Category: Parenting

I hope

I hope

As I sit upon the witness chair
At the judge I’m supposed to stare
Give my story, my heart I’ll bare
Beg for a sentence long and fair

Explain how hard it’s been to cope
May confess how I’ve turned to dope
Through words of emotion I will grope
Hold myself together, is my hope

I’ll tell of memories I hold dear
Then tell of what I now most fear
All his charges I dread to hear
When it’s over I’ll seek a beer.

I walk in numbness, dread and pain
The thought of seeing him again
Is nothing more than a mental strain
My love for him I need to explain

I just want to hold him one last time
Regardless of the type of his crime
My soul and heart aches and pines
knowing he may be away for a lifetime

Will they let me see him?
I hope
Will they let me hug him?
I hope.
Will he want to see me?
I hope.
I hope.
I hope.

A living hell

“Youre making my life a living hell!” He said as he turned to walk up the stairs.Two weeks ago, I petitioned for a court-ordered family intervention, in an attempt for him to get clean and go back to therapy. He now has to succumb to random drug testing and pass before he can get his driver’s license.

Yesterday, I sold his brother’s Camry, which has sat in our driveway for 2 years. TWO YEARS! Flat tires, a dead battery, and in desperate need of brake work. So he was also angry about that. Mad that it wasn’t given to him. He said a few other things, then told me I was obligated to buy him alcohol, and if I didn’t, he would drink mine.

“I make YOUR life a living hell??” “You call THIS hell? I provide you with food, a nice bed and bedroom to sleep in, I take you wherever you want to go whenever you want to go there. You call this hell?”

I tell you what a “living hell” is! Living hell is having a different son who is a child molester. Living hell is being subpoenaed to watch his trial and sentencing. Living hell is wondering what will be the next thing to set you, YOU, child of complaints, off. Will you try to kill yourself again to escape “YOUR living hell”? “Living hell” is wondering whether you will have the initiative to graduate from high school. Do you want me to continue? I can.

I have other complaints, other hells. Living hell is remembering the day my ex-husband held my 22-year-old son up against the wall by the throat and screamed in His face, “I hate you!! NEVER call me dad again!!” Because he wasn’t his biological father, even though he raised him from 6mths old. “Living hell” is remembering the time he threw my 3rd born son against the house, grabbing and twisting his shirt so tight a button flew off. “Living hell” was that day he threw the 5th born up against the fridge, suspending him in the air, holding him by the neck. “Living hell” is my life every time I have one of those memories…. It’s like reliving them all over again.

So, son, go ahead and explain to me HOW your life is a living hell.

May 10, 2015

I have found myself saying, “the hardest thing I’ve had to do”, over and over again. But here goes another time: the hardest thing I’ve had to do is let go of trying to keep my son alive.

He has attempted suicide twice, talked about it numerous times. 
His 13yr old sister looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “Mom, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.”
She is so right.
He is in a “treatment center” and they’re putting him in antidepressants… I told them he would just try to take the whole damn bottle. They told me that since he is a minor I am responsible to administer them to him. 
Oh great! Now I have to buy a safe? A lock? Wtf? Where am I supposed to hide these? The last bottle of pills he took … He took them right out of my purse! 
He is almost 17, I’ve not treated him as a child, but now they want me to administer medicine to him as if he’s a baby.  
I told the therapist who is supposed to be “helping” him, “I do not want to just treat his symptoms. Suicide and Major Depressive Disorder are only symptoms of something else going on inside of him. Can we please try to deal with the cause?” 
Oh… ((Insert big sigh here))… This is another one of those “hardest things I’ve had to do” this past year.  

 

March 12, 2015

I thought I had accepted my ex husbands lack of communication with my children.  But it does something to a mothers heart when her children come to her crying because Dad won’t answer or return calls nor respond to texts.

Earlier this week we had an emergency involving one of the children and I felt that it would only be the right thing to let “Dad” know what was going on. I called and left him a pleasant message, then texted him asking him to call when he had a chance because there is a child related. Emergency.  He sent me a text that stated, “I’m not calling.”  At this point I’m still calm and understanding because he and I can not be near each other without a fight ensuing. I reminded him that if I was actually willing to speak with him on the phone then it must be pretty serious. His response was, “text it or handle it”.  So I went ahead and texted to horrible news to him.  He said, “I care nothing of what you need to do, handle it” I said, “ok, I’ll pass this on to _____” (the child in this emergency)
His dickhead response was  “whatever”.
I know I need to move forward and move on with my life… And I will, but it’s the stress of dealing with the broken hearts of my children that’s wearing me down. That poor child may never trust a man again. And i don’t blame her. Will I be able to trust again? 

March 10, 2015

I thought that leaving an abusive marriage after 24 years was hard. Even more difficult was when their father refused to reply to the children’s  texts.  But last week threw me a curve ball.  The hardest thing I have yet to  face. The words  I heard coming out of my daughters lips.   Never did I ever imagine it could or would happen to my family.  I knew what I had to do. I knew what the right thing was, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Just because it’s right, Doesn’t make it easy.  I had to make the call. I had to tell them what I knew and what I’ve been told. 

