"Invisible"

"What was, was"

My life as it were.

I was newly separated and in emotional pain all the time, way back in the late 1980s and early 1990s. My daughter Melissa had been born prematurely, and thereafter our security and lives changed forever. Life would never be safe again. It would not be sane. I would not have any skills or talents ever again.

The life I trusted and those I loved turned vicious.

This is my story, Melissa’s story, and Michael’s story, which he would tell had he lived.

I also learned that, for my children, I would have to reinvent my life, probably get a job again, and become another one of five children in my parent’s home as I was before I was married,

I was nothing in my eyes. Pretty, yes, educated and with a great family, yes. But what about me? I was a failure, a disgrace, a NOTHING. I was useless and was in shock from 1989 to 1993. It was an unreality check for me and I stayed away from everyone. I lived on the third floor in a small suite with the kids’ room across the hall.

I was a therapist with a resume anyone would kill for, in my late 30’s. I had always been independent, creative, and a born entertainer. A professional pianist and musician. A writer with skills who had a photographic memory and learned everything she could by looking at work or reading books.

I used to be a people magnet. I was used as a means to get business or clients for my husband, and his practice but I did not care. I was young and naive.

I had been living in a self-designed house on 2 acres of prime real estate in Northern Johannesburg with my attorney husband, who is the father of both my children. His behavior had always been erratic, but I understood that to be par for the course. He was popular and made money and then some.

When he remembered, I would get a housekeeping allowance and was able to pay the maids and buy food. I loved him with all my heart. I trusted him in everything. We traveled all over the world, He was my friend and my lover and was a handsome son of a bitch to boot. He insisted on my having only the best of everything and I saw no red flags. I was worth it. Or was I just another pawn? He would have Malls opened just for me. Perfumes were flown in from Europe. Money was no object. I thought we were happy.

I was wrong.

The marriage did not work out after my daughter was born.

He left us, and I was stranded a thousand miles from home without an income for 8 months and I had told no one.

I had no one to talk to, and I had to tell my parents. They flew up, looked at me and the kids, and packed a bag. tor the three of us We left, I went back with the kids, mom, and dad, to Kenilworth where I had lived as a child. I felt immediately resented and a little loved at the same time .

I was ashamed. I was terrified. I had no one and nothing. I had grown up in Cape Town. This was familiar ground, but I had changed. I was severely depressed. I had had it all and lost it and was reminded of that fact all the time. I probably did the reminding. But the look in my father’s eyes told me what a disappointment I was to him, his eldest child, now living at home as the other kids had done.

This is a long story. I am talking too much.

I lived there, in Kenilworth with one brother whom I love and adore, 2 maids, and 2 kids. A mom and a dad. I said that already.

I was expected to take care of myself AND the kids, especially the baby, Melissa.

Due to my poor self-esteem and self-hatred, I guess, I just wanted to hide and sleep. My mother would wake me at all hours of the day and night to take care of my baby. She was not their mother she said – I was, and she was, as always, correct.

For that, I am grateful beyond words. Most adults with children merely handed their babies to a nanny or a caregiver and went shopping and had fun. I did not. I was a mother and being a good mom is a tough job. I did not drive or go out. I stayed in the general area of the house. Read a lot and thought about many things, positive and negative. I was still no one. I had no money of my own and 3 dresses or outfits, jeans, and a few T-shirts.

It kind of sounds the way I live now some 30 years later. Did I really repeat my mistakes? I believe that I am accountable for ALL of them.

Or, for part of them? It is blurry to me. I looked different and I was skinny and looked younger than I was. I did not initiate conversations with anyone.

My children told me that they wanted to be with Gran rather than with me and I had no answer to relieve that pain, innocent though those words might have been.

Innocent my ass.

They were NEVER innocent. They were targeted to belittle hurt and shame me. They do to this day.

Thanks all. I have learned that despite my lack of income, health, and talent the fact that I survive is a mistake. I won't repeat it.