Survive, Live, Thrive Update

What I’ve been doing since March:

• Little sister disclosed that her father’s temper scares her.
• Little sister disclosed how her father hurt her “this one time” when he threw a book at her and left a ‘red mark.’
• Little sister drew pictures of dad yelling at her because she spilled water.  He has wings and a tail and she is crying.
• Play therapist says this does not rise to the level of reporting abuse.
• Play therapist says I do not want to have an overworked, underpaid social worker making decisions about my family.
• We’ve created code words for little sister to use.  Let’s say it’s watermelon
• One watermelon is dad hurts my feelings, two watermelons is that it’s really bad, three watermelons is that I really need you to do something about it, mom. L
• Little sister says she feels relieved that it’s “not a secret anymore” and also makes us promise not to tell him. 
• Play therapist and I reinforce with little sister that dad’s decisions are about dad and they are not her fault.
• Over the summer we meet regularly with the play therapist and little sister says she wants to handle the watermelons by herself.
• I still check in from time to time about watermelons though, she shares a few more stories and another picture at play therapy.  It’s a picture of dad yelling at her and she’s standing there with a sad face, but in her mind ‘bubble’ she’s thinking about playing with her friends.  
• This has brought up a ton of PTSD for me and have been seeking therapy support to process it all and cope with the disclosures.
• I discover from big sisters texting that dad called big sister a fucking asshole because she is beating him at super smash bros.  Great, really great.  She’s venting to her friend but after all caps venting, she finishes with: okay, bye.
• I’m kind of awed and impressed by all of the colorful language big sister used, at first she used asterisks, like F*ck, but by the end, all words were in all cap and spelled out.
• Before extended dad vacation, both sisters forgot prescription toothpaste that they need to use per dentist’s orders and were scheduled to see the dentist the day after they returned.  Ex refused to meet me for three days, so I finally dropped it off at his house, per my attorney’s advice.
• Ex yelled at in the street:  “You’re trespassing!”  To which I responded, “The kids need to use their toothpaste once a day, Bye!” And then got into my car, cried and drove away.
• Attorney told me I could change the parenting time.  I decide to pursue, at least to see what the options are, but do not want to re-litigate and will only move forward if there's a guarantee I can improve parenting time.
• After analyzing details of the case, attorney realized it’s not a slam dunk.
• Sort this out in therapy, but really, decided to be peace with not seeking further litigation.  Just glad I have a badA$$ attorney who will defend me if the ex and his girlfriend with deep pockets ever tries any litigation. (Best offense is a good defense).
• Hanging in there as best as I can.

  

Good things I’ve done during the pandemic

• Learning about big sister’s love for anime and marathon watching it with the girls.
• Taking both of the girls surfing for the first time—each on their own time, and seeing them love it!
• Staycation because no tourists in town and enjoying the peace and quiet and fun of family time away from the house.
• Walking our doggie G every day for a mile.
• Cooking little sister breakfast every morning and sitting and eating breakie and lunch together, because teleworking.
• Linking volunteer attorneys giving free legal advice to folks who are trying to access the family court system and don’t have an attorney.
• Surfing myself and having an Instagram photographer capture a photo!
• Watching:  The Last Kingdom and The Umbrella Academy on Netflix for escape.  (I didn’t realize that I’d be so bloodthirsty in Last Kingdom, LOL!)

What a Bright Time, It's the Right Time

Fahoo Fores Dahoo Dores

All is quiet on the co-parenting front, dare I say, all is calm, and all is bright?*  Yes, with an asterisk. LOL.

Tomorrow, DD2 will be performing in her school winter songfest, and in the spirit of the holiday season, I invited her only living grandmother who is estranged from the girls' dad.  I also printed out and enlarged a picture I took of her and the girls, bought a frame, and along with the Christmas goodies we are going to bake next week, am planning to drop off to her with the girls on Christmas Eve. 

The girls step-nana is also in town for the holiday season, so there’s lot of love in our house this week!  I’m working one more day and then taking next week off from work and can’t wait to hang out with the fam and just do all my favorite holiday things:  baking, gift wrapping, hosting the girls great-cookie-baking-for-santa sleepover—three friends for DD1 have come over for the past seven years and at least one for DD2 for the last few, watching how the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966 cartoon version, please) and Mickey’s Christmas Carol.  Then we pick a Christmas feature movie to watch and then the girls settle into a long winter’s nap (likely full of giggling and ipad/iphone games, lol, oh well).  I’ll be sure to post pics of our baking creations!

I also convinced DD1 to speak at the Christmas Eve service—she’ll be narrating some of the verses related to the birth of Baby Jesus, so adorable and cute, while the little ones act out in the pageant!  And I’m hoping that will be incentive for DD2 to dress up as an angel with the other kids her age.  They grow up so fast—DD1 would just roll her eyes if I asked her if she was going dress up as an angel.  Let’s hope DD2 can carry it on for a while longer.

