If you were on Twitter late last night you may have seen me Tweet something so passive aggressive I wanted to bitch slap myself upside the head. Something about needing someone to tell me everything was going to be OK.  Blah, blah.  A minor wobble shall we say.  I don’t know where it came from, but the thing with social media, sometimes you blurt things out before realising what you’ve said and then … it’s too late.


I’m not a sharer.  Tend to keep ‘shit private’ but  you see sometimes … I feel lonely.  There, I said it. I’m strong, confident and the rest of it (most of the time) … but being a single parent is a lonely place to be.  I am totally, 100% responsible for other human beings – making important, sometimes life-changing decisions and sometimes, when you have no one else to turn to, it feels like the scariest place in the world to be.


The other thing about social media is that I’m also scared to let people know what’s really going on with me. It has become a place where I CAN’T be myself. Not truly, not warts ‘n all.  (Metaphorical warts.)


People have a perception of what I’m like and I worry that if people knew more than I let on, I’d be judged, and not particularly fairly. So I smile and crack jokes.  Talk about dating and how fun being single is.  But here’s the thing … I am SO tired of life right now.  Dating is exhausting – dealing with emotionally retarded f*ckwits that don’t know their arse from their elbow, let alone know a good woman when they see one.  The house sale consists of people whining that “there’s too much work to do” on the house, when all it needs is a lick of paint.  Oh, and a new bathroom. My eldest is about to leave for uni and I’ll be driving down to his uni to say goodbye. With my ex husband.


It goes on and on. And on.


I also want to talk about something major that is happening in my life right now but (legally) I can’t.  This gives me nightmares. Isolates me. Makes me worry for the future and that of my children. Stops me sleeping. Unsettles me every minute of the day. Gives me constant indigestion. Tires me to the point of utter exhaustion and sometimes I don’t know how I put one foot in front of the other.


And yet I do.


The reason I don’t talk about all of this is because it’ll only take one person to be nice to me and I know I’ll crumble. That’s exactly what happened last night. An outpouring of affection from people I’ve never met reduced me to a blubbering mess.  The only person that was ever able to do that was my Mum. All she had to do was ask, “Are you OK?” knowing full well I wasn’t, and that was it – it would all come pouring out.  And now she’s not here and there’s no-one else to ask me that question.


And as quickly as last night’s wobble began, it finished.  Today is a new day and I’ll try again to be a little bit more open, a little bit warmer, a little bit nicer, a little bit like the person I used to be and one day, I may even be strong enough to tell everyone what’s really going on.


Everything will be OK in the end.  And if it’s not OK, it’s not the end.


Tell me I’m not the only one that feels like this.


kate sutton


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