steadfast

i've spent my whole life hating myself.

there's these horrible, destructive voices stuck in my head that are so loud it's hard to hear anything else.

i've taken on blame and hate and negativity from other people for SO LONG, that it just...it became who i was. i believed them. in my journals, as far back as you look, there's been the common theme: "what's wrong with me?" and "why am i so broken?" i believed i deserved to be treated terribly. OF COURSE i was sexually assaulted as a teenager. OF COURSE i was raped as an adult. OF COURSE i was in a domestic violence marriage. OF COURSE i can't find a relationship. i deserved it all. i'm this horrible piece of trash, broken person. i was born a mistake and deserve every terrible thing since then.

BUT. HERE'S THE THING: THAT'S NOT TRUE.

i'm not a horrible person. i'm not a piece of trash. i'm not broken.

i AM a little weird. i'll own that one.

it's taken YEARS, to start to shift that conversation in my mind and stop listening to those voices. i'm still working on it EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. 

it's fucking hard work. really, really hard work.

but here's the bitch of it all: because i've thought of myself that way for so long, because i've believed the crap, because i believed all the HORRIBLE things, i kept allowing new people to treat me that way. why wouldn't they? and i've learned to distrust people that DON'T treat me that way. if anyone actually liked me, treated me kindly, maybe even loved me...there must be something wrong with them.

here's the really big bitch of all that: because i thought about myself that way, i let my kids think about me that way. I TAUGHT THEM to think of me that way. it's ok to make fun of mom being single. it's ok to say horrible things about mom. it's ok to yell insults and abuse. other people do, and she doesn't stop them. it's ok to just walk all over her, she won't stand up against it.

I TAUGHT MY KIDS TO HATE ME.

because i hated myself for so long.

that's a hard fucking pill to swallow.

and i'm not saying this out of self pity. i'm not saying this as yet another way to hate and blame myself. i'm saying this because if you want to change where you are, you have to acknowledge how you got there.

and i want to change. i NEED to change. 

especially when i'm staring at the results of all the hate every. single. day.

last year when i quit my job i started working on myself.

i left that job because i was tired of listening to people talk trash about me. i was tired of being groped while i sat at my desk. i was tired of listening to people openly bash everything about me: single parents, LGBT, tattoos, educated, nothing was off limits.

i started realizing i'm worth something. i'm worth standing up for. i'm worth liking.

in a strange way, i realized how insulting it was to people that i love and trust that i INSISTED on hating myself. how little do i think of my friends? do i really think they would keep a piece of trash friend around? a few of them even said as much to me: "it's really insulting that you believe i have such poor taste in people."

yes, i know that's a backwards way of looking at things, but hey, it got my attention.

and so i started changing. i started working on it. i started allowing myself a little more space to be MYSELF. to LIKE myself. i started just BEING. and, oddly, no one really seemed to care. they didn't leave in droves. i wasn't burned at the stake. if anything, the more real i allow myself to be with other people, the more real they become with me, and the deeper and truer the connections.

it's pretty sad that it took me 38 years to really, truly grasp this concept. BUT I'M WORKING ON IT. i've tried over the years. i've flirted with the idea of changing my mindset. i've worked on it over and over. i've taken classes, i've read countless books, i've tried so many different things. but when you're just dealing with symptoms instead of getting to the CORE of the issue, it never sticks.

here's the core: I'M A GOOD PERSON. i finally believe that.

i like me. i help others as much as i can. i will do everything in my power to help a friend that asks. i want to leave this world a better place than i came into it. i'm self aware. i'm intelligent. i'm thoughtful. i'm learning to ask for help. i have a decent sense of humor, maybe a little dark at times, but there it is. i have a lovely, comfortable home that's open to anyone. i've always been able to make home wherever we were. i'm a hard worker. i'm a good employee. i'm good at my jobs. i'm analytical and thorough. i'm willing to admit when i'm wrong and always looking for ways to be better. i'm careful and intentional about the choices i make. i'm dependable. i'm responsible. i'm honest, maybe a little too much.

