and then?

a friend showed me a book her daughter got for christmas: it's a stack of cards with the beginning of a story that leaves off at a turning point with "...and then..."

that's what life feels like lately.

it's been a hard few years.

really hard.

now granted, i take full responsibility for most of the hard stuff- i made the choice to leave work (several jobs actually) and i've always struggled with keeping a balanced budget (easy on paper, not as much in practice). i made the choice to buy and work on a house which we all know hasn't been the best choice of all time. i've made the choice to stay single. i've made so many choices.

this weekend i made another choice.

and i'm really struggling with it.

it's been a hard few years.

in addition to everything else that's been going on, i've been dealing with escalating tension at home with the teenager. i know teenagers are hard, but i had no idea it would be like this.

i don't have what i think is a "normal" teenager. i have a kid who is wicked smart, has always acted more like an adult than a kid, who has always fought to express himself and stand up for himself.

it's not bad things. within reason. but it's not great either.

it's gotten bad.

there's constant arguments. there's been holes put into walls (okay, just one, but still). there's screaming and stomping out. there's slamming doors. i know. it's not that far out of the realm of teenage angst, but it's been increasingly viscous and increasingly dangerous.

it's been talking a hard toll on me, a hard toll on the younger spawn, and i can't believe the teenager has been exactly happy either.

the hard part is that there's been this disconnect- he's GREAT at school. he's getting good grades, his teachers love him, he's respectful, helpful, a model student. he's in debate, he tutors other kids, he has a GOOD group of friends.

then he comes home.

and it's ALL different.

it's constantly bullying and tearing down his little brother. it's being disrespectful and horrible to me. it's refusing to help around the house. it's emotional and physical warfare. it's a constant battle zone. it's vicious, mean, angry, hurtful. if he doesn't get his way, EVERYONE will know about it and be punished in some way.

simple things like shoving his brother for no reason other than being in reaching distance. telling me he hates seeing the same people every day and he's sick of family when asked to do the dishes. telling me i'm stupid for rearranging furniture. it's hitting his little brother for getting something out of the fridge (he's too fat, he doesn't need more food). getting caught in a lie and telling me i need to "just deal with it."

it's been escalating over the last year. it's dangerous. more than once i've had 911 dialed because i honestly thought he was going to come at me.

so i talked to his dad a few weeks ago and asked about switching houses to see if that would help calm things down.

and we decided it would be the best course of action.

so in 4 weeks my teenager will be leaving my home to live with his father.

and i don't know where i'm at with this.

i know it will be better for everyone. it will calm things here. it will make it better for my small spawn. it will make it better for me. i hope it will make it better for the teenager.

but my son is leaving.

and i know it was going to happen in a few years for college.

and i know i'm not a failure as a parent.

and i know it's not permanent and if it doesn't work he can come home. and there's summer break and long weekends and it's not that far away really.

but.

my son is leaving.

and i worry that he thinks i don't love him or i'm punishing him or giving up. and i worry that the little spawn worries i'll send him away if he becomes challenging. and i worry that it won't be better at his dads house but i won't be able to help (there will still be phone and email, but you know...HELP, right there in the moment).

and i'm heartbroken that i couldn't make this better. i couldn't be a good enough mom to make him not hate living here or not be so angry all the time.

and i worry that i didn't do enough. i didn't try enough things. i didn't research enough to find more solutions. i didn't MOM enough.

and i know that there's a reason there's supposed to be TWO parents. i know that it takes a village to raise kids because one person doesn't have all the answers.

but it still sucks.

it sucks that he's hurt and angry and i couldn't fix it.

it sucks that i'm losing one more part of my core.  there's not much left.

and i'm scared. and i'm sad. and i'm angry. and i'm hopeful. and i don't know.

i'm at this turning point in the story. and i'm waiting to see what happens.

so.

2014: "...and then?"

poor ms. fluffington

i have to laugh a little bit when people say i'm a force to be reckoned with. i am the exact opposite of a confrontational person. sure, i'll think of a MILLION thing to say, but i'll never actually say any of them. i can draft and rewrite and rehearse the most powerful, poignant, eloquent, point hitting speeches IN MY HEAD. 
when it comes to actually confronting people or problems however: i'm useless. completely, totally, silently USELESS. i cry when i get too emotional- angry, frustrated, scared, mad, hurt, you name it, start the fucking waterworks. and not in a "oh, look at me throwing a crying fit" kind of way, just in the "this is a physiological response i can't help" kind of way. it's so fucking annoying. is there a surgery to remove tear ducts? that would be great.

