Something new happened yesterday. A bad something new. I went to a baby play group in a local church. We’ve been a few times before and really enjoyed it. Iris feels confident there so, as long as she can see me, she plays on the floor. I get to drink coffee without a kid in my lap and chat to other parents.
Usually I keep my handbag with me at all times. I’m very concious of my valuables and keep an eye on them. Yesterday I just left my stuff on the pushchair. I just didn’t think. It was stupid.
After the group I intended to take Iris for lunch, but I opened my purse in a charity shop to find all of my cash gone. It can only have happened at the baby group.
I’m very glad my bus ticket home was still there.
I cancelled lunch with the friends we were meeting and called Trev feeling very upset.
I’m new here. That group has become one of my safe places. I shouldn’t have left my stuff on the pushchair, I know, but I wouldn’t for a minute have predicted that would happen.
It’s opened a whole can of worms.
I have a completely irrational need to be home. Not here. My HOME. Which is silly because home is Bristol, and these kinds of things happen far more often there. Still. I have more safe places there. More friends there.
It’s also, oddly, made me worry once more about my finances. It wasn’t my money, really. I don’t have any money. I don’t have a job that pays. Iris doesn’t pay me. It’s all Trev’s money and I hate that. I don’t hate that financially he’s able to support us. I’m incredibly grateful that I am able to stay at home and look after our kid. I can’t imagine dropping her off and going to work. I’m so not ready for that.
I hate that if I want to take Iris for lunch I have to ask for some money. If I need new shoes I have to get them on somebody else’s card. If I just feel like hopping on a train and visiting friends I have to ask. Of course I actually CAN do all of those things because, as Trev repeatedly says, it’s OUR money now. It doesn’t feel like that though.
I have always worked. Since I left school. Even when I was studying. I’ve always had cash that is mine. Never very much of it, but enough. After every relationship break up I’ve managed to figure it out and look after myself.
If Trev ever boots me out I’m screwed.
The thing I hate most is that when a stranger puts their hand in my purse and steals from me my first feeling, my overwhelming feeling, is guilt. Guilt that I let somebody steal money that I didn’t earn. That wasn’t even mine.
Perhaps it’s time I got a job.