BUT.

that's all new. being able to write that paragraph AND BELIEVE IT is completely new to me.

it still feels like bragging. it still feels like pride. it still feels conceited and wrong.

and it's still hard to believe it all the time.

so.

as hard as it is for me to change and believe it...as a person that ACTIVELY, PASSIONATELY wants to believe it and change...

how much harder is it for a fifteen year old kid that just wants things to be the way they've always been?

i'm sure there's other things going on- hormones, self discovery, struggle to become an adult, friends, girls, school, peer pressure...all the teenage things.

but at the core, at the true core of this issue is a fifteen year old kid that learned hate. he learned abuse. he learned to be mean and insulting and bully and take what he wants. I TAUGHT HIM THAT. and now i'm trying to change it and he has no stake or interest in that change.

so it's HARD.

suddenly mom isn't a push over any more.

no one wants to hear no. especially a teenager.

he's been saying for months: "i just want things back the way they were," and "it's so toxic around here and i hate it."

he doesn't realize the toxic atmosphere is because i've stopped absorbing all the toxicity. i've stopped taking on all the insults and the hate, so they just....hang there. they've run into a wall of: YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME THAT WAY.

that's new. that's different. so. YEAH, it feels crappy around the house when what always worked doesn't work anymore.

and then you have to try something bigger.

oh, just being mean and saying horrible things doesn't work anymore. let's try getting in her face and pushing. ok. that didn't work. let's try threats. oh, that didn't work, let's try skipping school. oh, that didn't work, let's try self harm and accusations. oh, that didn't work, let's try drugs and alcohol. that didn't work. let's try calling the cops...

and on and on it's gone. the escalation just keeps jumping and jumping because he's not getting his way. i'm not giving in. i'm not letting him walk all over me any more. and it's turned into a MASSIVE crisis. it's ugly and hard and scary and i don't know what's going to happen. i don't know where he slept last night. i don't know if he's safe or has clean underwear. i don't know if he's scared or hurt.

but i DO know he's still angry. i DO know he still thinks he can bully everyone into getting his way.

he thinks he can snap his fingers and the police will do as he commands. he thinks he can lie and get away with things. he thinks he can push around commissioners, lawyers, teachers, counselors. he thinks he can do what he wants, all day, every day, with no consequences. if anyone stands up to him, he will hurl all the abuse and hate at them he can. he will threaten others and even himself.

but if you want to live in my house, you need to treat people with respect. you need to contribute to the house. you need to contribute to your future. go to school. come home at the end of the day. be respectful of friends, ESPECIALLY GIRLS. don't steal. don't lie. don't threaten.

DON'T ABUSE.

i'm standing up and saying _I_ don't deserve to be treated this way. NO ONE does. and that's a fucking HARD, HARD change.

but it's necessary.

a friend just posted an article about a man that killed his wife and then took his own life just days after being arrested for assaulting a female taxi driver.

he thought he could just take what he wanted. when someone stood up to him, when someone called him on his terrible behavior, it escalated.

i don't know the full story, i didn't live his life. but i can bet that this wasn't the first time he treated someone this way. i can bet that if he was bold enough to treat a perfect stranger the way he did, his wife was getting 100 times worse at home. i can bet that there's a LIST of people that saw his behavior. i can bet that there's old girlfriends that aren't shocked by this news.

because i've been there.

i'm there now.

it has to change.

 

since this all started with the teenager, several months ago, there's been one word that comes to mind over and over and over and over: steadfast.

it's a calm word. it's a fierce word. determined. strong.



it's not an active word. i'm not flying into battle. i'm not raging.

i'm standing my ground. calmly. patiently.

i'm saying THIS NEEDS TO CHANGE.

i'm saying THIS IS NO LONGER THE WAY IT WILL BE.

i have to stand my ground.

i have to teach my son.

i have to teach him that he can't bully and hate his way into what he wants. i have to teach him behaviors and actions have consequences. if i let him treat me this way, the cycle will continue. there will be another person out there thinking about themselves the way i've been thinking about myself, and i wouldn't wish that on ANYONE. my heart breaks at the idea of another young woman facing YEARS of thinking she deserves to be treated this way. i know the dark, destructive, terrible self hate. i know it well. i don't want anyone else to feel this. ever. it absolutely guts me to think of him being mean and hurtful to a partner, a spouse, maybe his own children in the future. it crushes me to think he'll treat a boss, a roommate, a coworker the way he's been treating people now. i hate seeing how hard it is on his friends, his grandparents, all the people trying to help him now.

I HAVE TO BREAK THE CYCLE.

i have to.

i can't let this continue for generations to come.

