Annus Horribilus.

29th December 2008. The first day of my Annus Horribilus. A year ago I had a nasty fight with the awful orphan. On my way downstairs to my kitchen, I heard my son arguing with the awful orphan. My husband was there trying to calm them down; he wasn't having much luck. I was confident I would be able to calm them down. I failed miserably. The awful orphan managed to wind me up big time. In my defence he is the master of winding up people. He could win a gold medal by a mile if it was an olympic sport; no contest. So we had words. At one point I told him he used to upset his mum the way he was upsetting me. His mum had passed away in May 2004. I knew it was a low blow and I said as much. So he came back with, "we all know what you did to my mother". An equally low blow if not more so. He was talking about things that had happened in 1977 - over 6 years before he was born. Ancient history.

I would have had some respect for him if he had ever bought up the subject while his mother had been alive. He'd had 21 years to speak up. Or if he had spoken up while his father was alive. He'd had 27 years to by the time his father died. So I was livid to say the least.

I know what had happened, my sister knew what had happened. She was dead, so if I was going to rake up old ground, she couldn't defend herself. So that wasn't right. Even if her husband had been alive I could have grabbed the awful orphan by the ear, dragged him accross the road to his father's house and asked him to sort his son out. I would have been willing to go over old ground in his father's presence, because his father had a pretty good idea of what I had suppossedly done to my sister.

So I asked him to enlighten me as to what I had supposedly done to his mother. I was goading him. I was angry, hurt, frustrated and some. I was ready for a fight. The gloves were off. I was saying - come on give it your best shot, lets see what you've got because I'm going to knock you out with what I have for you.

But luckily the awful orphan left my house with more shouting and abuse being directed at him and he gave as good as he got. I'm glad he went, as things would have got out of hand otherwise.

As the day went on I felt more and more depressed. It was all sinking in. The things that had been said; why had they been said; what would be the repercussions? I felt very sad and angry and hurt. I wanted to go over the road to the awful orphan and squeeze the life out of him. I wanted him to be sorry for what he had said to me. As the hours ticked by I got worse and worse. I spoke to my husband about it; I shouted a lot rather than spoke. I was trying to work out what had happened and why. It was a horrible, awful day.

The night was worse. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't read. All I could do was hear the things that had been said in my kitchen earlier in the day. The words and images going round and round in my head constantly. I wanted to go over to the awful orphan's house, bash the door down and give him a piece of my mind. I didn't do that, it was the middle of the night. I did write him a text message. It said "You disgraced your Mother and Father earlier. You broke my heart. I hope it was worth it." It was 1.20am. I still have the text on my phone a year later to the day. I never sent the text.

I got up some time the next day. I hadn't slept even 5 minutes during the whole night. I felt rotten, listless, jetlagged and depressed. I couldn't understand why he would come out with these accusations that were nothing to do with him. What was he harbouring towards me all this time? All the years he had known me. Everything I had done for him. Maybe he had had these feelings all his life. Maybe I didn't know him at all. I had so many questions going round and round in my head. He had been treated like my own son by me; better than my own son. I had done things for him that I hadn't done for my own children. Had he been laughing at me all the time? Using me all these years? Making me think he loved and respected me. Maybe.

It's a year later to the day. I'm still affected by what happened that day. Nothing has ever been spoken of it again, by either of us. Nothing has been resolved. It's been left to fester. It's 1.05am and I'm writing about that horrid day. It seems as if it were yesterday. I hope the awful orphan reads this one day so he can understand what he did to me. This is the first time I have documented it all. This is my story, my history.