Last minute Christmas shopping/food list:

Confectioner’s sugar (icing)

Food coloring (icing)

Rolled oats

Brown sugar

Sprinkles

Mini pretzels

That white bark that melts (from Walmart) to dip pretzels

Wax paper

More sprinkles

Call the butcher for rib roast cut, rib roasts go on sale on Sunday, yippee!

Frozen green beans

French’s onions

Cream of mushroom soup

Stuffing supplies: onion, bread cubes, butter

Eggs

Bacon

(because who doesn’t need eggs and bacon on a Christmas morning while opening presents)?

And don’t forget the sprinkles!

Just tucking in for the last stretch of holiday activity.  I honestly love this time of year and all the lights and the music and the songs.  Last year I really struggled, likely because the Christmas week the girls were with their dad, and also because the loss of my mom in early 2018 still hit so hard.  I still feel that grief but it’s not paralyzing like it was before.  And it’s fun to have family in the house all together.

My Christmas wish is for peace and tranquility—amongst all the chaos going on in the world, being still and letting the love shine through.  Sometimes I feel like we are so tiny, our problems so small in this big giant world, that it’s good to take a deep breath and remember that in the grand scheme of the universe, our troubles can and will pass.  Be like water and let ourselves flow on our path to healing.

*p.s. after much back and forth with all the parties involved with our case—attorneys, former attorneys, therapists, my trusted family and friends, I decided the best course of action was to let the ex know that in the spirit of the holiday season I had invited his mom to DD2’s school winter performance. I mentioned that he may have heard that his mom came to a tennis match last month and the girls enjoyed their afternoon with her and that I’m hoping to include her in the future when it’s convenient for her.  I figure this is worded in a simple and kind way—and out of caution that he can’t claim he didn’t know about it.  Now I hold my breath and hope he doesn’t rage and take it out on DD2 or DD1 when they are with him this week end.  Here’s to a Christmas wish that they are protected from his negativity.

p.p.s. Despite all of this struggle and psychological ‘warfare’ for lack of a better word that I live with, I came to an epiphany the other day—that while the divorce outcome didn’t result in harsher measures to keep the girls “safer,” I realized that in the end, it did ensure their safety in ways that I couldn’t have imagined earlier. 

Because he treasures his ‘face’ more than anything, he cannot physically hurt the children (or me) anymore, because he would look bad.  The world is watching, and even if he’s faking his father of the year face, at the very least, being forced to behave well is what’s the most important, way more important, than ‘winning’ a case.  He dare not lay a finger on them, as he knows the world is watching.

I just wish there was a way to help him regulate his emotions and psychological manipulations, whether purposeful or a side effect of his own traumas and injuries, they impact the girls (and me) in ways I wish they wouldn’t.

This is why I had that * at the beginning of the post.

----

Okay, back to the drawing board. 

As the folks in Who-Ville say, welcome Christmas, come this way!  Christmas Day is in our grasp, so long as we have hands to clasp.

Thanksgiving: A Story of Grandma Love (and the Ex who has a problem with it)

(Grandma Love: credit)

With my mom passing in 2018, I was thinking more and more about the girls’ grandmother (ex husband’s mother) over the last year—grandma J was always very nice to me and just loved the girls, but during the divorce she had to pick a side, which I always understood.  I also know she was troubled by my ex’s behavior, she shared with me a few times about it, but he was a bully, and when the legal stuff came down, she stood by him.  After all, he was living with her at the time and who knows what he was saying to her about me (my hunch, she’ll take the kids and you’ll never see the girls). 

Last year, I heard through the grapevine that grandma had asked my ex to leave her home, as the conflict between him and his older brother was too stressful for my former mother in law (apparently this happened soon after my mom had passed away).  Given my ex’s difficulty with anger, this was not a surprise to me, but also weirdly validating that finally, after all these years, grandma J was standing her ground and asking for a peaceful house.  That house had seen so much anger and violence through the years with my ex’s father’s alcoholism and anger outbursts before he passed in the late 90s.  In hindsight, it’s clear how he inherited them, and how his family dynamic was set in stone…

Over the years, I’ve thought of Grandma J and the girls’ Uncle (he went on record during the legal proceedings, stating that his brother had an anger problem and he feared for the girls’ safety—the one person who said anything), and missed them.  I understood they had to be divided from me.  In the beginning of post-divorce life, I tried to reach out for the girls’ sake, but the ex stepped in, demanding how “dare” I contact his mom.  So instead, I did do small things—i.e. every Christmas, I wondered if the treats that the girls made ever made it through to them when he lived there.  Last year, after I learned he moved out, the girls and I made our own short visit to drop off home made cookies and goodies at the holidays.

And when DD1 made her school tennis team last year, I called and had a nice chat with Grandma about the girls; and once, when DD2 was sick, I asked Grandma to watch her, when the Ex couldn’t (the rules say under certain conditions, I have to ask him first), and that was so nice!