I HAVE TO STOP THE HATE.

i have to.

i didn't teach him hate in a day.

it may take a long time to teach him a new way.

but i am to the task.

i will break this cycle. i will stop the hate. i will stop the hurt. i will teach him a better way.

on being excommunicated...

i don't remember becoming catholic. or joining a cult. i haven't had any koolaid of any kind recently, nor have i sacrificed any black cats at midnight.

i have however managed to be excommunicated.

so. there's that.

a little over a week ago, at the seven week mark since the teenager moved, it officially happened.

the small spawn called the big spawn to tell him about his new bike, chat in general, and he asked if the big spawn wanted to talk to me.

"NOPE."

i knew it was coming. i know there's so much anger and emotion and teenage angst and pure hate. i've been expecting it. but to actually hear it...

OUCH.

you know?

and i did something that i rarely do: I LET MYSELF FEEL IT.

i didn't stuff it down. i didn't distract myself. i just...let it hit. and i cried. holy shit did i cry. snotting all over the place, kleenex in a pile on the coffee table. i went in to make dinner and just stood over the stove crying.

it hurt. and i let it.

the worst part though, was the small spawn. apparently watching mom have feelings, a LOT of feelings, is unsettling.

i tried to reassure him through the snot and tears- it's OK. i held it in for seven weeks. it was bound to come out. i just need to purge it all out and get back to rights.

but seeing mom sad is hard for his tender little heart, so he tried to make it better.

he tried to text his big brother:

"do you hate mom?"

i know he SO DESPERATELY just wanted to see that "no" come back. he wanted to be able to show me a text that it wasn't true. the big spawn isn't so angry, he doesn't hate me.

instead he got back "what's it to you?" and "don't be such an asshole."

totally uncalled for and even more hurtful to a little brother who still doesn't really understand what all happened and was just trying to make things right.

and then i REALLY fell apart. i expected the anger towards me. i didn't expect him to take it out on anyone and everyone in the general range of fire.

i cried. i hurt. i let myself totally fall apart. i snotted and sobbed until 4 in the morning when i finally fell asleep. i called in to work the next day- something i NEVER do and took the time i needed to put myself back together. a friend came over for lunch and let me talk it out. i cleaned house and purged the rest of the emotions while i purged the piles of clutter that had built up.

maybe it's just me, but depression is half emotional and half environmental- neglecting my feelings tends to go hand in hand with neglecting my house. purging both and getting them both in order was a tremendous boost.

i had posts of encouragement from friends, even a bright delivery of flowers from across the state to show support.

and here i am a week later.

it still hurts.

i know i'm missing out on his first season of track. i'm missing out on his new school and new experiences and new friends.

i know it will take a LONG time for him to work through all his hurt and hate and anger- and then only if he chooses to.

i knew it would be hard going in. i expected something like this- i just didn't know what.

one of the side effects of all this is that it's made me rethink a few of my relationships- mostly with my own mum.

as much as i hurt going through all this, i'm sure she's felt similar feelings.

it made me really evaluate the decisions i've made- have i been too harsh? have i been intentionally hurtful and hateful?

end of the day i still stand by my decisions, even going through something as painful myself.

a change of perspective, yes. a change in results, no. but it's good to re-evaluate. it's good to question. 

i'll deny it if you tell people, but it's good to let yourself have all the feelings. they don't just have to be stuffed away and moved past without a second thought.

things are settling down around home now with just the two of us. it's still strange, but it is what it is.

i really hope some day i'll be back on the good list. but until then, it's ok. it's part of the process. it hurts. and it's not fair. and i don't like it. and i SO wish i had a magic wand to just make it all better and get rid of all the yuk. but the yuk is part of the learning and growing process. even plants need a little shit to be healthy.

...and counting

it's been six weeks since my oldest son moved.

it feel like a lifetime. it feels like a few days.

it feels like the world has completely stopped. it feels like everything is on fast forward.

i've had a fuck of a time writing lately. there's so much hurt and anger and sadness and worry and gut wrenching sickness.

but i still get up and go to work.

i still meet up with friends.

i still make sure my youngest son has a good birthday.

i still try like fuck to hold it all together.

that's the real reason i haven't written.

i can't fall apart.

there's too many things to do. i can't write at work because i can't let them see me cry.

i can't write at home because there's dishes and dinner and grocery shopping and all the things i'm supposed to be doing (but can't because i'm just frozen).

i can't think about it. i can't fall apart.

