Catching up...

It amazes me sometimes how quickly time passes and how much time has passed since I last reflected on the craziness of my life. A lot has changed, but the wheel keeps turning and life keeps happening.

This year has been a struggle, but for the first time in a long time, it's been a struggle in the right direction.

I went back to work in February of this year and reminded myself how much I love to be productive and helpful. The past month or so has been stressful, because I was hired as a temporary employee, but they would like to keep me as a permanent employee. Unfortunately, it's a nonprofit organization which is limited by a very tight budget (aren't they all?) and a board of directors with some big decisions to make. So, our five kinds of krazy are hunkered down waiting to see if I remain employed.

Digging Through the Aftermath

Life with an addict is tough. I've been fortunate enough not to have ever had to live with one, but unfortunately, my children are not so lucky. For two years, my step children have lived with us while their mother spiraled out of contol drinking herself into near comas to escape whatever pain she was feeling. At 11 years old, my daughter was taking care of her little brother, making sure he was fed, bathed, and off to school on time. They've made comments about stepping around their mother while she was 'sleeping' on the floor to pop a hot dog in the microwave for breakfast. I could elaborate, but they're not in that situation anymore, and that part isn't relevant to their experience today.

Today, their mother disappointed them yet again.

The past several weeks have been a series of missed visits and phone calls. When this happens, the kids automatically assume Mom's back in rehab. But this time was different.

8 Reasons We May Not Have Spoken In a While

I’ve been off the grid for many of my friends and family for a while now and it occurs to me that many of them probably don’t know why. 

I’m not being a bitch. I’m not ignoring you. I’m not angry at you. I haven’t moved on to “other friends.”

I’m struggling.

It’s really that simple. 

When I’m struggling, I huddle the wagons, focus on the issues in front of me and only on the issues in front of me. I don’t reach out to other people. My problems are not their problems. My situation should not be someone else’s burden. So I withdraw instead of advertising the issues.

If I’ve been incommunicado, one of these is most likely the reason:

OMG, We Are THAT Family!

A few days ago, I sat with a group of parents chatting about their lives and the challenges of raising kids. Several of us have teenagers, so the conversation naturally turned to the enormous amount of food a teenager can consume is a relatively short amount of time. We all laughed and joked about the cost. Then someone commented about “those people” who get SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) benefits.

Thus began a diatribe of judgmental opinions openly accusing “those people” of using “our hard-earned tax dollars” to buy lobster and steak instead of spending wisely. Of using their benefits card to purchase alcohol and cigarettes instead of actual food. Of making more money selling drugs on a street corner than the rest of us working a real job, then taking advantage of the system because they can.

Those little moments.

          Most of my posts are about some pretty heavy stuff. That's because most of the stuff our family deals with everyday gets pretty heavy. We have five kinds of crazy in the house and borrow new kinds from other people almost daily. It's exhausting sometimes, but it's always interesting.

          This weekend we had a perfect family moment. 

          My husband and I have started pointing these out to each other so we never risk missing one. They are rare and precious, especially after a particularly hard week. They may only last a few minutes, or like Saturday, they can last several hours. It is vital to our family that we recognize them and appreciate them when they happen. 

Daddy Issues

          Today, I found out the man I grew up calling "Daddy" passed away from lung cancer over the weekend. I received the information in a private message on Facebook, because the person who told me did not know another way to reach me. I read and re-read the message waiting for some emotion to surface and claim me, but none came. 

          Some may say I was numb. Bad news does that to some people. They hear something so tragic or sad that their emotional center shuts down and they feel nothing. Until later, of course, when the emotional flood gates burst and the many stages of grief start wrestling for their rightful place in your subconscious.

          But this wasn't that. 

          I didn't feel numb. I just felt nothing.

TGMDIO (Thank God Mother's Day is Over!)

It is no secret to anyone who knows me well that I hate this holiday. 

Almost as much as I hate Christmas (but that's for a different rant.) 

Mother's Day is the one day a year when I am acutely aware of every short-coming I have as a Mom. I was 16 when I first became a mother, although I was 15 when I discovered I would become one. I was young enough to believe that I would be better at it than my mother. The mother who never let me forget she took me in and made me her own (I was adopted at age 2) when "no one else wanted me." The mother who affectionately explained to my 5 year old self how my brown eyes announced to everyone around me that I could not be my blue-eyed mother and my green-eyed father's "real" daughter. That they had been kind enough to take me in. The mother who, in a fit of anger because I had put my socks in the wrong drawer, nearly broke my nose when she struck me.