Pity Party

Tonight little man and I watched Lilo and Stich for the first time. I was surprised to learn, that in my grand tradition of Disney movies, I could still bawl like a baby over a cartoon. Lilo and her sister have a small broken family. And so do I. But unlike Lilo, I am responsible for my little broken family.

Several people have told me that I disclose too much on my blog (and in person as well). Speaks to my lack of self-control I guess. Anyway, the point is that I identified with the movie because hubby and I no longer live together. We are on our way to having new lives, forever connected through our wonderful, sweet son but now apart. Tonight was “my night.”

We are still working on working together and I think we’re both rather proud so far of being able to hold it relatively together. But I am frustrated about my baby’s lack of schedule because it was a nice form of continuity (for both of us) and seemed to ease us both in this rocky life. But tonight after having spent time at dad’s for the past few nights, my kiddo had no interest in climbing easily into his little race car bed. He refused the things that normally soothe him like his blankie, his binkie and his bottle. (Yes, he still has those things despite pushing age 3. Dis me if you will, but the “experts” say not to try to take familiar items away during a transition, i.e. a divorce.) Finally at my wits end, I sat him in bed, shut off the light and closed the door. As my son screamed and cried, “I want my daddy, I don’t want you, mommy!” I collapsed on my bed and sobbed. This is becoming a more commonplace occurrence than I had hoped it would be.

Through my tears, as I often do, I chastised myself for wallowing in self-pity. This situation is my doing; I’ve chosen to sacrifice the happiness of my son for my own selfish chance at a better future. This guilt and shame is mine to bear and I don’t deserve to feel bad for anyone but the people I’ve damaged by deciding to pursue a different path from the one that kept my son and his father and I under the same roof.

I work with so many very amazing people, and one very perceptive friend, an older gentleman, recently told me a personal story. He said that his wife had left him years before. In their specific case she had met someone whom she fell in love with. He tried to do all the things that he should have done throughout their marriage, but it turned out that it was too little too late. He was bitter and upset. He was angry of course with her, for "taking" his family away, but he was also very angry with himself for not putting much effort into his marriage and into the woman he loved. I wondered why he decided to share this with me. He then said, “Don’t ever feel like you don’t deserve to be happy. You do.” He realized that his wife had a right to pursue something for herself—happiness. At first I found the story encouraging. It might be okay that I tried to find something more than what I had. This was before nights like this.

I pulled myself slightly together, made a warm bottle and went into my baby’s room. I tried again to calm him and asked if he would like to come lay with me a while. He said he was scared of the dark and that his room was foggy (?) and so we went and got into my bed where he accepted the bottle. He didn’t seem tired at all, perhaps due to his crazy schedule and constantly being shifted back and forth. I could only think of Lilo and my broken little family and continued to cry as silently as I could. At one point I got a little sobby again and my angel rolled over and put his tiny hand on my wet cheek gently and said, “Mom, I’m okay. I stopped crying.”

We lay there a bit longer and I finally picked him up and put him back in his bed once he had decided it was no longer “foggy.” But I couldn’t help but wonder if he was really okay. I guess only time would tell. One thing was for sure though, I knew I would have a chance at happiness that I didn’t have before but I sure the hell don’t feel like I deserve it. The pity party is gonna be a long one.

Letting Go of Toxic Love

What makes someone remain in a relationship that isn't right for them? Perhaps there are a number of reasons but I think the strongest ones are fear and laziness. Perhaps the fear allows for the laziness—I’m not certain, but I believe I can convincingly argue that fear is to blame.

Recently I lost a loved one. She didn’t die or move or anything like that. She was married to my dad—she was my mom. Well my step-mom anyway. And while she never fit the role I’ve often talked about the ideal mother fulfilling, she had some good qualities and we had 15 or 16 years together. Being close, hugging, talking, loving, and she became a grandmother to my son. Not a step-grandmother, a grandmother. (Grandparents need not be quantified as “step” anything.) While this isn’t the topic, I think it is worth adding that she had a son. And he was special in both senses of the word. He was a new brother for me at the age of 15, who had William’s syndrome, and who very likely taught me more than I could have ever taught him. Anyway, so I lost two loved ones.

So am I sad? Of course.  And no. As with so very many things in my dysfunctional world, I am at odds with myself and my feelings. My step-mom was toxic. She hurt my dad, and my family, and me. Many times. For many years. But she loved my son. And I still believe to the extent that she could, that she loved me. That makes it hard to let go. Even though I know that letting go is the right thing to do. History matters, right? How we once felt and thought matters right? Or is it our own fear about what might lie in the future that forces those things to have the gravity that we perceive that they do?

Early on, I’d say around 6 years in to my “parents” marriage, I would have been around 22 years old ish. We were on our way camping without my step-mom as she had thrown one of her famous “I’m staying home” fits over some inconsequential defiance committed by my pop. And nobody has ever let me forget the ensuing conversation. Dad said something to the effect of, “I just don’t know what to do. Maybe I should just get out.” And I, wanting to hurt my dad as his previous divorces, not to mention the 3 of my mother’s, had hurt me, said, “You said, ‘I do. Don’t you think one of them should count?”  For the last 10 years, I’ve been reminded of that statement, even blamed, by multiple parties for the recent, long overdue situation.  Aside from the sharp words spoken in my youth, what made my dad hold on for 10 more years? Fear.

What if we never find love again? What if we live our lives alone? What if our children hate us for our failures? What if we find everything we ever wanted…and it changes everything we know to be true? I’m not sure what my father convinced himself of, but I imagine these to be the questions. I’m certainly empathetic to this line of thought. He comes from a tiny town. I told him once in order to change his life he would need to reinvent himself completely. Move. Perhaps a new career... abandon the town he’d spent his entire life in and everything he knew.  I could sense the hesitation at the very thought. And I don’t blame him. But if we only have this singular life, what could we possibly use to justify wasting any one moment of it? Fear is the only emotion strong enough. That is my theory.

I miss you crazy step-mom. But I can’t waste my precious minutes in this place any longer. I’m scared about what might happen. Even as an adult I don’t want to deal with another momma or my dad’s dating life, or advising him on where to live an how to carry on. I get SOOOOO tired of being the one who supports everyone else. Just one time, I want to lean on someone instead of a line of people waiting to lean on me.  But, in the end I’m happy that my dad was finally able to let go of his toxic love. Because everyone deserves the kind of love that helps you flourish and thrive. Everyone deserves a conversation that touches your soul, a touch that makes you tingle, and nobody deserves to be infected by toxicity constantly. I guess there is a balance that fear can tip toward the toxic…but if you accept that you deserve to feel loved and be happy. You have to let go. Be rid of the toxic, morn, and move toward a brighter future. Accept that positive things can be yours. If you are brave, and if you want it badly enough, I’m thinking it might all work out for the best.