i've lost my son. for probably a long time. i hope not forever.

but i can't think about it because i still have another son that needs me.

i'm so worried. everyone says he'll come back around. he won't hate me forever. he didn't really mean it when he told me he never wants to see me again.

i shouldn't read into him avoiding phone calls, stilted text message conversations. i shouldn't focus on the anger and blame during the few phone conversations that have happened.

i've taken my time thinking over the last few weeks. i can't say it's all been good thinking. i've used (and quite possibly abused) my sounding board friends. i've tried to look at things from all different angles, all different options.

i still haven't found another option that would have been better. i know this is the way it needed to be. it hasn't made it any easier. even weeks out.

i have so many questions and theories and ideas of why it all happened the way it did. i'm still working through them. i know i may not have any answers, ever. i'm working on being ok with that. some of the questions i'm still working up the courage to ask the right people and hope that they're willing to give me an honest response. i've been realizing half truths and passive destructions and undermining that go back years. it makes me think i'll i honestly never get real answers to my questions. it makes me think i've never gotten any honest answers from some people.

people ask how i am. how i've been doing. i answer politely but vaguely. i'm battling. it's true. i don't say it's a bloody, ugly, mean, horrible battle. i just answer politely and move on as quickly as possible. i feel like i've become adept at distractions- ask people questions, keep an arsenal of current events handy to change the topic, know ways to move on as quickly as possible. 

speaking of which.

i had a huge realization last week with the small spawn aging one more year: i'm the same age now as my mum when she got married to her second husband, and the small spawn is the age as my brother (and then me, three years younger).

it's hard to imagine my mom at 27 dating and...being young. hard to imagine her being the age i am now getting married to have someone help her raise her kids (her words). she's always been old to me. i never remember her being young or going out or anything. i remember one time in seattle she showed us she could change lanes without hitting the turtles in the road (the raised lane markers). i remember she had one gal she worked with that we would occasionally go over to their house on the edge of town. i think that was it for the extent of her friends and the extent of activity. she, to this day, has never had a drink of alcohol. she would go to work parties during the holidays but only stay a half hour because she didn't like being around people "like that" (drinkers). we went to church and i'm sure there were people there...but i dont remember her having a social circle. to this day i have NO CLUE what she would do during spring break and our two weeks in the summer my brother and i spent with our dad. we usually came home to rearranged furniture and her with a fresh perm. that's it.

it makes me wonder how my kids see me. i try to take them places and do things- movies, baseball games, hockey games, vacations (well, just one of those). i have a good circle of friends. i take time for myself and go out with said friends, attend theater, tweet-ups. i have friends over for dinner parties and bbq's and movie nights and just hang out nights. i've attempted dating (as well as that's gone...ugh). i've tried to make life LIFE. i've tried to show my kids conflict and resolution. i've tried to show them how to have a good time but still be responsible. i've tried to show them all the things that were hidden from me as a kid because they were grown up issues (never too early to learn budgeting and being money wise to me.)

i don't want my kids to look back on their childhood and only vaguely remember stories associated with pictures but draw a huge blank for the rest of it.

i'm 33. my youngest is 11. my oldest will be able to drive in a few months. life FLIES BY. i want them to remember it and love it.

on another track- i look at how my mom felt like she HAD to get married to have someone help her raise her kids. while i don't agree with that in any way shape or form, i also realize i've gone almost too far in the opposite direction shunning anyone that offers help (especially those that tried to force their help or tell me how it should be done). i'm so afraid of being like her- not being strong enough to do it on my own. i'm pretty sure i'm able to do it on my own. at least i have been able to for 15 years. pretty sure i don't have anything to prove to anyone at this point, so i need to just cool my jets and stop being so...harsh.

it all comes back to balance. i want someone willing to help, but not someone that thinks i NEED help. i'm not some fucking damsel in distress. i'm a damsel- maybe more of a dame. but i'm not exactly in distress. i've kept the lights on and the cupboards filled just fine. i want a partner, not an asshole knight on a horse that is going to shit all over my lawn (the horse. not the knight. well, maybe both). BUT. to get someone willing to help, i have to be willing to LET them help. i have to quit being so worried people will think i'm weak.

i have to quit being worried about people in general.

yeah. that's the biggest part of the equation. people are always going to have their own opinions. i can't control that. i'm sure no matter what someone out there is going to think i'm baby daddy shopping. someone is going to think i needed rescued. someone is going to think i'm with a guy i don't deserve. someone is going to think i could do better. someone is going to think i'm a fucking beached whale. someone is going to think i have soft movie cuddling enhanced plushness.

i have to quit worrying about others and worry about me. i have to look for what i need. what is important to me. what is best for my little core that's left.

