That’s Dictionary.com’s word of the day. Adjective: askew; awry
Yep. That about sums up how I’m feeling right now. It feels like discombobulated mixed with anger.
Normally I’d be trying my damndest to supress this feeling. I have to be on top form. I have to make sure everyone else is ok. But today, just for a few hours, I’m going to go with it. The girls are at school. OH is at the gym. So I’ve taken myself off to our garden room with Cat to experience catawampus.
The weather matches my mood. Cat and I are basking in the glow of a weak electric fire which has pumped up the temperature to 7.9 degrees. The roof leaks. So, chilly and wet. Apt. Askew. Awry. (Those aren’t bars on the window by the way. They are my home grown skew-whiff pea sticks.)
Last night OH and I organised the second meeting of our local adoption support group. This time 4 others pitched up and it was great. We’ve planned the next one. We’ve planned a day out with the children. We’ve even got the local authority to pay for our venue. And we had sandwiches. Brilliant. No catawampus there.
When we got home I checked my e mails. There was one from my old union rep, who was asking me to look at an attachment – which she had not attached – from HR about the investigation into my line manager. I left work 5 weeks ago. The union were not supportive when I was going through hell. Now, after I have given up my job, they decide to take action?! My sleep last night was marred by nightmares about work. I woke up exhausted and in a funk.
And then I turned on the radio. Big mistake. I caught the tail-end of Thought For The Day, which annoys me intensely at the best of times. This morning there was some chap banging on about motherhood. Maybe I got the wrong end of the stick, but in my funk I thought he was implying that adopters are not ‘real mothers’. I stewed in the shower.
Bless twitter and @MendingMum for making me laugh, and @mumdrah for telling me it is ok to be angry.
I’m only just beginning to believe that it is ok for me to be angry. I tell Bubble often enough that it is ok to feel anger, and I try to help her explore how she can let that anger out. And I truly believe that for her. But I grew up with the very firm message that Nice Girls Don’t Do Anger. I’ve carried that message all my life. And we all know The Body Keeps The Score. So now it’s time to discard that message for me. A little bit at a time. And what better way to do that than basking in some catawumpy ruminations in a chilly and damp garden room, with Cat on my lap?