This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

pedestal

So first off – they are lonely places. High up, away from the rest of the world, they are colder usually than down on the ground. There’s never enough room to fit more than one (1) person, so it gets sorta lonely up there. Its boring too. Nothing to do but really sit there, and try not to fall off.

The second part is that they hurt when you do fall off. And you’re gonna fall off. Eventually everyone falls off the pedestal that they’ve been put on. You can’t stay up there forever. Something is bound to happen that throws off the balance that you are keeping, in trying to stay up there on the damn thing. Oppsy-Daisy, we all fall down. When falling down off of the pedestal, not only do you get hurt – but generally you manage to smack into the person who put you up there to begin with.

I got smacked in the head this morning. And it hurt.

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

You take a lot from her. I don’t know if I could.

Yes I do.

I freely admit that I take a lot from my daughter. I am the brunt of most of her outbursts. I am the one person that she blames for every thing wrong in the world. I am the one person that simply cannot do anything right, nor help her in any way, at all. I am the one person that she truly hates in this world. Heck, I’m worse than every boy who’s ever broken her heart. Yes, to my daughter, I am the Antichrist.

For me, being a parent means that I have to be there for my kids… No. Matter. What.

Even, being there for them, when they are at their lowest points, and are so angry, hurt, and upset with Every Thing that they Know; they lash it out at anyone within arm’s length. As the saying goes… “Hurt People… Hurt. People.” Generally themselves, the most. Most people run and hide. After all this is the sensible thing to do when confronted with someone who is bound and determined to hurt someone, something, anyone, anything – to make it feel better. ((not that this actually makes anyone feel better, as we all know))

Me. I stand right there next to her. Doing my best to make sure that in her fury; she doesn’t harm herself. Sometimes… Well, sometimes, I get a bit battered and bruised, in the process.

Yet, I don’t know that I like the alternative.

I am so grateful for my friends. I’m telling you there is nothing, that a good long talk with my besties, can’t be solved in my world. Thank you to Elise and Tim for loving me so well.

So I gotta admit that allowing my children to go and live with their father for a week was hard. One of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I did NOT have a good night on Thursday night. I wallowed in my shit for hours and hours.

As I sat on the plane to Sac on Friday night I tried to figure out, Why. Yes, I was in a total over-thinking mood, all weekend. Poor Tim and Elise. They do put up with a lot from me, and how I am. I can be real mood-killer.

So, Why would it bother me so much to have the children with Barry this past weekend? When in factual light he and I had already agreed that, he would keep the children not only during his weekend, but also on Sunday, and Monday nights, while I was in CA visiting with Elise and Tim. This was only adding 2 nights on, 1 onto each end. Which again, shouldn’t have bothered me; and normally wouldn’t.

So WHY did it bother me so much?

Context.

Before Barry pulled his “Hyde-personality” and “let’s-pick-a-fight”, routine on Thursday morning, I was fine with the kids over at his home for 4 days. Had he asked me to keep them an extra day, as something nice for him; like when he wanted to take them to the beach for 4 days over the summer… I would have said: “Sure. Why not. That would be great. Easier on the kids. I wouldn’t worry about them being home for a few hours on Tuesday night when I arrived home late from the airport.”

But that is not how it went down.

Instead, it was “I’m going to take you to court and sue you for joint-custody of the kids. 50 / 50 so I don’t have to pay any child support. You’re keeping the kids away from me.”

Other than him taking me to court, nothing is further from the truth. Which I pointed out to him, in a conversation about how I don’t enforce our current agreement to the letter. Ever. AND HE AGREED WITH ME.

So why the drama?

Context.

When its me just being nice to him, he doesn’t like it. Why doesn’t he?
I am not him. I won’t speak for him.
I have my theories. Elise has her’s. Tim has his. I have mine. The gal in the check-out line at the Publix has her’s. Every one has their opinion.
Opinions are like assholes, every one has one. And they all stink.

When it comes down to it, I like to be in control. When Barry pushes my buttons this way, bullies me into doing something; I don’t like it. Even if it was something that I was going to do anyways. Its the fact that he bullied me into it. That I felt threatened, and scared of him, once again. Like I was backed into a corner; and did whatever I could, to keep him from hurting me worse, than he was already doing. I followed the ‘fear’ line of thinking. And I let it drag me right down the rabbit-hole on Thursday night.

Hook – Line – and Sinker.

So once again I was painted as The Bad Mommy, this morning, by K, the behavior therapist for Russell.

He had already had his session and we were called into her office. Its amazing to me how Barry only shows up right before its time for us to go back. And I know that K must know this, because she is the one who lets him into the office. The office has an electronic door, that she has to push a button for anyone to get into the door. She also knows that only RJ and I are the ones who show up at the time it starts.

