(Teenager) GirlMom Help!

 

(picture credit here)

Dear World, 

Maybe the kids are *not* all right.  If there are any moms of teenagers out there (or mom survivors of teenagers), I would really, really be grateful for any words of wisdom.  Especially if you are/were doing the two household situation due to a divorce (long ago).  And especially, especially if your co-parent hailed from an abusive household and has not healed from it...

From this teenager mom:  I need a hug.  Or a million.  And a vodka shot. Maybe more than one.

This heartfelt “letter from” series on The Guardian, sums up my insides exactly.

The context:  For the last few years (even in COVID), I was able to pull off a birthday lunch for my daughter with her school friends, and this year, we discussed the same a couple of weeks ago.  Last night, I realized that in a few days, said daughter would be off with her summer break time with dad, and I thought to talk to finish up her planning at dinner.  She seemed hesitant at first, then blurted out that she wanted to do something small with us, and that she would do something with her school friends with dad.  I did my best to react kindly, even as I was a little surprised, and continued to nod and say okay and sounds good.

After dinner, I thought to check in with her (apparently big mistake #1), and ask her about her thought process.  My words:  Hi honey, just thought to check in, can you please help me understand your thought process, only because a couple of weeks ago we had started working on her party over here and that is okay, just wondered?  Her response immediately escalated into yelling at me about how she never made any kind of decision before, and that I didn’t trust her to make her own choices, and how dare I question her?  It was such a strong reaction, I was taken off guard and the more I tried to soothe and say, okay, everything is okay, the more she agitated and upset she got.

I literally told her I think it is good she can have fun with her dad, or do fun things with him.  I said it is 100% okay to say, hey mom, I changed my mind, I would like to have a party with dad this year and do something small with my old old friends over here.  And she grimaced and said, well, OKAY MOM, I changed my mind and just want my three friends over here.  And you don’t trust me and you just want to blame dad instead of trusting me to make my own decisions and to get out. 

So, reading the room, I got out!  When everyone calmed down, about an hour later, I had to check on her for the next morning commute (I make her breakie on the go).  And in doing so, I reinforced with her and said, honey, it is important that you understand what is in my head about dad.  Please don’t put your thoughts in there.  I have always thought and still do think it is good that you can do good things with him; I am happy you are going on your trip with him to spent time with aunty (his girlfriend), I really like aunty, and have always supported you doing things with dad ever since you were a little girl.  And she just said:  OKAY.

And I thought, well…okay maybe it is okay?  But it isn’t okay—because I learned later that her interpretation of events was that I was going after her and giving it to her and that I didn’t trust her and she is so tired of it all.

My heart still hurts about this; how badly my words have been misinterpreted and it doesn’t matter that I stood there calmly, using quiet words.  I remember seeing this comedy routine from this mom who says that she angers her daughter just by breathing. 

I’m trying not to cry my eyes out, because underneath it all, I know that her father has for years delighted in the manipulation of how unfair everything is in terms of his perspective of not having ‘equal’ time with the girls—even though it is for their own protection.  And the girls have spent years taking care of him emotionally and tiptoeing around his temper.  They painstakingly and repeatedly reported blow-by-blow accounts of what happens at our house (and I have heard him making sly and negative comments).  However, in the reverse, they have never felt comfortable sharing what activities they do with him, even going to ‘secret’ beaches that they can’t tell me about because ‘it’s a secret.’ 

All my efforts to escape his abuse (physical and mental) and it feels like in this scenario, we have not escaped.  All my efforts to be supportive, as best as I can, to never badmouth, to hear their worries and reflect them back with support and empathy, without ever negative talking their father, and to also react positively when they share fun things that they do?  To be the ‘safe’ house, yet still, somehow, my words/interprets my words as negative and blaming and icky.

I know being a parent of teenagers is tough; I didn’t know that by saying I support your time with your dad would be interpreted as mom is after me and blames dad for everything.  It is enough to throw your hands up and give up.

I know I can’t give up.  But boy does my heart ache.  I don’t think I am cut out for this teenager heartache.

p.s. thank goodness for therapists.  She helped me understand that the bonds between child and mom will always be there.  That it is normal for teenage girls to go off on their moms; also okay for me to say: hey I hear you are having a hard time and I am always here for you, but it is hard to hear when you are turning on me.  

