I’m sorry Sweden
Someone from Sweden reads my blog regularly. I know this because you can see what countries the people are from who read your posts, which is pretty cool. When I see Sweden in there I feel a bit funny (not haha funny, funny weird) so this post is for you Sweden.
I have only really known one Swedish person in my life (the other Swedish person was very nice but was connected to the original one, which meant that I found it hard to let her be the reason to forgo my doubts about Sweden). After my experience with (the original) her I may have thrown the (Swedish) baby out with the (Swedish) bathwater, which is very disappointing. And for that I am sorry Sweden.
I never liked cool drink, so the fact that she had a stupid (unforgettable) name didn’t mean I had to stop drinking cola, but I will be honest and say I haven’t been to Ikea since. Which is ridiculous.
If the person from Sweden reading my blog is her Mum, I want to say I’m sorry I was unable to be a better house-mum and protect her crazy-ass from my ex who must have pursued her crazy-ass relentlessly. I have no doubt she had a part in it, but if it was anyone other than him I wouldn’t feel as responsible. As the mother of a 19 year old I know that they often need love and guidance, and although I believe I gave her that, it may have been misinterpreted.
If the person from Sweden reading this is her sister, let it be known that I really thought you were cool and I hope you didn’t believe everything she said about me. I think it was to make herself feel better about the situation she found herself in, but I am only presuming.
If the person from Sweden reading my blog is unrelated to the girl with a name like cola, I’m sorry for being so anti-Sweden, perhaps one day I will stop and get on with my own great life and one day desire to visit your country and imagine it is not full of people like the one Swedish person I (thought I) knew.
And now, here’s what I want to say you, girl with the name like cola. I am glad that you got away from him. You are 19 and I am 41 and what that whole thing did to me was almost too much at 40. I am old enough to be your mother (which by default means he was old enough to be your father, vomit) and as the mother of someone who is only 6 months younger than you (vomit) I had so many things I wanted to say to you when I realised what had happened. They were mostly like WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU/HIM? but once I stopped freaking out they were this:
- Can you not see that a man capable of doing what he did is not a good man to pin your future on? Probably not at 19. I may not have been able to see that at 19. But if you want more for yourself and your life then hopefully you have realised that by now.
- Do you not know the sister rule? It’s not actually the sister rule, but the rule of womanhood – the sisterhood of women who love and protect each other. Do you not know how badly you spat in the face of the sisterhood by your actions? That is the bit you are responsible for. The bit where I have no doubt he relentlessly pursued you (because remember, this is how he got me) is his, and that bit will forever carve out the path of his future. I hope at 19 you find a way to change the path that carves out in front of you, because it has so long to go and it could be amazing. It may seem strange that I would want that for you, but I do. My own daughter is only 6 months younger than you and the possibilities for her make me so excited. I do not want you to have a shitty life. But you must stop doing shitty things.
- He didn’t change. Not after that. Don’t ask me how I know this or what I know, but I do, and I wanted to tell you so you would know too. I don’t think it matters now.
I thought, oh how I thought, I had let go of this and all the things it meant (the things I made it mean), until I saw the one person from Sweden keeps reading my blog. When we first saw your profile on Au Pair World he said “oh no, not her, she’s too pretty”, and I laughed because I was not insecure about having pretty girls in my house (we’d had them before and my oldest daughter is one of the prettiest). Also (I am sorry Sweden) I actually don’t think that weird no-eyebrows, wispy hair, orange skin, fish face pout look is pretty (but I am a women and obviously BLIND!) I am sorry I did not listen, and somehow you got mixed up in the mess that was the end of us. And then I am forever grateful that you did because it was the one thing that meant there was no going back ever. You were like the sacrificial lamb, but I promise you I had no idea that it was possible. I hear you have found your way free of him, and for that I am glad (a lot gladder than I thought I would be back when I thought I didn’t care about any of it). You two could make me famous yet, it’s such a great story. Such a cliché. Such middle-class suburban trash style. Gold really.
So here’s what I’m doing, just getting this all out so that I’ve been completely honest with Sweden about my poor feelings. Isn’t it funny how long things can bang around in there never quite being unresolved? This is me resolving.
I still don’t want to go to Sweden but perhaps I’ll go to Ikea again this year. I have managed to get a new au pair and a new boyfriend and all that is going great. I will probably never get another Swedish au pair or a 19 year old Swedish boyfriend. That’s probably going a bit far. I’m sorry about that Sweden.