So after talking some more with my therapist this year, I decided that when DD1 made her tennis team again (yay, DD1!), I would call again.  And the beauty of this year’s tennis season—there’s Saturday matches scheduled.  That meant if Grandma was open to it, I could invite her to come along with us and she could watch her granddaughter play.  I contacted both Grandma J and quietly asked DD1’s coaches if she would be playing and they said yes!  So once all was confirmed, the girls and I picked up grandma and off we went, to have a wonderful afternoon together.  I happened to be on team snack duty, so after we dropped DD1 early for pre-match practice,  DD2, Grandma, and I went to run errands and pick up snacks.

When we returned, we unfortunately learned that DD1 *wasn’t* going to play—at the other team’s request, they asked to keep our stronger players off the court, as they were mostly beginners, so in the spirit of sportsmanship our coaches agreed (which I think was good role modeling for the girls).  We spent the afternoon waiting for the rain to come and go, grandma at least got to watch DD1 play an exhibition with her teammate, then it was time to pass out snacks and then I took a picture of the girls with their grandma, and we headed back home. 

On the way home, teenager DD1 actually said, “thank you for coming with us today, grandma j” and DD2 chimed in, too.  And when we dropped her off, they gave her big hugs and as we drove away, DD2 was hollering out the window:  I LOVE YOU GRANDMA J!! 

Me:  Heart swoon.

We were mere minutes away when Grandma called me, she had forgotten to give me a card she said—so we circled back.  She handed me a card and meanwhile little sister repeated her hugs and hollering and off we went back to our day.  I was really happy.

And then I opened the envelope---

A letter from my ex’s older brother, who I had barely spoken to in 8 years—and my jaw dropped and the tears just started streaming.  There are three takeaways from the letter:

1  -  He thanked me so much and was so happy about my including his mom on today’s outing.

2  -  His “ass brother” won’t let his mom see the kids and it’s been like this for a long time; she’s bought gifts for them and they have sat there for weeks, until she’s accepted that he and the girls aren’t going to drop by and pick them up.  And this situation is so hard on her.

3  -  He hopes that I can include her in the future.

My heart about burst with sadness.  I knew my ex is vindictive, and I knew he could be this difficult.  But to be so mean to keep our daughters from having a relationship with their grandmother makes me cry so hard.  I’m getting teary just writing down these words.

But I sat with the letter for a little while, and then I couldn’t keep it in.  I didn’t know what to do with it.  I shared it with my hubby, just because I was so hurt about it.  Then I shared it with my attorney, the girls play therapist, and with my therapist.  Because I need a village to help me deal with all the feelings this brought up. 

-----

Attorney:  This is so SAD and MEAN, and she thinks I should include both grandma and uncle for the holidays and into the future! 

Play Therapist:  Well, the rule is that anything that involves the ex and the ex’s family should come from the girls.  They know there is a price to defying him and to ask the girls how important it is to have occasional contact with their grandma.  The thought of that defying cost needs to be factored into anything that I decide.  Also, if they want to have contact, to let the Ex know.

My therapist:  The way the girls reacted showed that they wanted Grandma with them and they are bonded with her, and that I did the right thing to include her.  The abusive Ex shouldn’t dictate or keep the girls from having a relationship with their grandma.

Me:  I think I did the right thing, but did I?  Crying at the sadness of this situation and also second guessing myself.  And then I think about how my mom loved spending time with the girls, how she was here very year until her Parkinsons’ got so bad she couldn’t travel (DD2’s first birthday party was her last visit).  And then the ensuing years when we would visit her, no matter how badly her Parkinsons affected her, she would plan these fun schemes with the girls in mind—visiting Mammoth Cave, or roadtripping to see family, or making sun prints with leaves and special paper outside of her assisted living porch.  She would give anything to have more time with the girls.  I think she’s watching them from heaven, too.

Regarding the price:  that evening, I overheard the girls’ phone conversation with their dad, who didn’t sound happy we included grandma j, prompting DD1 to declare it was ‘weird.’  And when I followed up with her afterwards, she said it *is* weird, I’m divorced from grandma’s son.  And I responded, I understood it seems weird… it’s just that grandma j is the nicest lady on the planet, and it’s okay that grandma j and mom are nice to each other, and we are her family.  She grumbled a bit, but then we were off to a dinner event with our friends, which turned out to be great fun (lots of laughter and silliness ensued).

I did quietly share with two of my closer friends on the side at this dinner—who’ve known about our situation for years and who’ve supported DD1 with our complicated divorce situation, they reinforced that the girls absolutely need to include grandma.  And one mom said, so what if it’s weird?  Just tell her, hey, what family *isn’t* weird these days?  LOL.

So on the way home, I reinforced with the girls that their grandma is their family, that i am their mom and also their family, and it’s ok that we are friends . That I didn’t realize they didn’t see her too much, and it’s ok to see her sometimes with mom, because she’s always been nice to me and I’ve been nice to her, that I didn’t know what was up between her and dad, but she’s still their grandma.  DD1 says it will probably feel weird and I said it’s ok to be weird. That doesn’t mean we aren’t family, and lots of families are weird.  And they seemed to be okay with this, humming and singing along to the music all the way home…

Conclusion-in-Progress:  I wish there was a how-to guide on how to navigate this particular road.  I guess I’m creating the map as I take in all this information.  I’m of the mind that someone needs to be the adult in the room and facilitate a relationship between the girls and their grandma, who is not getting any younger.  She is seriously the nicest lady on the planet, so kind and generous, and she seemed so thankful have this time.  And Uncle’s letter just validated that need to be included.