That she likely does it because she feels safe.  But my heart hurts because of and also for her.

Current Vibe: BLM, Women's Rights (RBG forever), He Got COVID and we survived

Dear World,

I dropped off the face of the planet for the last two years, completely overwhelmed.

I hope to reconnect through the blogosphere once again.  The world has gone extremely nuts since the pandemic so let’s give a quick update, and then I hope to come back to regularly scheduled programming.  <3

• Hubby and I marched in the BLM 2020 summer protest held locally (with masks on) and still stand in solidarity against systemic racism.  Clearly, more work needs to be done, considering the f!@#$ racist mass shooting in Buffalo.

• I have marched in two protests relating to reproductive health rights for women, once because of the Texan (aka the Republic of Gilead) draconian law that they managed to pass, limiting abortions at six weeks (when most folks don’t even know they are pregnant) and also giving private citizens the right to sue anyone who is seeking or provides a legal and safe abortion for up to $10,000.  (How about giving folks $10,000 worth of healthcare/prenatal/postnatal/early education support?)  The second, a couple of days ago, in response to the US Supreme Court leaked draft opinion that looks to overturn Roe v. Wade and turn the clock back on 50 years of women’s legally protected constitutional right to healthcare.  For more action on this, please see RiseUp4AbortoinRights.  These initial protests are just the beginning.  P.s. at our particular protest, there were folks who graduated high school in 1972, sharing very vivid memories of what they experienced before abortion was legal.  And young women half my age taking on this battle, sharing their expressions of leadership and action—they inspired my heart!  I’ve been protesting since the 1992 March on Washington, and 30+ years later, can’t believe I still have to protest for this $hizzle.

• Hubby contracted and recovered from COVID-19.  TWICE.  Miraculously, he was okay, and none of us caught it.  He is fine, we are fine.  (Wait, are we really fine?) While the US has surpassed the 1 million mark for COVID-19 deaths, I think maybe not.  And our hearts are with the families and loved ones of those lost.

• I have been self-medicating with funny animal, cooking, and dancing Tiktok videos and am weirdly inspired by young people just a little bit older than my daughters, speaking out and sounding the alarm against climate change, systemic racism, and the draft opinion rolling back women’s rights.

• I broke my foot (healed) in a freak accident and am recovering from shoulder surgery (healing).  While mobility is limited, I am able to resume work.

• Most importantly, the kids are all right, as best that can be expected, but more soon on the state of their access to their last living grandmother (due to their father’s fighting), which makes me sad.  Learning to let go of the things that I can’t control, and coming to terms with supporting my girls.  While I know what the ‘right’ thing is (support them in having regular visits with their grandma), I have to accept that my role is to remove the bind from them—they love grandma with all their hearts, but they also know they pay a price if they see her with me :(.  The saddest of all of this is she is suffering from memory loss, and soon it will be too late.  :(

• In spite of all this crazy nutso shizzle, it has not been all doom and gloom over here…life finds a way.  I hope to share some of the amazing supportive resources that have helped me get through some of the hardest times in my life these past two years.  Here is one:  Oprah Winfrey’s Super Soul Sundays podcast.  Specifically, her interviews with Dr. Brené Brown, about how being vulnerable is our greatest strength in finding courage to lift one another up in meaningful connection.  <3  (There are four interviews with Oprah, two focusing on “Atlas of the Heart,” and two on “Daring Greatly”)  And bonus resources:  Dr. Brown’s HBO Max 5 episode series focusing on her research on Atlas of the Heart and her amazing site that links to her own podcasts. <3

• Keep on keeping on!  Breath, survive. And thrive. <3

Love and hugs,

Jane Thrive

June 2021

Dear World,

I have been utterly overwhelmed some days and unbelievably thankful and grateful on others.  The emotional swings from debilitating anxiety and depression to scraping by to achieve in my professional life and provide for my family is a seesaw of craziness.  I cannot believe some days that I "made it" through the day, hour, week.  But here I am, summer 2021.  I crack up and want to cry at the same time.  

