This post deal with domestic violence, and could be triggering for some readers.
I am sorry that I only have the TV to keep my daughter company while I try to get basic tasks done like online grocery shopping.
I’m sorry that I can’t hold the shopping bags and her at the same time while she is crying for me to do so. It breaks my heart.
I’m sorry no one else can comfort her during the brief moments I need to go to the toilet.
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She stands there with tears rolling down her face while she waits. Because, just like any toddler she needs someone nearby to feel safe and secure. But I’m all she has at home. It has been that way since she was 18 months old.
First, we had to separate from her father as it was no longer a healthy environment for us to be in. I had to endure things I couldn’t bear her to see or hear anymore, like him throwing things at me in front of her.
We just started settling into this new family structure, just her and I, with me having 100 per cent care of her. Then a few months later, the pandemic hit.
And that was how we went through most of 2020 here in Melbourne, where we lived through one of the longest lockdowns in the world.
Unlike many who have support from their parents, I realised early on that the pandemic made my already difficult day to day life of managing everything on my own, even more relentless.
Little pleasures like outings I had relied on for reprieve from the single mother grind, were taken away.
Amidst the toilet paper panic buying frenzy, just as the news of the virus had just picked up, I came across a dilemma.
How can I get groceries? Who’s going to look after her so she can stay home away from any potential exposure to the virus? I had few alternatives. My mother is not well enough to take care of her, everyone is busy with their own families, and I don’t like to burden them.