IN OTHER NEWS:

i've said it before and i'll say it again: tattoos are my form of healing/working through things. i PLANNED on finishing up my second half sleeve before venturing out into any other tattoos, but gene had other ideas.

i've already introduced gene:

 well, gene needed a friend.

so.  meet anita:

she helps take care of gene. she's there to ice his injuries, mend his broken little heart. sweet little pigeon-toed anita.

together they're kind of AMAZING.

i know for sure i have gene in me. i've taken my hits. i've had my heart broken. i've been knocked around pretty good over the last few years but i'm still going.

but i also have anita in me (i know it's not a proper sentence. shut it.) i'm a fixer. i'm a helper. i want to make things better and take away what pain i can. i want to help put things back together, be there when someone needs me...especially my own damn self. back to that balance thing. admit my hurt, but also my own power to heal. like gene and anita. they go together. i'm going to keep taking hits over the years. and i'm going to keep fixing over the years.


so. 

six weeks. six weeks and counting.

i have plenty to say. i've been taking notes. i just haven't been able to get it out.

i'm trying to come back around. i'll get there.

six weeks is a lifetime and a blink. i'm getting there.

what doesn't kill you still hurts like fuck

i've been trying to sit down and write this for well over a week now.

i've been through a full season of friends while procrastinating, worked on the house, mowed the lawn, sat starting at nothing for a good many hours, talked to friends, gone to work...hell, i even went on a small shopping spree trying to avoid this.

yet here we are.

i've started, restarted, hand written, cussed and discussed with friends, i can't seem to make this one come out the way it needs to. or maybe the way i think i need it to.

so. if i can't make it come out the way i think it needs to, then how does it REALLY need to come out?


two weeks ago i was quietly minding my own business when a voicemail came in:

"hi there, we're on our way to town and wanted to know if we could stop and say goodbye to the boys. (insert tragic crying here). we're moving to alabama and wanted a chance to say hello and goodbye."

thanks. MOM.

yeah. my mom calls and gives me an hour notice she's moving across the country. spiffy.
 
so i called back. told her she could stop by but her husband still isn't allowed near my house. i have this funny rule about not letting pedophiles near my kids. strange, i know. overprotective bitch of a mom i guess.

"but you'll be there the whole time..."

no. not sorry at all. WILL NOT let a pedophile around my kids. PERIOD. end of sentence.

"oh. well then i'll be in contact."

oh rejection. we meet again.

my mother is moving across the country, gives an hour notice, and AGAIN (still) decides a pedophile is more important to her than her own blood.

*sigh*

at least i've learned that it's not ME. i've done nothing wrong. her choices are HER choices. i'll never know why. i'll never be able to change it. all i can do is stand my ground, protect my kids, and let the rest roll off.

if you know me at all, you know how hard it is to write that small paragraph. let it roll off.  it's not me.

so. i call my brother to find out what's going on. long story short- job changes.

BUT. my brother happens to mention that he came up on memorial day for a goodbye party at mums house.

i'm sorry.

WHAT?

he drove through town with his family TWICE. there and back. TWICE. and didn't bother to call, stop by, give me a heads up or anything.

so. yeah. that rejection thing. twice in under an hour.

ouch.

oh, and remember that whole break up thing just a few days before?

how many hits can an ego take in three days?

so. there it is. three strikes. fucking ow.

surprisingly, that all didn't rattle me as much as i thought it would. at least not in the way i thought it would. i didn't go through the rejection feelings i normally would. i didn't feel wrong or broken. i didn't feel at fault, or damaged. i know it's their decisions. i know i'm still ok. i know i can't answer things for them or change their minds. i know that it will only drive me bat shit crazy trying to answer the why. i know that i just have to say THAT SUCKS. that really fucking sucks ass. it hurts like a mother fucker. it isn't the way it should (yes, i understand that should's are a problem in themselves) be. IT FUCKING HURTS. even if i'm ok not knowing why. even if i'm ok knowing it's not me. even if i'm ok still loving who i am- IT STILL FUCKING SUCKS.

so i say that. i recognize that. i own that.

