PTSD

C didn't bond with our youngest daughter immediately. She was being breastfed and it didn't go terribly well. When she wasn't nursing, she was fussy and noisy, and only I had the necessary tools to calm her. It didn't help that his mother was chattering in the background about her opinions on the subject. She had 4 babies and never breastfed any of them. You know you can't see what they're getting? How do you know she's getting enough? No-one else can bond with the baby when she's always with Mum, it's not very fair on her Daddy... I think women everywhere have perfected the quiet smile we offer the mother-in-law when they come out with that kind of crap.

However, as S started showing her personality more, she became a Daddy's girl.

As I've already previously stated, S is her sister's opposite in almost every way. J is loud, fierce and fiery. S is quiet, well behaved and laid back. She's the easy child. S learned from a young age that she could get away with a lot more by making us laugh, or by cold, hard logic. It's very difficult to discipline a child who shows absolutely no response to any type of punishment. I'd put her on the naughty step, and she would sit swinging her legs and singing to herself. I would take away a treasured toy, and she would tell me she had lost interest in that toy, anyway. That kid is destined for greatness; whether it's the greater good or the greater evil, time will tell!

This made her the perfect child for a narcissist. She's pretty, very intelligent, and never - or at least rarely - shouts back. Her school reports are always glowing, with never a critical word to be said. She is the calming waters to J's wildfires. Her father absolutely doted on her and showered her with affection, attention and gifts. J would watch on while her sister escaped punishment for misdeeds that would have earned her the loss of a favourite item. S - with all her patience - would go with her Dad to events that appealed to his interests, and would be rewarded with expensive gifts picked up while they were out. J's anxieties would prevent her from participating in the same events. As J and her father drifted further and further apart, she would demand more and more of my time. 

This meant in the initial period after the separation, S was very much easy pickings for C. Having always hero-worshipped her Dad, it didn't occur to her that he might not have been honest with her when he spoke about me. He told her - as I said in my last entry - that I placed her at risk by leaving her with her dangerous and violent sister. He also told her the same stories about how I was trying to steal his money. He told her - and absolutely everyone else who would listen - that I have poisoned J against her father and/or refusing to let him see her. He said that J had always been my favourite and as I kept J in the divorce, S should stay with him. It even worked, for a while.

My world collapsed around me just before Christmas, in an event that is extremely painful for me to talk, write, or think about; but my therapist tells me I should try to stop avoiding it.

I had managed to get some annual leave over Christmas. A first for many years, and also much appreciated and needed as our first Christmas without their father. We planned to drive to Scotland, and spend the season with my family. In the few weeks preceding the trip, C had some choice opinions to share with S; both about the travel during a pandemic, and about my family. He led her to believe this trip would be awful for her, being dragged away from her father, and restricted to staying inside my Dad's flat the whole time. S told me she wasn't keen on going, but still agreed to the break. 

On the day that the UK announced the lockdown beginning over Christmas, the whole plan went to shit. In my stressed-out state, I came up with a loophole. The restrictions didn't come into effect until midnight; we could travel now. I know that not everyone would agree with this, and I didn't discover till later that this would still have been a breach of the rules. However, I needed my family more than I can say. Most of our gifts were already in Scotland, and I had no provisions to make a Christmas dinner just for us. I gave the girls a choice; we either packed up and left immediately, or the entire trip was off. They both excitedly agreed to start packing.

While I was busy packing my own things and clearing out the car, S had made contact with her father. She had texted to say that we were leaving for Scotland shortly, and she would ask me if we could stop to say goodbye on the way. In response, he told her the journey was illegal, that it would be a wasted trip. He said he had spoken to his solicitor (on a Saturday evening? Yeah, sure) and the police, and we would be 'denied entry'. You know, at that massive border control that doesn't exist between England and Scotland. He told her he would come and collect her, and not to even speak to me. He told my daughter to pack a bag, walk out of my house and get into his truck, without saying a word to me.