So there we sit. The 4 of us. As we are talking K asks about his behavior at the dining room table. I think back over the week, and we didn’t have dinner all together, other than Monday night, due to our hectic scheduling with baseball and pep squad. So I had no honest answer for her. Although I did tell her that he was behaving better in the car. Not having to remind him as much to sit down and keep his seatbelt on. I was honest in my response, “I don’t notice it in the moment, but if I take a moment to sit and look back on it. Its not any worse than before. Nothing really big pops out at me.”

Then we talk about this morning’s incident with his outburst at me. I felt that it was uncalled for, but understandable considering the situation.

I was in the bathroom, and instead of getting out the big white board with Russell’s list on it, I was giving him the 3 new things he has to do in the mornings. As I was telling him about making his bed, I felt that I needed to be more clear in my communicating; so I expanded upon my first intial statement.
But before I could finish speaking, he yelled at me “I know! I heard you!”

Now I didn’t know that he had heard me, because he wasn’t standing in front of me. I had no eye contact. I had no verbal from him as I began my communications. I didn’t get any immediate response, so I felt I needed to expand upon my reminder, by being more clear of what I expected in the task of making his bed. “Putting your bedding back up on your bed. Pillows. Blankets.”

She asked him if this was true. Stating that perhaps we needed to work on him verbalizing to me, in a kind tone, that he had heard me. Instead of me trying to guess.

I told him, “Yes. I didn’t know that you heard me. I was in the bathroom, when you were in the hallway. When you yell at me that way, it hurts my feelings.”

K: “You shouldn’t do that.”

Me: *looking at her confused*

K: “You shouldn’t internalize it. It gives the child too much power over you. Imagine now that they know this, they are going to use it to try and hurt you over and over and over again.”

Me: “Yes. I know that they do. I have 3 other daughters.”

K: “Its like you should never cry in front of your kids. It gives them the power to hurt you in the future.”

I just shut up. I just sit there and wonder, WTF. I’m trying to teach them that what they do in the world has consequences. That their actions can hurt others’ feelings. I shouldn’t let them know that people have feelings? I’m trying to let my children know that I am a human being. I feel like I’m the place where they learn how to be human beings, themselves. How to treat the other human beings on the planet. To be the one human being that will always forgive them, when they mess up on interacting with other humans.

But I guess I’m wrong. Again.

Of course Barry sits there and just agrees with K, “Yep, she’s right.”

I already know that Russell’s brain differences are my fault. They come from me. I gave him this deformity with my genetics. I didn’t mean too. If I had known this, I wouldn’t have had any children. I wouldn’t have allowed this to happen. I seriously never thought that there was anything wrong with my brain. Sure its hard and frustrating some times. I just assumed it was like this for every body on the planet. Not just me. I get it now. I know that its not normal to have brains like mine. And now my poor son has to live with a fucked-up brain, too.

I just wish that someone would give me a little credit for trying to fix it, instead of constantly penalizing me for it. Where is the ‘good job’ for having attacked the issue with his 504 plan? Which I did bring up, and ask K her recommendations for things in his classroom. Why can’t anyone tell me how good it is that I’ve got this thing done in 6-9 weeks, instead of the 6-9 months that it takes other people? Instead of point-out what a failure I am as a mom. How I’ve got it all wrong in the parenting department.

I already know that I’ve fucked up. No need to keep pointing it out.

I don’t usually publish stuff on here that is written by others, such as this. This has touched me soooo deeply I couldn’t let it go. I’ve watched it a dozen times in the last few days, since finding it on FaceBook. This woman has written my life. She has been able to put to words my journey, in a way that I haven’t been able too.
My gratitude to you Lucy.

Click this link to find a short movie called “Mine”

He was my comrade. Sinking into the trenches.
I wanted to rescue him…
If that meant bearing his loathing… his insults.
If I could have swallowed his sadness….
I would have.

But I wasn’t his comrade.
I was a prisoner of his war.
Until a friend made me listen (*thank you Elena*)
After 20 years, I made a break for it… (*with my children in tow*)

I am not a casualty of his war.

I am mine.

These words remind me of not “allowing time to soften the edges”. The Ex-husband has been kind lately. He actually said “thank you” to me. I know. I know. Shocking!!!! He has even taken the time to ask about the health of a friend. It makes me remember some of the things about him, that he was capable of. The things that I fell in love with. That made me want to stay by his side, and to heal his demons.

Then I remember. I pause before I fall over the side of that ledge again. I take a deep breath and pull myself back from that very dangerous ledge… of loving him. Of allowing my guard to come down and let him anywhere near that vulnerable part of my self.

I needed Lucy’s words… to remind me of the horrible things that he is capable of. Of the insults. The anger. The nights of fear for my life. The lives of my children. Of the night he was chased down by the sheriff’s dog, and arrested. Of his demons that wanted to kill me alongside of him. To remind me of what is Mine.

And what isn’t.