cheese grater.
This was when I started to feel uneasy. I started to panic. Had the missing cheese grater become a metaphor for my inability to provide for my children as a single father? If I can't grate cheese on pasta, how can I sort school, the house, Christmas?
It became my solitary focus to find that cheese grater. I looked everywhere. The washing up, the sink, every cupboard, every drawer. I even checked the kid's bedrooms (I don't know why, don't ask). All the time the cheese grater was missing I was becoming more and more desparate.
Eventually, after ten minutes of searching the house, I took a breath, calmed myself and had another look where it should've been. And there it was, in the cupboard, round the corner, just out of sight.
Relief washed through me once I found it and I realised it wasn't a portent of any kind. It was simply that I really wanted to know where the cheese grater was.
The reason I picked this tale to tell is to show that those dark moments of desperation can be fleeting. Try not to panic, take a breath, it's going to be fine.
I'm not saying all moments are like this and I'm not saying despair can't be lasting. I am simply relating my story hoping it helps someone else.
For those who feel so desparate they can't see a cheese grater in the corner of their cupboard, there are plenty of agencies that are willing to listen.
So, don't do anything rash. Reach out. There is always someone willing to help.
Especially at this time of year.