I caught her just outside. She had completely emotionally shut down and didn't want to talk to me. C was already there, along with his new girlfriend. Both of them had their phones raised at me, recording the exchange. Until this point, the new girlfriend was irrelevant to me. Just another supply for the narcissist - if anything, I even felt like I should try to warn her. When I saw her recording me on her phone while she was taking my child, that all changed. That incident - any many since - have led me to believe that she is just as bad as he is. They're well suited to each other, and maybe to running a Victorian workhouse. I privately call them Master and Madame Thénardier (if you get that, we will definitely be friends).

My doorbell camera picked up the whole exchange, but I still haven't brought myself to watch the footage. What happened is just too traumatic to revisit. C convinced S that the police had my registration number and they would pick us up on the road. He told her that at 12 years old, she had the choice to where she wanted to live and she obviously didn't want to live with someone who would expose her to this kind of risk. I tried and tried to talk to her, but he wouldn't leave me alone with her and countered everything I said to her with more accusations. I regret that I certainly said a few things I shouldn't have said, but it felt like a part of me was being ripped away. The entire altercation probably lasted around 10 to 15 minutes, but finally I could see that there was nothing more I could do. I had to say goodbye to my daughter for an unknown amount of time, and watch her leave. All the while, being watched and recorded by my abuser and his girlfriend.

As I stepped back inside the house, I broke down. I've never in my life felt like that and I'm terrified of ever feeling it again. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't speak. I had what I now recognise as a panic attack, which unfortunately also then included an asthma attack. J called my friend, who is also a neighbour and a nurse. She came straight over and somehow eventually calmed me down before she had to call for an ambulance. As my breath came back, my pain sadly stayed. Poor J witnessed the whole thing, including her father's insistence on taking S to protect her, yet not even enquiring of his other daughter's wellbeing. The police were called, who came out and were very kind... but powerless. We didn't have a court order in place, and S had gone willingly. The officers who attended didn't know anything about his supposed report to them, and also told me there's no way they would have taken my registration plate to stop the car during travel; that's simply not how they work. 

Our trip was cancelled. I couldn't leave in case S decided she wanted to come home. Christmas day was a lonely day with just me and J; and our small cache of gifts. The rest were in Scotland, out of reach. J had nothing to open from her Dad; his gift to her had been £100 sent to my bank account the week before Christmas. She did however hear what her sister had received; a brand new iPhone 11 and a set of AirPods. He even gave the same to his girlfriend's daughter. She was miserable and didn't want to spend time with me. She spent most of the day alone in her room, refusing company or entertainment. She was even self-harming that day. It was easily the worst Christmas of her life.

S came home on boxing day for 6 hours. That was it. She went back to her father's and I didn't see her again until 2021. From then on, all I was permitted was Friday to Sunday on alternate weekends. I was absolutely powerless to do anything about this, except wait for the court to make a decision on her behalf. Our first hearing was mid-January, but they couldn't make a court order on that day; we were told the next hearing would be mid-May. In the meantime, the Child and Family Court Advisory and Support Service (CAFCASS) would be making investigations and providing the court with a report, including their recommendations. I will follow up in another entry with what happened in this time.

I've told very few people in my life this, but last month I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). This stems mostly from that horrible event just before Christmas of 2020, but also from the trauma left by my marriage and the abuse during and beyond it. I wake sweating with my heart racing from nightmares of losing my daughters, and I can't discuss that event without breaking down. I am more prone to anxiety symptoms; shaking, nausea, insomnia and heart palpitations. Even typing this blog tonight has been distressing; it has taken easily twice as long as my usual entries take, and it has been broken with quick breaks to blot my tears and blow my nose. My fingers are trembling as I type, and I know my pulse is way above its usual resting rate. I don't intend to read this for errors before publishing, and I don't know if I'll ever want to return to this entry and read it. If any readers are mothers, can you imagine why? 

It was weeks after the event that another concern occurred to me. C told me he had given my car's registration to the police. My car was fairly new, and he had only seen it a couple of times. How did he know my registration plate? So either he was lying to me - which seems likely - or the truth is even more disturbing. If he gave them my car's registration, then he had made a deliberate note of it way before knowing he would need it. I have to wonder why.