Back to 'Domicile-ville'. That's what's in store for me after a couple of phone calls yesterday. In fact, back to the very room I first moved into in April 2011, albeit a room which is now en suite and a little bit smarter than its previous incarnation. Going back there wasn't my first choice, but given the timescale and the financial considerations, it's probably the most practicable option.
Moving to pastures (re)new(ed) obviously entails leaving where I am now, though, and the realities of that certainly reared up and bit me when I got in after the last of eight straight night shifts yesterday morning. I knew the landlord was planning to advertise the flat, but to field an e-mail from the estate agents at 8:45 that they had arranged two viewings for nine hours or so hence was far from welcome, given the backlog of cleaning I'd managed to accrue. It led to me having to spend several hours of one of my few and far between days off making the place look at least vaguely presentable, as well as leaving me with backache and virtually no energy.
All of that, though, pales into insignificance compared to what K sprang on me yesterday evening. We'd arranged to meet at my preferred relatively local Wetherspoons for something to eat after she'd finished work, which duly took place. K had drunk a fair amount of wine, and, whether that was significant or not, felt herself compelled to confess that she's spent several years struggling, intermittently, with an eating disorder that she's never told anyone about. Despite her adamantly stating it was nobody's fault but hers, as a parent, and a parent who loves her very much, it left me wracked with guilt, for not noticing (although K has never been underweight, and has always seemed to eat normally when I've cooked for her, back at home and since she moved to London, over the years), for all the things I might have done, or failed to do, as she's grown up, for not being the stereotypical 'normal' father she had every right to expect. We talked about the situation to some extent last night, but I was almost braindead with tiredness by that point, so further discussions about what she needs, how to move forward, will undoubtedly be required, sooner rather than later.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Moving to pastures (re)new(ed) obviously entails leaving where I am now, though, and the realities of that certainly reared up and bit me when I got in after the last of eight straight night shifts yesterday morning. I knew the landlord was planning to advertise the flat, but to field an e-mail from the estate agents at 8:45 that they had arranged two viewings for nine hours or so hence was far from welcome, given the backlog of cleaning I'd managed to accrue. It led to me having to spend several hours of one of my few and far between days off making the place look at least vaguely presentable, as well as leaving me with backache and virtually no energy.
All of that, though, pales into insignificance compared to what K sprang on me yesterday evening. We'd arranged to meet at my preferred relatively local Wetherspoons for something to eat after she'd finished work, which duly took place. K had drunk a fair amount of wine, and, whether that was significant or not, felt herself compelled to confess that she's spent several years struggling, intermittently, with an eating disorder that she's never told anyone about. Despite her adamantly stating it was nobody's fault but hers, as a parent, and a parent who loves her very much, it left me wracked with guilt, for not noticing (although K has never been underweight, and has always seemed to eat normally when I've cooked for her, back at home and since she moved to London, over the years), for all the things I might have done, or failed to do, as she's grown up, for not being the stereotypical 'normal' father she had every right to expect. We talked about the situation to some extent last night, but I was almost braindead with tiredness by that point, so further discussions about what she needs, how to move forward, will undoubtedly be required, sooner rather than later.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
Sammy, so sorry to hear this.
ReplyDeleteNevertheless, your great relationship with your daughter should be a key ingredient in getting her back to full health...and you two need to stop blaming yourselves, and move forward, indeed!
My prayers and good wishes are with you both!
Love,
-Andy
Hello Andy
DeleteThanks for your good wishes. We did speak a little more about the situation last night, but nothing concrete has been decided. Whatever else, there will be no lack of love and support from my side - anything K needs, that I'm able to give, will be hers, unconditionally.
Love & best wishes
Sammy B