I sit staring at the large white clock to the point some may think I’m fixated. It reminds me of the type of clock I used to have at school. I would stare at that clock for hours longing for time to lapse around me.
“Miss Parkinson… Miss Parkinson, can you hear me”
Shut up I thought, of course I can hear you, it doesn’t mean I want to!
But it was I who had came here, no one had asked me to, I wasn’t forced, dragged kicking and screaming.
It was I who had picked up the phone, dialled the number, made an appointment.
Now I didn’t know what to say…I didn’t… well no, I did know why I had come. But now I was confused so fucking confused.
“Miss Parkinson, have you got to be somewhere”
Bloody hell, now I felt as if I was in school! Seriously is he joking?
Sarcasm within therapy whatever next!
“No” I said
“Ok let’s get started, but at your own pace…OK?”
I nodded, I wanted to speak, really I did. I had a lot to say but now I was here my head it was all muddled like a jigsaw with pieces missing.
I had been here before, I trusted him, the man who wore the nonjudgemental face, the man who always had a box of Kleenex at the ready.
That’s why I chose here you see, I needed to see the Kleenex man!
I’m still staring at the clock, its tick and its tock can be heard through the bitter silence.
He coughs…. I look round
He smiles as he passes me those tissues.
Taking one I hold it tightly in the palm of my hand, if I don’t I know I’ll fiddle with it… likely pick it to tiny little pieces.
I take a deep breath in closing my eyes I excel opening them once more.
“Nobody believes me” I said.
I can feel it, the warm water leaving the corner of my eye. Please don’t ask me, I think. But then he speaks
“Who… Who doesn’t believe you, and what is he they don’t believe” he asks inquisitively.
Once more the room is filled with silence and I can hear the ticking and the tocking of the clock. I look down and there scattered around my feet are tiny pieces of tissue.
“Who…?” he asks once more.
As I go to open my mouth I taste the salt form my tears, like a child I catch my breath…
“The school… The school” I whimper.
Silence once more… Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…
Then before he can ask…
“My son’s school, they don’t believe what is happening, they think it’s me… They think it’s all my fault!”
“They won’t help me… No one will, why, why won’t they help” I plead.
You see, I was close to the edge of crazy, so fucking close. The situation was costing me my health, what kind of mother would that make me? On That very day and at that very time I wasn’t aware of what I’m aware of now! The very beginning of a Journey one I never planned on taking, I don’t have a choice, no one asked me if it was okay, god didn’t ask me. I hate it when people say that god does everything for a reason, he chose me because I’m strong. Sat here writing this I remember that day with my therapist so clearly, and on that particular day I felt anything but strong! I felt desperate, I felt as if I was standing on a mountain screaming and nobody looked up… Nobody! Your little boy is hitting you, his so angry and he charges at you like some crazed bull, but his not a bull his a 6 year old child who tells you “mummy I hate you” as he rages with sheer frustration! But why is he frustrated? It’s just that, my lack of knowing… He wants me to, he needs my to understand what his feeling! I miss the trigger I then spend a lifetime discovering it. No one can teach me, I need to learn myself! But this doesn’t mean we don’t need answers… Everybody needs answers!
Ashamed I said nothing, for a while anyway. But i’m no super mum and soon I broke… Started crumbling into a heap of madness, but when I reached out, there was no one there to catch me. I didn’t say I needed parenting tips, I didn’t need some false caring stranger visiting my home and judging my parenting… Especially when I had asked my sons school for help. I felt judged, bullied… I felt disregarded! They failed to notice the bigger picture, they almost cost my child his diagnosis of Aspergers syndrome, they almost cost me my sanity!