and i move on.

or i sit still in one place it turns out.

i'm not hurt, but i'm also not moving forward.

here it is a few weeks later and i'm drifting. i've got my head up my ass making some shit decisions, letting myself get lost in a few strange/unexpected ways.

and then another blow to the good old ego.

my mom stopped by today completely out of the blue. just pulled up to my house at noon on a friday.

a) why the fuck isn't she in alabama?
b) why the fuck is she stopping by without calling?
c) what the fuck could she possibly want?

no answers to a or b, but the answer to c was apparently to prove to me again why i'm better off without her in my life.

she had a bunch of shit for me. while cleaning out the house she "found" a bunch of stuff from my dad. his john denver records, some necklaces he'd given her WAY back in the day (30ish years ago), and some other random shit.

best way to start off a conversation?

"i have some stuff from your dad for you."

ummm- my dad's been dead THREE YEARS.

any stuff you "have from him" should have been handed over a fuck of a long time ago or left alone.

but of course it can't just be a one two punch of her showing up and finally turning over my dad's stuff. good things come in threes after all, don't they?

what other great parting shots/gifts does she have for me?

how about a giant fucking poster board from my WEDDING RECEPTION.

yeah. that domestic violence marriage i fought like hell to get out of 10 years ago?

OF COURSE i would love a giant reminder of that.

couldn't have just taken the pictures off and passed those along? had to pass on the whole fucking poster board too?

obviously the effort went in at some point to remove his photos. couldn't just pop out the other ones and trash the board? literally took about 15 seconds to do this afternoon. but...you know...why NOT pass along the whole reminder of the marriage and just rip open that scar too?


*SIGH*

so here i sit tonight. i've done a LOT of writing the last few days and more this afternoon. the actual physical writing stuff. pen to paper, empty the brain, work through all the shit that's been back piling and distracting me.

i don't know if i have any answers. i do know that i recognize things aren't going where they need to be, my head isn't where it needs to be, and my decision making sure as fuck isn't where it needs to be.

i know that my issues are bullshit at the end of the day; there's people with real shit going on. more than someone stopping by with a poster board. more than a few hurt feelings over a break up or a brother not visiting while driving through town. i realize that i need to keep perspective- there's people dealing with cancer and death and unemployment, people losing their homes, PTSD, REAL SHIT.

i didn't know how to start this and i don't know how to end this. this week is a "mommy vacation" week- the spawns will both be gone for a few days so i'm going to take this time to get my shit together, get a plan, get back on a track at least and start making some movement forward again. i'll finish up the house, get it listed again, start considering work again, get some sense of purpose and, hell, maybe even a plan.

i know. crazy talk. me with a plan. next thing i'm going to have a 5 year goal.

oh lordy. i crack me up.

anyway.

broken pieces

i've had writers block since this summer. i've known exactly what was causing it but haven't wanted to face up to it. i've had the words. i've known what i wanted to say a thousand times over in a thousand different ways, but i just couldn't say it. and when you know there's something you need to say but you're being stubborn about saying it, well, it makes it really hard to say anything else.

i'm ready now.

i'm broken. i have a hard time in relationships so i avoid them. i thought i knew why for a long time but this summer there was a flat, bold face, plain as day answer given to all the things i've thought over the years. it's ugly and it's dark. but i know what it is now. what i don't have is a solution for it or a way to move past it yet. maybe finally saying it will help.

ok. so maybe i'm not ready to say all of it. part of the writing process you can't see: i've typed and deleted several paragraphs trying to decide what to include and what to leave out to get to the main point of this post. readers digest version that i'll get back to at some point when i'm more ready: my mom is married to a pedophile. her husband was inappropriate towards me growing up and i found out after moving away from small town USA that he had also been grooming my youngest son. i told my mom about it at one point when it was just me, and again when i found out it was happening to my son.

i'm sure you can imagine how much more is packed into that one paragraph if it was allowed to unfold itself.

when i told my mom about my experiences she looked at me and said: "well, what do you want me to do about it? it's already happened." when i told my mom about my son she told me that i was just projecting my own experiences on him and there was no way it could have happened.

perhaps now it's making a little more sense to some of you why my mom and i don't have the best relationship.

it's been really hard for me over the last few years to see her stand beside this pedophile at the expense of a relationship with my kids and i. as long as he is anywhere around, we won't be. my older brother has taken her side. he doesn't believe there's a problem and i'm just being the stubborn kid that i've always been for no reason. after losing my dad and my younger brother, it's unspeakably hard to not have any connection to what blood family i have left.