At the same time, I feel more cautious, considering what the play therapist said.  I vacillate between—outrage that he would be so cruel to his mom and also deny the girls time with his mom, and then worrying how this will impact the girls, grandma, and me.  Deep down my intuition tells me to keep finding small ways to include her, to keep the bridge open, the girls deserve to have grandma in their lives, even just a little bit.

So what is the price?  Is it too high for a grandma to love her granddaughters, and for her granddaughters to love her back?  I wish I knew better what to do.

Having just watched Frozen 2 (along with a million dollars worth of other people, lol), I think at this point, since I don’t know the way, I’ll keep choosing what I think is the next right thing to do.

Happy Thanksgiving.

p.s. I miss my mom.

Trigger Warning

Lightning

Triggers, by nature, are symbols of pain that prick at the surface and reverberate deep down into our very core of pain.  I think of it as a needle so long that it can pierce from head to toe.  Sometimes I’m paralyzed, other times pumped full of adrenaline—literally in split-second limbo of do I fight or flight or just melt down. 

Sometimes they pull up memories that are re-lived.  In detail, word-for-word, thought-for-thought, shame-hurt-helpless fear-helpless rage.  Sometimes they recall sensory memories, touch, sight, sound, smell.  Sometimes they flit in and out so fast they’re barely registered, like a familiar odor that passes by on the breeze and then is gone.  Other times, a tidal wave, drowning out everything in sight.

I’m used to navigating them.  I’m used to the familiar roadmarks, signs, warnings, and upside down cones that mark danger.  But just because we are aware of them, doesn’t always make them easier to live through. 

I can’t line them up in order of how to tackle them, especially the non-verbal sensory memories.  But I can try and make sense of them when they’re washing in with the tide.

It’s no use closing my eyes and wishing and hoping they will just go away.  Like my youngest daughter who gets bad dreams sometimes, and just wants me to lie down with her.  My sweet little sis, waking up in her bed, scared.  That was me as a child, too, tiptoeing out of my bed and just hoping my mom wouldn’t wake up and let me sleep at the foot of the bed.  Because only her room was the safe spot from the nameless fear I had back then.  So I can relate when DD2 has her bad dreams, too.

And that’s me, as an adult, suffering from insomnia, because of the trauma of the divorce.  How I long to be able to sleep through the night like I did years ago.

My ex is being “extra” these days.  He is holding onto his power and control and keeping our extended summer time hostage, because he can.  I reached out to the play therapist and co-parenting counselor for advice.  And finally, the attorney.  The attorney wants to write a letter.  Because that’s what attorneys do, but I know that will only cause him to dig deeper.  The co-parenting counselor we've seen over the years isn’t versed in domestic violence and does not have any conducive advice. She equates us both in her mind; which is akin to saying its “both sides’” faults when looking at a white supremacist inflicting violence by driving a car into protesters marching against racism.  It’s not ‘both sides’ when one is running over people in a crowd. (p.s. it’s taken me a week end to unpack that trigger).  And even if she was trained in DV, i'm not sure what she could do.

The play therapist has more understanding—but unfortunately, her help is--soon the kids will be 18 and you won’t have to be hostage to this type of thinking anymore.  At least she recognizes the power dynamic, even though she can’t do anything about it.

My coping mechanisms then—are:

1) writing about it and also /eyerolling about it instead of crumbling about it,

2) finding compassion for myself...and for him, wishing him free from suffering (compassion meditation, I'm trying something new),

3) therapy, lots of therapy, and 

4) doing my best to zen out and work around him.  I have to remember--I'll figure it out, I always do.  I’ll figure this one out eventually, too.

But the triggers, I’m back to the triggers of what it is to deal with him.  The world gives him a pass because he has a job and can be charming and educated.  That’s the world I live in.  I can create my world, but I still live in his—where he exerts control when he can, because he can, where my shortcomings are a laundry list that in his eyes victimize him.  The world where he never takes responsibility for the violence inflicted in my home.  The world where it’s okay for him to do all that he did and walk away with his power and control.

Those are the triggers I live with.  And I have to figure out how to transform them into lifting me up instead of holding me down.

I guess sometimes it’s okay to cry.  I’ll get to strength and love and light at some point.

Will I always be living with trauma?

(trauma)

First of all, Happy Birthday to my DD2!  She had a birthday this past week and when I put together pictures from when she was a baby until now, firmly settled into elementary school, I honestly can’t believe how fast time has flown.  I am so grateful that she is a bouncing, lively, loving, kind, hilarious, energetic kid full of love and laughter for the world.  (And also, how long I was doing the single mom thing and divorced parent and re-married world since she was one.  It’s mind boggling!!)