Here I am, newly single mom, sole-provider… Financially, emotionally and any other “ly” necessary. Here I am trying to be strong, yet so broken. I don’t remember the last night I remained sober. Some things you just don’t want to think about or remember.   I have to be strong for my daughter, but yet I know in my heart this means I have lost a son. The pain of knowing the truth isn’t as hard as the pain of the precious memories I have.
I thought about Going to get on antidepressants… But I’m already numb, I already sleep well from mental and physical exhaustion… I don’t need anything that’ll suppress the sex drive… That’s my only release! Oh … To be able to start life over, wouldn’t that be grand? 



July 26, 2014

I considered deleting all these old posts, but I hope that my transparency will be of help or inspiration to someone going through what I did.

Thank god my life is so much better now. I am better too.

I sit broken, Looking for direction, Feeling alone. I know this is my life but my life was meant to be shared, not hoarded and kept to myself.
I’m learning a lot about myself in this process. Being separated from my husband (soon ex-husband) has a caused me to look inside.
Ive learned that I have a kind, gracious heart. Last night our son played a show in town. I had a strong desire to send “Dad” a video of some of the songs they played. I had to remind myself that he has made no effort nor any attempts to contact his children since he left more then 3 weeks ago.
I learned that I believe in people, Even when they aren’t exhibiting very good character qualities. I told our son that one of the hardest things for me to “get-over” is his lack of concern for the children. Our son said, “Mom, did you really expect anything different?” I said, “Yes, son, I did. I had confidence in him.” He said, “Not me. I lost all confidence in that guy.”
I’ve also learned that even though I have no desire to remain married to this man. There is still a “letting go” process. I have to let go of my strong desire to see him stay in contact with our children.
There are so many things out of my control. I have to let go of all of them.
I’ve learned that I do not like to be alone. I miss adult companionship.
I learned I can chug 2 beers, have a public melt-down, and get myself back together all within 60 seconds.
I’ve learned that I am not done learning.

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July 21, 2014

Those boundaries I was supposed to be setting aren’t real sturdy. I let my guard down today. I let my ex get to me. Now I feel so emotionless, so numb. Just a human existence. I discovered my kitty curled up “asleep”. All day I’ve been asking where she was, no one had seen her. Then I found her. No longer breathing. All I can do is let out a breath. A big sigh. I have no tears. I can’t even feel. I see tears stream down my 5yr olds face. I am not moved. I hold him close. Try my best to comfort him. Tonight, Mommy doesn’t have much comfort to give. All I have is my embrace, and I hope that is enough.

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Fueled my fire

2014

Another day, a lot more tears. I am lying in a pit of self-pity, looking up through the opening at the beautiful blue sky. It feels like there are vines tangled around my heart, holding me down.
My oldest daughter sent me the most vicious, hateful letter last night. She said things just like the pro she learned from, her father. Words too vile to print on this screen. Emotions, I hope NO mother ever hears from a child. I literally have chest pains. If I weren’t under so much stress and heartache right now, I would run myself to the ER.
I see a passing cloud, as tears pour out of my eyes. I can’t move. No, I can, but I don’t want to.
He has already purchased a new truck for himself, while I drive the shit he left me with that needs a new radiator.

Ariana Grande has a song, “Problem”. My other daughter brings her radio and iPod into my room and plays me the song. “I’ve got one less problem without ya”. Our motto.

I feel heat. It’s in my soul, a fire, burning. I can feel it burning at these vines that are holding me down. The vines are helpless; they are so fragile compared to the fire that’s growing. From the glow of the fire, I can see more vines going all the way to the top. I will arise. I will climb out and conquer this day.

My son sent me this text: “We can do this. We will do this. It’s gonna be better than it ever has been. It’ll be hard but it’ll be worth it. Don’t get down. That’s what the purpose was behind all of this. To make us get down and depressed. Don’t let them have that power over you. Rise above so that one day they will look up from whatever out they find themselves in and realize their mistake.”

It’s a bonfire now!!!

Learning to accept 

UPDATE: its been over a year since “dad” had any contact with his children… I accept it… BUT the problems he left me with, pisses me off!

Admitting there is a problem is half the cure. Isn’t that what they tell us?
I can finally admit that my ex-husband abandoned our children. Our precious 5yr old said he misses “Daddy” and asked why he left us. I didn’t have an answer for him. The next step is accepting that he abandoned everyone. It’s been a very emotional week for us. The children, especially, are beginning to show their pain and anger in different ways. Suicide attempts, rage, screaming, depression, … Just a few.
It been almost 10 weeks since he left. 10 weeks since he spoke to any of the children. 10 weeks. I haven’t accepted it completely yet, but I’m working on it, and as the weeks pass by, it gets easier because it is more obvious day by day.