I think it is funny when people comment on my parenting either positively or negatively when they have never met my children. I mean, someone saying “I would like to have a parent who did that” or “I would never do that to my kids” is fair enough when I’m giving a tiny slice of a moment.

My children have woken up to morning snuggles just about every day of their lives. We talk all day long. They go to steady classes and have habitual events they can count on. The fact that I have erratic feelings while they go through this life process is not something I can fix. 35 years of therapy hasn’t cured me from being a highly traumatised person. I am pretty sure nothing will ever do so.

This is a lot of why I talk about my feelings and make it clear that I am having a feeling and it isn’t the fault of anyone in the room. I am reacting to ghosts and I’m really sorry you have to be in the room while I do.

This is why having a parent with mental illness is an ACE point. Even though by any reasonable measure I am doing fantastic for someone with a history like mine I am not as consistent as an untraumatised person. Fact. More than one person has told me to my face that someone like me should not have had children and since I was stupid enough to breed my children should be removed from my care. Lots of people feel that if you have already been abused, all you deserve is abuse going forward. It’s part of prosperity gospel crap.

Thing is, my kids are from two genetic lines with PTSD and severe trauma running all over the place. They have a serious handicap when it comes to being “normal” from the get go. That is 100% my fault and I accept that blame. I knew my genetics were messed up and I chose to make children with the ego-tastic belief that maybe someone in my line could have a happy childhood and grow up ok.

This has been a scary thing for me in many ways. When I was a child I was told constantly that abused children are the most loyal. What if I don’t want to abuse my children? Does that mean they will feel no loyalty to me? It’s been a terrifying commitment to keep. I have pursued it with blind belief and access to an unholy amount of privilege.

Why do I believe my children haven’t been seriously abused? My justifications are irrelevant. I’m not saying my children have never experienced abuse in or out of my house. It has never been a consistent part of their relationship with their parents because that shit doesn’t fly.

I was annoyed yesterday. I expressed my annoyance at the person whose forgetfulness was the reason I had to walk an extra 3 miles. Cheeky little bugger grinned and said, “Well it’s a good thing that you already promised to forgive me for everything I ever do wrong. I’ve got this one in the bank.”

Yeah. My erratic behaviour is totally fucking them up. Right.

Those of you who read my writing see far more erratic shit than my kids do. My kids see me walk around crying. They don’t know what I’m thinking. They do know that I have a lot of good reasons to cry. They hold my hand and lean on me. They give me the comfort of their presence.

It’s not that I’m never snippy but it’s worthy of comment when it happens.

I start every day with a smile and a kiss and “I am so glad to see you again.” It’s not that we never have rough days but we all feel wanted in this family. This year someone suggested that Middle Child might feel like the black sheep of the family. My baby refuted this assertion with laughter. They feel like they have a lot in common with me and with their siblings.

They used different words but basically, they feel like a chip off the old block. They are deeply aware of how much we all have in common. We talk about it with joy and occasional “bummer, sorry you got that one.” We discuss strategies we use and we compare notes about how to refine them. We have a shared language to discuss the ways we are similar. They had a similar experience with their dad. We would collectively marvel about genetics and luck of the draw.

The thing that binds us is this deep awareness of how connected we are. I have stressed from early on, “You are only mine to care for during a short period in your life. It is my responsibility to help get you ready for being an adult. Sometimes you won’t like me. That’s ok. We get to have all the feelings here.”

I love how deeply entitled these people are to being seen. I don’t think they demand it out in the world in the way we do at home. That’s why we talk about strategies so often. You can’t talk about stuff plainly with our home vocabulary out in the world. People will get very upset. People do not consent to being observed. It’s an interesting thing to navigate.

It is sitting on me harder and harder that I have no one to share my children with. It means I’m talking to my mother in law more because it feels like she is the only person who wants to hear about them. I miss having someone who wanted to talk about them for hours and hours with me. It’s harder to know if I’m doing anything right.