the biggest thing over the last few years: i felt like the one who was wrong. i felt like maybe i was being a little harsh or maybe it was all just in my head. maybe THAT was the reason i was so broken: i made things up and i was unreasonable.

this summer my mom asked me to go to therapy with her. she'd been trying to work out why she and i don't have a relationship and her therapist suggested that maybe i should come in to talk over some things. a mom is a mom and there's countless studies to show that no matter how bad things get, our primal instinct is to call out for our mothers. i want my mother. i do. so i decided to go. maybe we could work it out. maybe she would see my side and understand why i was protecting my kids. maybe she would say she loved me and chose me for once.

we sat in that office. i talked about what it was like growing up. i talked about why i had separated myself from her. i talked about how it felt having her chose a pedophile over me, her daughter. the therapist heard me. she pulled together my pieces with the things my mom had talked about. the therapist, a trained professional looked at the whole picture and i was honestly, truly shocked by what she told me: i wasn't crazy. my experiences were real. my decision to protect my children was the right one. knowing what she had worked on with my mom and then hearing my pieces, it made sense and fit together and i wasn't being the unreasonable terrible daughter i believed i was. the therapist flat out said if she had known the whole story from the beginning her work with my mom would have been totally different. she believed me.

i can't tell you how powerful that moment was. someone validated me. validated the things i knew to be true. feelings and experiences i'd been wanting someone to believe. the things i though made me crazy and broken weren't right. things i've hated about myself since i was a teenager weren't my fault. i didn't ask to be treated the way i was. i didn't cause things that happened to me. it wasn't right that i had been ignored. it wasn't right that i was made to feel bad for protecting my kids. the therapist told me i was reasonable and level headed and the things i was doing were on the right track and i shouldn't waiver or back down. it was so powerful to have someone on my side. there. in the same room as my mom. my mom HAD to hear it. she HAD to know. she HAD to see it and acknowledge it and it would be different.

but just as quickly, i lost that moment. just as quickly my mom looked at the therapist and said i was crazy and heard voices in my head (she literally said exactly that). that i made things up. my own mother said that none of my experiences, none of my memories are real. she was so scared of the truth that she flat denied it and just shattered me. she looked straight at me and said nothing i remember, none of my experiences will ever be right or true. ever.

THAT.

THAT MOMENT. that is the real reason i'm broken. as powerful as the moment before it had been of someone believing me and validating me had been, THAT MOMENT was a thousand times more destructive. my mother doesn't believe me. she doesn't think i'm worth protecting for fighting for. i'm not worth loving. my mother would rather protect a monster than love a daughter. in that moment she threw me away. my own family rejected me. my family thinks i'm broken and damaged and not worth fighting for. i am not loveable. i am not good. i am not worth anything.

and if my own family, my own flesh and blood feels that way, what hope is there of ever finding a partner in life to accept me?

NOW: I KNOW. i know i have friends that love me and accept me. i hope there will eventually be someone on the life partner level that will feel the same way. but there is a whole fucking canyon between hope and belief. and before i can even begin to cross that canyon i have to have even the smallest confidence that it's even possible. and i don't have that. i don't have even a small piece of that confidence. not even a sliver. the feeling of rejection is so ingrained in me that anyone who tells me they love me must lying. it's an instant deal breaker for me. they want something. they're using me. it CAN'T be true. it's not physically possible for it to be true. i wholly believe that. i know. fucked up.

so there it is. my broken pieces: what's left of my family has rejected me. i truly don't believe i'm loveable. i don't believe i will ever find someone that wont go away or let me push them away. i don't believe there will ever be someone to fight for me and with me.

there are my pieces. now. how do i fix them? how do i teach myself that those pieces aren't right? how do i teach myself that i am loveable and that someone will want me? how do i believe what that therapist saw? how do i teach myself not to destroy chances at good things because they're foreign? how do i make pieces that are right and put them all together?