why do i bring this up? because there's a few changes i need to make in my life and i'm TERRIFIED to confront them. there's people i need to deal with, issues that have long since needed put to bed, shit going on that just needs to be done and over.

and i just. can't. do. it.

i'm immobilized by the if's, and's and but's of it. you want to know the worst that can happen? i have the top 100 reactions to every situation in my mind, and trust me, i've gone over them a million times each. yes, this is what it's like to live with a brain that will never shut off.

worst part is, most times i do bite the bullet and just get something over with- the reaction is similar to what's in my head on the worst end of things. NOT ALWAYS, but a few times is all it takes to be terrified of a repeat.

i know i could say it all here, in type. i know i could exactly lay out every bullet point in logical, perfect order in a way i could NEVER do in a conversation. so why don't i? because i'm a chicken. i'm afraid that maybe someone will read it and want to have a discussion about it. i'm afraid that it will seem passive aggressive and wishy washy. i'm afraid that if i let myself rely on text then i'll never learn to put on my big girl panties and deal with things head on.

but i've got this quite splendid track record of train wrecks to prove why it's usually better to just keep my trap shut. so. damned if i do, damned if i don't. instead i just sit here drafting speeches that will never gain voice in my head, letting them rattle around over and over, driving myself just a little more cerebrally insane each day. it's quite delightful. well, in the way that fresh squeezed lemon juice on a paper cut is. 

i need to learn somehow how to have discussions that don't end in nuclear explosion brawls. i need to learn how to state my point, and listen to the rebuttal without getting offended or defensive. i need to learn how to talk to people before i'm at the quitting line.

welcome to every break up i've ever been through- friend or lover. a million little things that if discussed could have been resolved, but i let them back build until it's one giant rush of FUCK YOU I'M DONE! and tact and manners and decorum go out the window, every issue comes pouring out in the most verbally hurtful way, the torches come out, and some bridges get fucking burned. 

instead of a simple "you know, i'm quite unhappy with the situation."

it's becomes: "YOU'RE A FUCKING ASSHAT AND I HATE EVERY LITTLE THING ABOUT YOU. i want to punch your mother in the vagina for giving birth to you. i want too build a delorian time machine and go back to nine months before you were born and slap your father in the face for even thinking about polluting your mother with his fuckwit juice. i want to feed your pet kitten ms. fluffington to a shark while you watch in horror. i want to tie you down and force feed you tofu while i eat a giant steak. i want to break ALL the chips in your brand new bag before you get any. YOU ASSHOLE."

so. i suppose that's another thing to add to the list of improvements for 2013. any ideas on how to practice?

the crazy fight (aka: he's too nice)

welcome to my crazy.

today, on as the word of general (psychiatric) hospital turns through the days of our lives:

the boyfriend and i had a fight last night. it ended with him storming out and staying at his house for the evening. and i haven’t talked to him yet today.

what was the fight about you ask?

he’s too damn supportive.

oh yeah, you read that right. in my crazy world, there’s such a thing as too damn supportive.

see. last night was a bad night for me. as in complete and total breakdown. CRACKERS.

i went to look at a car and test drive it and all that junk. i didn’t want to make a deal right away because i knew that a) you shouldn’t take the first offer, and b) i’m having a fucking hard time spending money that came from my dad dying. YES, i need a new car. mine is starting to make too many strange noises. YES, the money i spend will be for a good, reliable, long lasting vehicle. YES, it’s something my dad wanted to help me do before he died anyway. but DAMN, it’s hard people! and it’s my dad…and it’s this huge- there’s not even a word for it. its this gigantic mess of emotions on so many different levels.

so i tell the sales guy i need to go home and think it over for the night. so i get the kids in bed and the boyfriend goes to see his friends and it’s just me. and i sit down at the little table where i have my dad’s hat and badge and basically all that’s left of him and my brother- the little memorial table in my living room. and i sit down to talk to my dad about it. and i look at his picture. and i just lost it. it hit me SO HARD that he’s not coming back. i know i did the service, and spread the ashes, and i’ve talked about it. but sitting there, looking at his picture, knowing that’s the only way i could see him any more. it hit like a fucking mac truck running down a san francisco hill with no brakes. it just leveled me. and i’m bawling and falling apart really for the first time. i LET myself just feel it. i didn’t have to keep it together for the kids or the boyfriend or family or general people. i just let myself grieve. and be sad. and be angry. oddly enough, that’s the first time through all of this that i’ve just let myself completely go. and it all came out in one giant mess. and i’m crying so hard i’m sick and i’m snotting everywhere and it felt good. to get it all out. to let myself really be sad.