Despite learning that my ex is seemingly in a happier place with his new girlfriend—it is long distance, which I’m sure has its challenges—he has been quite “extra” lately.  Nitpicking every other email, demanding certain time sharing requirements, then when I ask for the same type of time sharing, responding that it’s a huge accommodation and he’ll have to think about it.  He spends a lot of time documenting all of my shortcomings.  And stressing out the girls about having to wait an hour for DD2’s birthday pizza and then refusing to take it and going to a different pizza place (meanwhile poor DD2 is hungry, it’s 8pm when they call me about it all), or telling the girls that they live in a ‘shack’ and so the girls come home telling me they live in a shack and DD2 is especially concerned about daddy not having enough money.  (You know, because they just flew first class to take a vacation over the break.)

In the midst of this, DD2 was sick and had to miss school.  I always wish that if DD2 is sick, it will be on mom time, so as to be less stress, no back and forth, she can just rest in peace.  However because a dad day fell within her sickness time, she had to embark on the back and forth, the texts/emails that come in demanding to know every single detail of temperature and the level down to the decimal.  (Of course when I inquired of her temperature he never responded.  /eyeroll).

Dealing with this crap is just the pits.  I was explaining it to someone who works in the field of child victims and witnesses of violent crime:  it just never ends.  I haven’t ‘escaped’ an abusive marriage.  I am joined to the hip with this person and constantly negotiating and unpacking the emotional baggage that he foists on them his implied version of all the things that I do wrong and my shortcomings (he’s crafty and doesn’t come out and say mom is awful, just mom should do this or that) and his worries about money and his emotional needs, and still being neutral and supporting them in their relationship with their dad, helping them know their feelings are their feelings and not their dad’s…it’s constant triggering, constant, constant, constant.

Will I always be living with trauma? 

Completely separate from these musings, I was reading a random, Y/A Garth Nix novel, and in it, one of the characters lost a ton of blood.  The character is unable to stand or walk.  And I suddenly remembered the night after DD2 was born, I tried to get up and remember walking slowly to the bathroom in our hospital room.  I was lightheaded—and then I remember feeling so relaxed and going toward this soft, white light and I couldn’t wait to open the door, I knew there were people waiting for me.  But something told me to turn around, and so I told the light, hang on, I’ll be right back.

The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital bed blinking into the faces of seven or eight people—the on call resident, nurses, and who knows who else.  I’d fainted due to hemorrhaging and blood loss, and while they caught it in time and had it temporarily under control, the next morning they had to excavate my womb for bits of placenta and after birth so I would stop bleeding (which was excruciatingly painful--they couldn’t give any pain meds and basically the nurse stuck her arm up my wahoo and dug out with her gloved hands the remains!  Sounds fun, right!  I would scream because it was the only way to live through the pain).  Anyway, they were mulling over whether or not I should get a blood transfusion, as whatever that number you’re supposed to be at, I was right on the in between.  (this is why birth is no joke, even though we make plenty of jokes about it, and why modern medicine, for all its bad rep for costs, etc, saves lives all the damn time, because if this had happened in the good old little house on the prairies days, you know this mama would have croaked).

Two days later, I was released to go home, along with a warning on how fatigued I would be due to the blood loss, and it would take 4-6 weeks to get my red blood count back up and energy level would be low until then.

And I remembered, with clarity, how awful and jerky the ex husband was to me after we got home.  The big dramatic sighs it was to ‘take care’ of me, by going up and down the stairs to bring me water or food.  Or when we ventured out into the world to pick up my medicine from the pharmacy (including lots of iron!), he parked at the parking spot far away from the door in order to protect the car from potential scratches (because, you know, someone might park like a jerk and hit our car with their car door), making the walk inside that much farther and more difficult for me.  The dramatic sighing if I said I was tired.  All while I was taking care of a newborn who was waking up every 2-3 hours to nurse, and also big sister who was 3.  Losing his temper and yelling at DD1 or stomping around for whatever he decided he was pissed off about (usually my mom, who was staying with us for a few weeks after DD2 was born).  My mom tried to talk to me about his awful behavior, but I wouldn’t hear it at the time.  I was too busy trying to keep the family “together” and relegated my mom’s observations as just over-worried and not understanding the pressure the ex was under in becoming a father times 2 (remembering “the dark time” of when DD1 was born). 

I realize this is a long drawn out description of something from years and years ago, but this is why I wonder if I will always live with trauma.  I was reading a completely random book, and got triggered into this crazy memory.  Honestly, describing it in writing is longer than it took for all of these thoughts to flit through my brain…

I’m going to therapy later today, because healing is a marathon.  Maybe I will always live with trauma, but hopefully I don’t have to be ruled by it.  Today is a good day—I’m not paralyzed with frustration like I was last week.  I don’t have to wear this familiar pain like a blanket.  It’s time to cast it off, damn it.  I can’t help that it keeps coming around, because I have to keep dealing with him on a regular basis.

When I’m enveloped by the triggers, especially the EXTRA emails/texts from him, at times I can be flooded with stress, uncertainty, fear.  Yet, I’ve always navigated through the difficulties in the past. I have to remember that I’ll navigate through them again.  That those momentary paralyzing moments will pass.  It’s hard to remember when you’re in them, though.

