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.

What kind of mother ARE you? Make a #Mommitment.

What kind of mother are you? 

          I hear this phrase on a continuous loop running through the back of my head. I imagine I hear it every time I’m at the grocery store with my children, attending a school function, or herd my kids onto the bus for their therapy appointments. No matter what other people think of me, I know deep down I’m my own worst critic.

          These feelings of being judged stem from my own insecurities coupled with the current trend of women quite vocally expressing their opinions about other women’s parenting.

          Let me let you (and me) in on a little secret.

          It’s okay to disagree. We don’t all need to parent the exact same way, because we don’t all have the exact same kids, lifestyle, income, or needs. There is no simple answer. We are complicated people attempting to raise complicated people in a complicated world. It’s messy and chaotic, loud and hyperactive. Because, so is life.

          So, the next time I’m asked, “What kind of mother are you,” here is my response…

The difference between apologizing and saying "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

Two simple words we teach our children to use when they make a mistake. The implication being those two words will make it all better.

"I'm sorry."

Make sure you say it whenever you hurt someone's feelings, or break a toy. Say, "I'm sorry" if you bump into them and knock them down.

"I'm sorry."

Anytime you need to excuse your actions, make sure you say these two magic words.

After a while, those two words no longer have meaning. They no longer make things better and they no longer excuse your mistakes.

Irrational Fear

A parent's worst nightmare is the fear that something will take a child away from them. There are volumes of books, movies, and news reports to prove this is not just an irrational fear, but has its roots in a horrible reality. I don't know about you, but my past experiences combined with our current situation has given me a finely-honed paranoia about losing one of my children.

No parent ever wants to see their child's picture
on a poster like this.

Yesterday, this paranoia was triggered when, half an hour after the school bus was supposed to have dropped him off, our 10-year-old son still was not home from school. His bus stop is just four houses from us, and he likes the independence of walking home by himself instead of having us meet him there. 

A "Real" Parent

This statement always resonates with me, no matter how many times I hear it. 

It also triggers my guilt.

Twenty years ago, I had two small children I was not taking care of. I had left them in their father's custody and essentially walked away.

There were so many reasons why I did it, not all of them conscious. I was conflicted and ashamed of who I was and couldn't bear to have such little people dependent on me when I could barely figure out how to just be.

How I got here and other bizarre stories.

The "Other Mother" from Coraline

I have spent the majority of my life being the "other mother," both to my biological children and to my step-children. My therapist says I was, "the mother I was then, so I could be the mother I am now," but most of the time, I feel like I'm wavering between over-confidence and over-whelming guilt.

I first became a mother at 16 years old. I was a naive child ignorant of how the real world functioned. I grew up sheltered in the 80s by parents who had grown up in the 40s. To say there was a generation gap is to put it mildly. I can't describe in one go what my childhood was like, but I can give you the highlights. The rest will surface as needed when it pertains to the events in my life.

Yes, I'll Clean Up Your Mess...Again.

When your children's mother is an alcoholic, it means you spend a good portion of your time dealing with the aftermath of that person's mistakes. 

Again. And again. And again. 

This week we've swung around to repeat the cycle yet again. It's frustrating and exhausting. And most of the time we feel more reactive than proactive. 

Getting the kids settled and stable after their mother's drinking binges left them dirty, unfed and neglected has been challenging. Neither of them fully trusts adults to do what they promise or to be there when they need them.