and i finally make it through a good mess of all that, pull myself together, drag my backside to bed, and the boyfriend comes home.

so. he sees me in bed, looking like a rabid raccoon. and he gets upset. he wants to know what’s wrong. he wants me to talk to him, he’s in my face and hugging me and staring at me and asking me every 30 seconds to talk to him. now. this might not sound too bad. nice guy, right? how can i be mad at him for being worried about/concerned about me?

well. i’m a freak. so. you know. there’s that. i don’t like big hugs. i’m an in and out type person. i don’t like being stared at. forever. i don’t like someone bugging me every 30 seconds to talk. TRUST: when i’m ready to talk you won’t be able to shut me up. bugging me like that is only going to piss me off. and i try to tell him- i can’t talk right now. i don’t have words. i’m just sad and i just want to be sad for a while. but that’s not good enough. and i’ve told him before that i don’t like people all up on me and all over me. it makes me feel claustrophobic like i’m suffocating. i don’t like the touching, it’s too much for me. i go on sensory overload. if i want touch, i’ll come to you. and when my little charge port is full, i’ll back off. is it selfish? is it all about me? right now, fuck yes it is. sorry. that’s just what’s going down right now.

but he gets all offended that i won’t talk to him and keep pushing him away. so i leave the bedroom, i go to the living room to be alone. i’m trying like hell to not explode and freak out on him. trying to keep it all to myself and contain the crazy a little. but he follows me. and keeps poking the bear.

-sigh-

i KNOW, i KNOW. he’s just worried and trying to help. and i know some women would kill for a man so attentive and worried. but jaysus fuck. BACK OFF. and it just keeps getting worse. and he keeps getting more offended. and IT’S NOT ABOUT HIM RIGHT NOW. it’s about me. and i’m worried about trying to keep my sanity together. i’m sorry he’s offended, but i’m not going to focus on that right now. and he decides to go pack his shit and leave for the night and storm out. and part of me wants to stop him and make him feel better, but fuck it, _I_ need to feel better first. I AM ALLOWED TO BE UPSET. and he kept telling me to calm down. WHY? i’ve been calming down since august 16th. i’ve been being nice. i’ve been keeping it together. I AM ALLOWED TO BE UPSET AND FALL APART. I AM ALLOWED TO FEEL MY PAIN AND EXPERIENCE IT. i’m allowed to be hurt and be angry. I DON’T HAVE TO CALM DOWN.

so. he packed up and stormed out without saying anything. and i felt like an ass not trying to stop him. but i also felt like it didn’t need to stop him. if he was offended, that’s not on me. those are HIS feelings, and i’m not responsible for them. i tried to tell him. i asked for my space. i asked to be left alone. i asked for him to stop sitting and staring at me like a fucking crazy animal in a zoo.

so. he left. and i watched an episode of dexter to calm down and fall asleep. cause nothing says sleep like watching a serial killer hunt serial killers. and i haven’t talked to him yet today. and i’m not sure i want to. and i know it would be silly to end something over him being too worried about me (there’s other issues too). but part of me is already out the door. and part of me knows there probably wasn’t a right thing for him to do when i was feeling like that, but of the not right things to do, he really did pick the worst option and run with it. or…you know…sit and stare at me with it.

so. you know. welcome to my crazy.

a chink in the armor

so. you know those serious things rolling in my brain that i mentioned last post? turns out they won’t go away, so here i am writing about it. you know what that mean…prepare for serious with only a small side of humor. ~sigh~ stupid serious thoughts. why can’t they just take a hike? oh wait…this is me…and NO part of me is even remotely interested in anything that has the word hike associated with it…so…yeah, guess that makes a little more sense. dang.

dear readers: i have a flaw. I KNOW! it was a shock to me too. i mean _ME_ the epitome of perfection. a flaw. ~gasp~ a chink in the armor. a weakness. an achilles heel. i’ll give you a moment to absorb this. it was earth shifting for me as well.

ok…so. i’ve learned a bad habit or behaviour over the years and i need to UNLEARN it. not so easy after 30 years. especially when i’m just now admitting to it. i’ve known it was there for a year or two, but i hoped it was something i wouldn’t have to learn how to deal with. but…as goes life…it happens to be in an area that you can’t really ignore. or i should say the ignoring is half the problem.

so what is this tragic flaw? i have no conflict resolution abilities. as in NONE. as in the mere idea of talking about a problem sends me into a PANIC. having a serious discussion with someone TERRIFIES me. pee my pants, curled in fetal position in the corner, sucking my thumb, humming to myself TERRIFIED. throw up nervous. snakes on a plane FREAKING OUT.

i know. ME. of all people. the loud mouth, bitter, sarcastic bitch of all bitches. scared of an argument. of a discussion. of talking about ANYTHING that bothers me.