So I’ll go back to that mantra—I may live with trauma, but I don’t have to be ruled by it.  Here’s to hope and healing and living a better life.

Letter to my Divorce Little Sister

Image

Dear Lil Sis contemplating divorce (who is actually me 8 years ago),

Right now, you are living in unbearable conditions.  One moment, everything is good and loving, filled with laughter and joy. The next it’s furious screaming and yelling and swearing and knocking over your toddler daughter and choking your dog that you will eventually give away under the guise of “not being able to take care of it in the new house.” The man you are with is not the man you thought he was, or wish him to be, no matter how hard you try from the very bottom of your heart to support and love him, to understand him, to show him love and kindness.  He may love you, but he is injured somehow and you are not his cure.  He is his cure and he has decided not to work on it, no matter the lovely things he says when he apologizes to you in the middle of the night.  You know this, because he is also yelling and spitting on you. And you fear it is only going to get worse, because it has gotten worse, after it got “better,” your baby number two is triggering the same violent and more violent responses from him.  He is not following up with actions to back up what he has said so eloquently in words.

Divorce will bring out a lot of strength in you, but before it does, it will bring out a lot of fear and insecurity as much as it brings out trust and hope for a better life.  It will bring out hypervigilance and second guessing, it will bring out the fear of not being believed which will also be tempered by the belief in what is right.  It will bring out every penny you never knew you had, and you will borrow money and time and emotional space from your loved ones in ways you never knew you could and you will feel ashamed for it but at the same time so desperate to secure the safety of your kids you pray they will forgive you and that one day you’ll forgive yourself.  (And one day, you may pay it a tiny bit forward by buying groceries for another single mom without batting an eye, or paying a filing fee for a TRO for someone else and when they try and pay you back, you kindly refuse and remind them that you are doing this for them because you remember what it felt like and if this small thing can make it easier for them to breathe than that is the only thanks you need and that you actually wish you were a lottery winner so you could do way more than that).

But mostly, once the battle has been “won” so to speak, when you are rising from the ashes of the court appearances and supervised visitation and a final order granting you custody although because he is a career man they will not grant you full legal custody, at least you know you’ve secured some measure of safety for them.  You will realize that you have to still go on with life and parenting and working at your job and being the consummate professional, while at the same time trying to figure out how to coparent with someone who seems to hate you (although you know it’s really about his hurt and anger about himself and his circumstances and the very upsetting circumstances of his alcoholic, abusive father) and who blames you for everything wrong in the world, someone who never hesitates to find some opening to criticize you and bring you down and pretend to the world that he is a perfect human being and you are the crazy one.  You will be exhausted at this point.

This is really the crux of what I’m trying to write to you, after years and years of therapy, maybe you can prepare yourself for what’s to come.   Because while the divorce ends a lot of the worst things about your life such as living with your abuser and the access that he has to your physical and emotional space, it is not the “cure” of the many things that you will have to face, because your daughters, while protected as much as they can be, are experiencing him in ways that worry you.  The court process and “victory” is not a victory in the sense that everyone walks away with their better life—it’s better but it’s complicated.

Here are some the things you may have to face:

1)      You will have to stay in regular communication with the person who intimidated and scared you.  Emails and texts that pop up will trigger a PTSD response that on good days, you’ll feel strong and tough enough that they won’t bother you, but on bad days, will  make you feel like you’re two inches or smaller.

2)      When your girls are reluctant to speak with you on the phone because they are with him, because daddy says we don’t see him as much and to not talk long with mommy, or come home and wonder about how come “poor daddy” says this or does that--you have to figure out how to support your daughters in their love for their father but also how to correct untruths about you and your situation.

3)      With Number 2, it’s more about taking the conversation away from dad or mom, and focusing on a third party, i.e. the ‘judge makes the rules” and mommy and daddy have to follow the rules, like you have to follow the rules that your teachers make for kids at school.  This eases the burden of having them feel like they have to defend what dad says or defend what mom says, at least, that is the hope.

4)      When they come home telling stories about how daddy doesn’t let us talk to uncle (his brother who lives with them), instead of jumping in and saying, that’s horrible!  You have to learn to couch it as, how does that make you feel?  And help them understand their feelings are okay and normal.

5)      Likewise, when they come home saying daddy yells at grandma (his mother who also lives with them), or daddy says he doesn’t have to listen to grandma because he is a grown man, you have to take a deep breath and say something like gosh, how does that make you feel? And when they say it makes them sad or scared, you can say, that wouldn’t make me feel very good either, I wish he wouldn’t do that.   And help them work out their feelings some more.

6)      When you are out at school events and the girls are reluctant to hug you in front of him, just smile and understand that they can’t show too much affection to you at the moment.  It will be difficult to see your daughters reign in their behavior and emotions because they somehow know instinctively that they have to take care of his emotional well-being.  And you will worry if that sets some kind of unhealthy stage and you have to trust that they will learn as they grow older what is healthy through your example and others in their lives.  You have to understand that they love their dad with all of their heart and it’s complicated.