So far:

• No one has caught COVID-19
• Everyone is vaccinated except for littlest sister who is too young still yet.
• Hubby is back to work full time, after being out for nearly a year.
• I am teleworking, but as the emergency orders start winding down, I am praying I make it through until little sister goes back to school full time (they say schools fully re-opening in the fall).
• Ex husband has been usual pain in the ass about everything; chalking it up to pandemic anxiety and separation from his long distance girlfriend?  He argued vehemently against big sister getting her vaccine, accusing me of falsifying health records to get the appointment, only to turn around two days later to sign her up at the all-school vaccine clinic (can't look back in front of the parents/student body...?)...but the end goal is that she got her vaccination protection and that's what matters.  <3

I am wishing love and health and safety to the world.  

Love,

Jane Thrive

p.s. While in "survive" mode at the moment, still grateful for the resources that I have to be able to support my family.

Happy New Year 2021

So thankful to be healthy and alive and well—kids are okay, hubby is working part time, pending return to full-time; I’m employed.  Kids father is still acting like a prick, but manageable for now.  

We’re just all tuckered down, waiting for our new administration to get sworn in tomorrow and to keep on working as hard as we can on healing and being the love I want to see in the world.  Come on COVID-19 vaccines and a return to safety and health for the world.

Wishing you all love and peace and health for 2021.  (It’s going to be better than 2020 dammit.)   

Love,

Jane Thrive

October - COVID, Halloween, and School

 

First, the best overview of a presidential debate ever in history comes from Weird Al Yankovic.  Please watch and weep with laughter. 

Secondly, 45 has COVID and FLOTUS does as well, and the internet is exploding with memes.  I think many are struggling with the satisfaction that the karma train has rolled into the station, and the terribleness of feeling that satisfaction for when someone has contracted a deadly disease.

Thirdly, I’ve started a 50 mile walk/run challenge for October—that means if I walk/run 50 miles by 10/31/2020, then I’ll get a medal and also a tank top, lol. This is for my health and anxiety, I honestly think that getting meaningful exercise is helping me stay sane, but the medal will be a nice bonus. Ha ha ha! 

Fourthly, because trick-or-treating will be out of the question this year, I’m going to take the girls on a horseback ride and we’re going to plant a tree—it’s a combo horseback riding, plant a tree private tour situation and what a great way to help the environment, support a local farm/business, and do something fun with the family.  (insert heart emoji)

Fifthly, the kids are all right with this back to school situation.  Little sis is virtual throughout the fall, big sis is back on campus, but with PPE out the wazoo, a health monitoring app every morning, and social distancing to the nth degree, so I’m not actually concerned.  Will see how it all pans out with the regular flu season upon us, but we're pretty happy.  Also big sis got an award for her high gpa from 2019-2020, and we are so proud of her!  In teenage fashion, her reaction was:  meh.

LOL. 

Stay safe and healthy!

 

Love,

Jane Thrive

When There Are Nine: RBG, my mom, and then me

 

Photo Credit

Current Vibe:  Devastated by the loss of RBG, this amazing woman who impacted our lives so much.  Listening to this wonderful podcast about her life from NYT’s _The Daily_.  

RBG’s life was a slow and steady path towards progress and institutional change, especially with regard to gender equality. She paved the way for a more just world, where my mom’s career in science and engineering could exist and for my own as a financially able, working mom of two.  When RBG was a young woman, teachers were fired if they were just beginning to show they were pregnant.  If someone tried to do that ridiculousness now, they would be sued. 

I played that NYT’s podcast in the car when picking up my daughter and her BFF from their first day of blended pandemic back to school.  When I explained that fact about teachers, they couldn’t believe their ears, literally their mouths were hung open in shock.  I was like, yes girls, can you imagine if your teacher was fired because she was pregnant?  It’s insane! And…it’s not that far away from us. 

I’m grieving for the loss of such a light in the world.  I’m raging at the white men in power who are doing everything they can to scrap and scrabble for their rights over other human beings, throwing their hypocritical remarks into the wind for millions of campaign dollars.  I’m so freaking depressed about minority rule in this country.  How dare they attempt to walk back decades of progress.

