I close my eyes... and press publish.

A few weeks ago I took off my wedding ring and engagement ring and put them away. The indent in my finger took a few days to wear off - I've worn them for 12 years so I guess it does take time. I've removed my married name from social media - all of my work and social contacts are in that name, so it's not like I can just change it overnight in every walk of life. A few people have been in touch to ask if this was a significant thing and to commiserate when I have told them.

Friends have been amazing - they have been there in person, by phone, by message and at every turn have told me that this is not my fault. I did not make this happen by being unwell, or angry or not attractive enough. I did not drive away someone who lied, cheated and betrayed me and my family. This is squarely at their feet, not mine. It is impossible, however, to feel entirely free of responsibility. After all if I wasn't such a horrible person why would it have happened ? Did I not care enough ? Am I not kind enough ? Was I not pretty enough ? Did I not do enough ? What is enough ?

I've been scared that I'd lose friends and loved ones by being so messed up for so long. I tried to apologise and save a relationship with someone I love very much. This person has borne the brunt of my unhappiness for a long time, so I spoke from the heart and bared my soul. Nope - it cut no ice. I was unceremoniously ditched. What was I expecting ? Well, a chance to explain. To say that this isn't me. It's the situation I'm in. Still, I guess ripping off the plaster has to be the way to do it.

You know how I've been talking about anxiety and depression for so long ? How I wasn't entirely sure why I was so ungrateful as to be unhappy when I have so much to be thankful for ? Turns out that my instincts that something wasn't quite right were spot on. There was something afoot and it was not good. In fact the thing I suspected wouldn't have been nearly as bad. Then on top of my world being turned inside out I had to deal with other people's reactions. The disbelief. The horror. Then I have to comfort the person I've just told.

Sleep is a distant memory now - punctuated by failure dreams and wakefulness. Not even the useful kind where you can rage clean or write novels, but the useless self-loathing kind. Looking at the clock is self-defeating so I don't do it. The cat pins me to the bed to stop me from roaming around, which is odd considering he walks over my face to wake me up in the morning when I do finally drop off. He has never done that before so I'm not sure why he's doing it now.

Brown Bear is also having bad dreams - of our family breaking up and how sad that will be. Blue Bear is being cheerful to the point of suspicion during the day. I know this isn't entirely his real self as he's screaming in anxiety at night. Like he did when he first came to live with us. This is hurting all of us so much. Well, not all of us clearly. I mean the person whose behaviour has caused all of this seems to have little self awareness that their poor choices have had so much impact.

It wasn't like I was supposed to know. I found out and have had to deal with whatever has unravelled since then. And oh so much has come to light. Each week something new and more horrific than the last. Like a massive spike filled ball of wool slowly rolling along leaving blood and scars and pain. That's all I am right now. Pain. Anger. Confusion. Anxiety. Self-loathing. Oh and I've still been parenting and working. Mostly with a smile on my face and acting like it's all fine.

So please don't ask if I'm ok. I'm not. I will be. This is what is happening right now and it sucks, but it won't be forever.

I have other rings I can wear.

My family is not the same as yours - and that's just fine.

I've been taking a post adoption course to support my boys with anger issues that have surfaced over time. It's a preventative measure for me as the boys are still young and I want to be able to circumvent any potential issues as Blue Bear grows and as Brown Bear introduces more rough play and dares into their games. During the course I've heard other adopters and trainers use the phrase, 'our children.' It's not a term I have ever used, but now I have spent time talking to others and sharing our experiences I do feel part of a wider 'family.' I realise all our children are different, but what we feel and witness and live with is alarmingly similar. Separation anxiety, trauma, unknown fears and unexplained emotional responses.

For example: when Blue Bear came to us we had no idea that he was afraid of the dark until we took him to watch the Sooty show at the theatre and as soon as the lights went down he went into meltdown. The first night when he kept crying we put it down to missing his foster carers and being in an unfamiliar bed / home / place. More than two years later we have worked out that when he cries out he has to know someone is there and that he is not alone. His early neglect still surfaces as a fear that he is going to be left and no one will come if he calls out. We have moved on, but he still shouts out and while we can soothe him with a reassuring touch or word we don't know if he will ever truly believe that we will always be here for him.

When the boys fuss and fight with each other other parents (non adopters) try to rationalise it and say, "well all children do that." I spoke to someone the other day about how difficult it was in the beginning before they were used to living together. She said, "well it would have been like that if you'd had another baby anyway." No it wouldn't. For a start Blue Bear wasn't a baby when he came to live with us. He was a walking, moving, shouting, not sleeping, taking toys and fighting for attention toddler. Secondly having a baby is nothing like adopting a child because I would hope that your baby hasn't come to you following abuse, neglect or trauma. Your child has probably had a secure attachment to parents from birth onwards and not had to undergo a separation - or even more than one before they came into your family.

No one means to be unhelpful or thoughtless. I honestly think that. However, when I try to explain why I am going on a course to help support my raising these boys I know they are wondering why I need to keep seeking help with what I can only imagine comes naturally to them. Well, again I can try and explain. In the training course I attended today the trainer referred to self care as being an essential in helping adopters to parent effectively. She talked about how much trauma we carry around. The trauma that our children have experienced, the trauma of being neglected, abused, taken from birth family, of being moved on from foster care, of joining a new family. None of this even begins to touch the trauma we carry of our own. The trauma from our own childhoods, our experience of childlessness, of loss (miscarriage, failed IVF, etc.)

So as well as managing the children in our care we have our own stuff to deal with. I've heard adopters refer to experiencing post traumatic stress disorder and I can sort of understand this. For the whole of the first year that Blue Bear and Brown Bear were living together I was permanently in fight or flight mode. It was a constant battle to keep myself together as they argued, fought, demanded attention from me and cried, shouted, screamed. I still feel so broken by it that even though they now get on so much better I find myself going straight to that level of high alert at the slightest provocation.

I'm not suggesting for a moment that what we feel as adopters is on a par with what our kids have gone through. What I am saying is that comparing my children with yours is neither accurate nor helpful. I have no idea what it's like to have your family and you don't know what it's like to have mine. I'm doing my best and I'm sure you are too.