7)      This is why the space you create in your house is so important that they can feel safe to express all emotions and feelings.  This means that as they get older, they have an easier time of letting their hair down—which means more talking back and yucky tween behaviors-- a sign that they feel like they CAN relax and speak their minds and be their whole selves, but also you have to tread with care because you still have to parent and be firm about what is acceptable and unacceptable behavior.

8)      Little sis, in your and my case, we have a whole host of other PTSD and separation anxiety due to our beginnings, so when the girls leave you, coupled with when a stressful event comes up, like losing our only mom that we ever knew, it will be like a tidal wave over an exhausting 1-7.  Because of 1-7 you will wonder if somehow you can lose your babies, that he will brainwash them into not wanting to be with you, and that’s YOUR struggle to unlearn and not give into.  (And it doesn’t help that he is a PITA when trying to plan Mom’s memorial and travel.)

So these are some of the things we have to deal with.  I don’t have a magic wand in solving them, but I do have a list of things that I’ve done that seem to help so far:

1)      Therapy.  Lots of it. 

2)      Exercise, I know, I know, I hate running.  I even resorted to it as an excuse to making sure the dog gets enough exercise.  And as much as you might hate running, or as much as thinking about exercising makes you groan (me, too), I promise you that at least for the 30 – 60  minutes that you’re sweating it out, you are NOT freaking about about 1-8.  You’re too busy trying not to collapse.  And the benefit of this is that you will be healthy and hopefully live longer so you can be there for your kids (that’s the goal).

3)      Spend time with friends if you can.  Drinking tea.  Drinking wine. Stuffing your face with yummy food (good thing you do #2 you can tell yourself). Laughing as much as you can.

4)      Spend time with the hubby, doing similar things, and letting go in the love.  He is a good one.

5)      Take on a project at work—again that sounds crazy as a remedy, but like exercising, it takes the mind off 1-8 and usually you have something to show for it at the end.

6)      Crying is okay.

7)      Wallowing is okay, too, just don’t LIVE there.  (I’m working on that right now, since our mom died a little over a month ago).

8)      If all else fails, FAKE it.  You don’t feel like getting up and going out in the world?  That’s okay, just fake it.  I have a feeling that half the adults in the world are faking it, too.  (I could be wrong, but it makes me feel better.)

9)      There are people that will judge you.  That may even fall for his father of the year and poor me act.  Here’s the thing, if he’s acting like Father of the Year, that’s actually GOOD for the kids.  That is to their benefit.  And people will always be out there judging about things they don’t know, you can’t control that.  It may hurt, and that’s okay.  You know the truth.  Hold your head up high.  Just keep doing the best that you can.

10)   Hug your kids and laugh with them.  When you’re in the grunt of parenthood in the after school rush—dinner, bath, homework, going to bed, take that five minutes when they want to show you something and let it be.  Be in that five minutes.  Remember that this time is fleeting.  That smile and hug or laugh, that’s what this is all for.  That they feel loved by you all day, every day, always and forever.

You say it’s your birthday!

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So…a birthday is coming up—and not one of my children’s or the hub’s, but mine...  I embraced the big 4-0 a while back with gusto, because I was so grateful to be in a different place than where I was before (getting out of an abusive relationship, single mothering and wondering if I was going to lose my home— and by the big 4-0, all the crazy court stuff was OVER and had been for a while).  That birthday was amazing and I'm so grateful!!

Since then, the mom-birthday has been weirdly anticlimactic, or maybe a little complicated...and not because I don’t love a good birthday celebration, I do.  I really do!!  It's important to celebrate milestones along the way of this crazy journey.  I also think that some of my trepidation is that I’m afraid to believe—really believe, that my life is better.  That maybe I’m so used to being in survival mode, in fight or flight and escape the worst case scenario mode, it’s too scary or weirdly difficult to fully embrace the peace.

I read somewhere that we accept the love we think we deserve.  It was a from an aching coming-of-age novel, the Perks of Being a Wallflower that was made into film.  I resonated with the pain.  I’m still learning to trust the healing.

My normal was living in pain, so it’s difficult to trust with peace.  I get that’s the goal, which is why I started therapy in the first place and why I scratched and scrabbled my way out of an unhealthy marriage into a different world.  And I guess I’m learning that healing takes time, that it needs to come from the inside out and my insides still need a lot of working out.  I’ve made a new life, and yes there are annoyances in place, i.e. Exie’s nitpicking and accusatory bs and emotionally manipulating the girls and the PTSD that comes with dealing with him over every little dang thing.

However, in terms of my home life, the borders of my home, when my babies are within our home, the one we are making that is safe from harm, I have to figure out how to trust that the other shoe is not going to drop.  No one is going to choke the dog.  No one is going to scream and yell and break things and attack and gaslight and make the world a difficult place.  PTSD—I don’t like you.  I’m trying to live without you, I’m trying to heal.  Two steps forward, one step back, I guess.