“but you’re doing it right now” you might think. well…yeah…BUT YOU CAN’T TALK BACK. sure, you might comment, you might mention something LATER, but right now in my little bloggers bubble it’s safe. see…this is a learned behaviour. and it goes WAY back. growing up we never talked about anything, let alone ARGUE. that was just something that was never done. my folks split before i knew what was going on, so i missed the battles there. and then when my mom remarried they NEVER, EVER let us see their problems. partially because my mom is 90% ostrich and will never admit that there ever have been even a hint of problems, and partially because the other 10% of her thought it would be damaging to us kids to see that. GUESS WHAT: ~shock~ i disagree. i believe it’s VERY HEALTHY for kids to see arguments between adults but even more than that SEE HOW THEY WORK IT OUT. so that way they know that not every discussion is the end of the world. things can be a huge problem, but it can be worked through. see that even if people get upset, or can’t agree, or have an all out battle it can be fixed and over come and it doesn’t always have to be an ugly, abusive, hurtful train wreck. it’s in the combination of the two words: conflict AND RESOLUTION. there’s going to be conflict at some point in life. GUA.RAN.TEED. it’s the RESOLUTION part of it that people need to learn/teach. and i have NO CLUE.

after growing up with my mom in the no conflict world, my oldest sons dad and i had a *ahem* few problems. we were 17 and pregnant. we had NO CLUE about life. there were some EPIC battles. hard core, all out BATTLES. and i usually ended up in tears (hormones…i totally blame the hormones) and nothing was ever resolved or worked through. after home, and baby daddy, i moved on to a horrible marriage. in my marriage i not only learned that i can’t talk about things that bother me, i can’t talk about ANYTHING. no opinions, no thoughts, nothing that wasn’t pre-approved. hell…the most epic/memorable battle was over green beans in the tater tot casserole. it turned into a SCREAMING fit of terror (him at me) to where i ended up in tears, on the kitchen floor, in emotional shreds. OVER GREEN BEANS PEOPLE.

so this has turned into me: unable to talk. try wrapping your head around that. ME: NOT TALKING.

i have things that bother me. i have things to talk about. things i NEED to talk about. they all start out as things that WOULD BE small issues, but i stuff them deep down and ignore them until i can’t stuff anymore and then there’s this huge earth ending explosion. and let me just say: not the best results. theyre small things would have been easy to work through and get over. but because i’m TERRIFIED of how it will go, i’m TERRIFIED of being torn down, i’m TERRIFIED of being walked away from…i just can’t do it. i can’t talk. and to me, it’s a very real fear: even in the last few years- the times i’ve tried to overcome this i’ve been gut kicked, torn to shreds and walked away from for MONTHS by close friends. sure, things usually (not always) cool off and come back around, but if this happens even over the little things…how on earth could i ever talk about something BIG? and so i don’t. i just push it all away to a back, dark, quiet corner and HOPE that it never reaches that boiling point. and it’s NOT healthy, by any stretch of the imagination.

and i know part of it is a shift in thinking for me: these can be discussions, not arguments, not battles. but history has taught me there are no discussions, ONLY arguments. and how do you unlearn that? you need someone you can argue in a healthy way with. someone you can DISCUSS with and not have it turn into a death cage match. and i haven’t found someone like that yet. friend, partner, family…anywhere. i have people that like to tell me i’m wrong for what i’m feeling. i have people that tell me what i can say and how i can say it. i have people that only want to say their side. i have people that laugh at my side.

why did this all come up? well: two reasons. there are a few parts of my life that i can feel reaching that boiling point again. and i’m TERRIFIED of when that will happen. if i can’t find another way to deal with it…i’m scared of losing people. also: i know that i never learned the right way which means i won’t be able to teach the right way. my kids are getting old enough and we’re starting to have different opinions and voices at my house- i need to learn SOON so i can show the HEALTHY and GOOD way to work through things. i don’t want them to go through life with this feeling of having no voice or being scared to say what they feel/think. i want them to know they can come to me and it might get ugly depending on the topic, but we WILL find an answer, and we WILL make it out the other side TOGETHER.

~sigh~

i’m done now. anyone wanna fight?