I'm feeling better than I did on the weekend. Sometimes, often?, I find life overwhelming. My coping skills have improved over the years, believe it or not, but still I struggle. I cry a lot when I talk about things that are difficult to deal with, so I write. Not only does writing get the thoughts out of my head but it helps me to see things more clearly as well.
My life sounds like a soap opera at times and I feel like I only complain but that's only a part of me. I have love, I have security, I have joy and I have hugs. I am thankful for all that I have in my life but I also go down rabbit holes of worry. I know I'm not the only one who does this and right now the world is filled with anxiety and fatigue.
The big guy keeps telling me to stop worrying about the world, to concentrate on home, on myself. I don't have control over much in the world, none of us do. And I try to do this, I honestly do and then it gets away from me.
But I'm a work in progress. I do good things and bad things, I can be empathetic and narrow minded, I can be judgmental and charitable, I can be loving and cruel. One of the women I work with who has two children, the same age as my oldest son, believes she is a bad person because she doesn't see her children, because she set boundaries, because she won't allow them to abuse her. I feel the same way. It goes against everything we're taught about motherhood. Neither of us are bad people and we are convinced we are because of the actions of others.
So I fall down and then I get back up again. I fail and then I try again because not trying would feel like death. I have such a hard time accepting my faults, being kind to myself, forgiving myself for all the stupid shit I do or say or will do. I am far kinder to others than I am to myself and I have to wonder why.
So it continues, this livelong learning, accepting, forgiving, loving thing that I need, want, to do.
This weekend the big guy and are heading back down to Waterton to take photos. The fireweed should be blooming about now. We will take a break from work and family and obligations and spend some time wandering around a burnt out forest that is regenerating itself. Now there's a metaphor for my life.
I feel like a terrible mother, a terrible person. I don't trust my son who has lied to me for the past twenty plus years. He lies about everything. And if I do talk to him, he thinks all is forgiven and that we should just carry on as if nothing that has happened in the past twenty years, actually happened. There are no apologies, no changes in behavior, no improvements, just more of the same. I close myself off, afraid of the pain.
It breaks me over and over again.
Gracie and my hubby don't understand how it feels for me to dislike my own son. I don't disagree with what they say about him but it does feel like a knife to my heart sometimes when they talk about him and his lies.
I don't want to be in the middle of this. This protection order, child support, child visitation cluster fuck that makes me the point man or woman. I've been crying off and on today, trying to breathe and get out of my brain ruts with only limited success.
We went to the spray park with the little guy which was lovely and made me smile, watching children playing, enjoying life.
I wonder what I did wrong with my son and I blame myself. I know it's not true but it feels true and I tend to be overly responsible. I've taken care of other people all my life, or at least since I was twelve and my sister left her husband and moved in with us, bringing along her two year old son with her. I took care of my sister's children when her husband was too drunk to care for them. I've taken care of my own children and still take care of Miss Katie. I took care of both of my parents as they aged and then died. Now I'm taking care of my grandson who is the only bright spot in my life some days.
I could say I'm tired, and I am, but it's more than that. I feel caught, stuck between Scylla and Charybdis.
I also tend to think that how things are right now is how they will always be, even with the knowledge that this is not true, I still think it. I remember when Katie was little it felt like my life would always be about her and her needs. And it was for a long time but not forever.