i recently tried my hand at a true, talked about it, put a name on it, give it a shot, relationship. it didn't make it very far. among several of the red flags that i filtered through, the biggest one was that he dropped the love bomb on me. after only a few weeks. and i INSTANTLY shut down. instantly. something must be wrong. it couldn't be true. now, there was more to it. there always is. but i don't know if it was real. i don't know if he really did love me or if it was because we had a small argument and he thought it would make things better. i don't know because i didn't give it a chance. like i said, there was more to it, but i couldn't even look at any of the more because i was DONE. that moment i fully shut down, completely shut off because there was no way it could be true. he must have been lying because no one can love me. people who have know me my whole life can't love me. how could some one that's only known me for a few weeks say that? and so i destroyed it. it's done.

how do i NOT do that? how do i not shut down? how do i not instantly want to call someone a liar? how do i start to unbelieve that bad and really believe the good? i have to start to believe that i'm loveable. i have to. the hard part of that is i don't know where to start. and i don't know if i ever will believe it. i don't like that. i don't like that i'm questioning it before i've even started the process. it's going to be a helluva journey. there's a lot of damage to undo.

accusation

i can’t think straight this morning. i am so livid that i can’t focus on anything or even pretend to work until i get this out of my head.

this morning i was accused of using my kids (or taking them away) against a friend as punishment for an argument between us. i was accused of taking things that i know about her and using them against her to get back at her.

*deep breath*

i have NEVER. EVER. in my entire life, EVER done that to anyone. EVER. i am not a vindictive person. i do not sit around plotting ways to get back at people. i do not seek revenge. and i would NEVER, EVER use my kids as a form of punishment.

my gut wants to lash out and say “well, that makes sense. people that DO things like that would be more apt to accuse others of that.” i really feel that’s the truth. i have never, ever in my life, plotted against someone. i have never, ever thought about what would hurt someone the most based on their history or experiences and then done something to intentionally cause hurt. to even be accused of that is one of the most egregious things.

i guess it goes to show that even the people i thought knew me don’t know me at all. i honestly can’t believe someone would accuse me of that. and to say that i used my kids as a form of punishment. i am livid about that accusation. even in the WORST of my divorce, the worst of my fights with the oldest spawns father, the worst of the fights with my mum (before i had to cut all ties for safety), i never, EVER, EVER brought my kids into things. my ex-husband had a toxic, horrible relationship, but when it came to our son, i would set that aside and allow him visitations because it was best for my son. he has since chosen not to exercise that right, but to this day, i would happily put my issues aside if it meant my son had a father figure. yes, even knowing what a toxic person he is, because when push comes to shove it is still his father and half of who he is.

the oldest spawns father and i used to go rounds. there were times when we HATED each other. we were young and stupid and angry. but that NEVER came between the spawn and his father. sure there were drop off/pick up sessions where NOTHING was said between the father and i, but my spawn still had his visits. same with my mum. as mad as i would be at her, if the kids wanted to see her, they were more than allowed to because it’s good for them to have contact with family.

even with this friend now- whatever our issue is, i have never once stopped the oldest spawn from email her or calling her. so to be accused of taking them away from her as a punishment…it just makes no sense.

i just. *sigh* i can’t imagine that i’m being accused of being that person. i don’t even have the capability to be that person. there have been times where i WISHED i could be that person. i wished i knew how to take revenge or play games or use things against people, but i can’t even begin to wrap my head around the how and the why and the energy and planning that it takes. it’s always fascinated me watching reality tv because those characters are so foreign to me and i just can’t even imagine how they do it.

there has to be a point or a lesson in here somewhere. there needs to be something i take forward from this: i guess there can be a few things:

#1 you can never really know someone and what they truly think of you. guard yourselves, and always know who YOU are to be able to know when such accusations are truth or not. i will not question myself or who i am because of this because i know it is not even a fraction true. but it still hurts that someone could think this of me.

#2 i think what people portray on to you shows their own true colors. i really believe that an accusation like this must come from someone inclined to behave like this themselves. i don’t think i could ever accuse someone of behavior like this because it is the last thing i would ever think of doing and therefore wouldn’t even be an option of explanation to me. said another way: i don’t think i could ever accuse someone of acting out a behavior i couldn’t even think of doing myself. this is also the reason i would make a lousy cop. the things people do astound me every. single. day. i cant imagine the energy people put into some of the things they do. USE YOUR POWERS FOR GOOD, NOT EVIL. that’s a side track, but it still applies. mostly.

anytwaddle. vent over. i’m sure there are more lessons hidden in this one, but it will take me a while to get over the shock and be able to absorb them. so. for now. i’m purged. the anger is gone. and we’re moving forward.