The point of this entry is—happy birthday to you.  You might not have ever thought you’d make it this far, but you have, despite the bumps and bruises along the way.  Hug the part of you that’s hurting, and soothe the part of you that’s still scared.  Hang in there for another day, and know it’s okay not to be perfect.  There’s a lot of !@#$ going on in the world these days, so make the difference that you can in your own world and if you screw up in one moment due to PTSD, take the next to try and make it better.  My wish is that the peace you are looking for will sink in and eventually replace the familiar pain blanket that has wrapped you up since you were tiny.  One day love will win, it will, even if it doesn’t feel like it today.  One day, normal will not be anxiety and pain, but peace.  I hope.

Holiday and healing

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Last week end was a week end that soothed the soul, plus it was a holiday so we had extra time together.  Hubby was off work for all three days, too, so we played tourist and took the girls snorkeling, and DD2 saw her very first fish underwater!  She was so excited!  We also toured a ranch where we got to feed horses and a donkey and even a giant tortoise, and then we made it home for a home cooked grilled meal, courtesy of the Hubby grill master. 

While the girls had their usual activities on Saturday, we divided and conquered so that each sister could do what needed to be done, then met back up for a yummy lunch at Chuck E Cheese, since why not, the girls begged us to take them and we caved!  Ha ha ha.  Then Sunday morning I woke up, threw a pot roast into the crock pot and then we went to Sunday school and church, and I took the girls for a girls lunch and then we met up again with the Hubs to see a matinee…it was seriously like a vacation where when I finally got to Monday morning, I was thinking how now I need a vacation from our vacation, lol.

In the midst of all the activity, I remembered to hold onto the moments, the giggles coming from the girls in the backseat, the oohing and aahing at the fishies in the sea, DD1 leaning on me on the couch when we caught up on some Olympics, DD2 snuggling up to our doggie G, slurping down a special ice cream frosty treat in the late afternoon sunshine, helping DD2 count her tickets at the machine in Chuck E Cheese, just silly, fun, normal little things.

The girls are going to their dad’s today for the week end, and that’s okay.  They are doing fine.  They’re both back in school, they know their family loves them.  And the Exie has been pretty quiet of late, so for that I’m thankful.

Last night, though, DD1 was teary eyed at bed time—suddenly, she was worried about being late to school the next day.  She’s never worried about things like that, so in my spidey sense, I asked her if it was hard going back and forth between two houses and she nodded her head and leaned on my shoulder.  I told her I was really sorry about the two houses situation, and one day, when she was older, she might understand better.  That even though there are two houses, I love dad and his family, too, because our hearts are big enough for everyone in our family, and that the most important part to know is that SHE is loved by everyone.  She snuggled in closer and seemed to be comforted. 

I honestly don’t know why I said that.  I’ve been thinking about that for a while; there’s so much acrimony between their father and me, and there’s a reason for it, he terrified us, and to do this day, has never taken responsibility for his actions, and continues to manipulate and be a general control freak.  The divorce has curtailed a lot of his behavior, but not all, although I see it as a downgrade from being a terror to an annoying pain in the rear.

I know that I did once love him, enough to hold onto our family at all costs, no matter what, but in the end, that love wasn’t enough.  The pain and anger and terror were too much.  But I remember the love, and I remember that is what I wanted for my daughters—unconditional love.  So maybe that’s why I said that.  If she know that I was able to have love for her father and his family, maybe that would help heal her, and help her not feel so divided.

What I love the most now—is providing a caring, loving household with my daughters and my hubby.  Hopefully showing my daughters what it means to be respected and loved without a cost and a price.  Hopefully showing them that it’s okay if things don’t work out the way you envisioned them to be, that there is a life worth living and building and loving and hoping for.

Worry

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I love my babies so much it hurts.  Likely says every mother everywhere.  So when I see their dad encroaching with his manipulation and emotional blackmail, my heart kind of boils.  New emails came in over the week end.  New confidences from DD2 last night :(

I know I have to let go of fear.  But how do you let go of the worry:

He makes them question themselves and their feelings.

He swears at them for things like brushing their teeth or taking too long to put their shoes on.

Little sister repeatedly tells me she’s “dumb” and “lies” and “breaks things” because “that’s what daddy says.”

They feel responsible for his feelings, that if they don’t behave a certain way (i.e. too friendly with their stepfather; too loving on the phone with me when they’re with him), they worry he thinks they don’t love him.

I worry they think they are at fault when their dad loses his temper.

I worry they’ll carry the responsibility for a man in their life into their adult relationships.

I worry they’ll think love isn’t love unless it includes anger.

I worry they’ll think that if they love him enough, he’ll change.

I worry they’ll think if he doesn’t change, there’s something wrong with them.

I worry they won’t realize it’s okay to be happy and to be loved without hurt.

I worry they’ll think they’re not good enough.

I worry they’ll think they are unworthy of love.

I worry that the self-confidence and trust in the goodness in the world that fills them up right now to the brim, will get whittled down into self-doubt and insecurity.

I worry they’ll question their reality.

Dear god, please protect my babies.  Please help them stand up for themselves.  Please help them believe in themselves.  Please help them know they are loved and worthy of love.