I’ll admit it—I’m scared, terrified, that now I have to be the one to stand up.  Or maybe I’m tired.  But I don’t get to be tired, I have to be strong.  I better stand up, because without Ruth on the highest court of the land writing for today and tomorrow, then we have to do the writing and the standing. 

This is going to sound really strange and weird, but I feel like I’m grieving my own mom all over again.  Maybe because I saw her as a beacon of strength, no matter how hurt I was as a young girl (I have a high E.Q., my mom has a high science I.Q., and maybe they just don’t match so well…), I knew she always did what she could, her very best, to provide for her family.  She was a single working mom, married to not the best of men until her third marriage. 

When a teacher yelled at me as a second grader, I can’t even remember for what—maybe something about dropping an eraser at the chalkboard?  My mom marched in and called her out on it.  I didn’t witness that, but one of the things my mom shared with me was this:  my mom never stood up for me if any teacher treated me unfairly, saying that’s just how it was.  So I vowed that when I grew up, I would always go in and do something if that happened to one of MY kids… 

My mom’s sense of fairness—was pretty black and white in her thinking, not many shades of gray for her, which with my fragile and passionate heart, had trouble navigating until I was an adult.  Mom broke her own barriers in education and workplace, an undergraduate biology major, then as a single mom of two, earning her master’s degree in industrial hygiene, and then embarking on a career in employee safety and later migrating to engineering—all male dominated fields, but she carved a successful career, traveling the country and sometimes bringing us with her when we were young, otherwise always home with dinner on the table by 6pm, and then later traveling the world for her job.  At the same time, I’m pretty sure she voted republican and deferred in her later life to my brother about legal decisions (glossing over any opinions I may have shared).  I was her emotional comfort, I guess, and my brother, being “the man” while at the same time emotionally distant with her, simply was more respected for all things real world.  Perhaps internalized patriarchy, but all the same, Mom broke barriers just by breathing and living. 

When she passed, I was broken for a month, and then I picked myself up and started running, out of the blue.  (I’ve now completed two half marathons, and would have done a third if not for the pandemic.) Because somewhere in the back of my foggy drink-addled head after her passing, I could almost hear her pragmatic voice: well, get on with it already.  You’ve got two kids to take care of and a job to do. 

So I guess I kept on keeping on.  Somehow RBG’s spirit and my mom’s spirit resonate similarly with me—the former bucking tradition and taking mini steps to change the world at large, the latter bucking tradition and taking mini steps that changed my very personal world.  And now they’re both gone, and it’s left my heart breaking at the edges, the middle, and inside. 

I vacillate between overwhelmed with depression and at the same time, rage against the world that would leave me (and women) behind and out of the rooms where decisions are being made.  I can’t stand the unfairness—something my mom instilled in me and one that RBG challenged and defeated time and again—unfairness on the basis of sex, gender, race.  

I comfort at the RBG tributes here,  here, and here. 

And I remember that we are not alone, even if we feel like it.  My daughters can’t imagine a world where a teacher would be fired for being pregnant.  Yet that was “the norm” when RBG was a young lady, and would also have been just passing by when my mom embarked on her college career.  I will not forget and I will keep fighting as long as there is air in my lungs to breathe.  Even when I feel beyond tired and want to cry.  We can do this, if only in our hearts, then our minds, then our words, then our actions: 

p.s. Rage donating to campaigns to support flipping seats Blue via Actblue.  Specifically donating to: 

Amy McGrath, KY (polls are all over the place, but would dream a dream if she could win)

Mark Kelly, AZ (he can sit right away if he’s elected, because it’s a special election)

Sara Gideon, ME

Jaime Harrison, SC

Pat Timmons-Goodson, NC (Obama judge appointee that the Senate blocked, now carries a lead for US Congressional Rep) 

Apparently, I’m not alone in doing this—record breaking donations poured in last Friday night.  Thank goodness.  

p.p.s. women's rights are human rights and human rights are women's rights

RBG - no no no please I can't say goodbye to you

The incredible RBG passed away today, and my heart dropped down to my toes.  She worked tirelessly to secure fundamental rights for women and reached into the hearts of so many, including men and children, including my DD1, to teach us about what can be done if we put our minds and strength behind our words and action.

2020:  I can't even with you anymore.