Category Archives: the ugly

Take THAT, apartment!!!

Over the past little while, I haven’t been on top of my “domestic duties”, so to speak. I know, this confession is shocking coming from me, huh? The one who actually believes in the 50s housewife mindset {to a degree, anyway}. But it’s true! I’ve been slacking, and then some! The soles of my slippers are caked in squished raisins – and that tells you about the cleanliness of my kitchen floor right there.

For the past week, I’ve been super lazy and tired. I think my iron is low – actually I know my iron is low. I don’t get nearly enough red meats, nor do I eat anything else high in iron. So I’ve been lazy, spending most of my afternoons doing nothing but cuddling up my baby boy and reading stories to him. During his nap time, I also nap…or have been, anyway. Our bedroom was a laundry war-zone, piles of dirty scattered about on the floor and baskets of clean stacked high to the ceiling. I was too lazy to fold the clean laundry, and thus didn’t have any baskets for the dirty laundry. Nor did I have any room in the baskets for more clean laundry so I couldn’t just toss it into the washer and dryer to get rid of it. No, that would mean that I would actually have to fold some of the clean clothes. I did manage to stay on top of the dishes, more or less. After all, we don’t have a dish washer and even at my most laziest moments I can’t stand having dirty dishes in my sink. So, go me for that at least!

Yeah, I’ve been the definition of lazy. Even my blogging indicates that, and that’s totally okay. We’re all entitled to moments {er, in my case, weeks} of laziness. I prefer to call it “weeks of rest”, thank you very much.

In any case, I’ve broken out of the fog spell and slapped myself upside the head. I am the one who does the majority of the cleaning {okay, all of it – although hubs does help me tidy up toys in the evening}, because I am the one that gets bothered most by mess and dirty things. I’ve mentioned thousands of times before that Matt does not see messes the way I see them. He’s blind to them. They don’t exist. The man will cook a fantastic dinner, but leave all of the dishes on the counter. I’m lucky if some of them make it into the sink. So, if I’m the only one who does all the majority of the cleaning, you can bet your socks that our apartment needed my love and attention. So this morning, I gave it just that.

A huge chore for me was the recycling under the sink. We have a little blue recycling bin that is supposed to be taken out to our big recycling bin outside when it gets full. However, our big recycling bin is currently buried under tons of snow, I’ve attempted to make Matt dig it out several times before but according to him “it’s frozen to the ground and if he tries to get it out the bottom will come out.” So, we technically don’t have the use of a big recycling bin. I keep forgetting to go to Walmart and pick up a new one {that will we store in Matt’s truck cab}, not to mention Matt missed recycling this week. {He claims it doesn’t matter, because he didn’t have anything to put all the recycling in anyway – since our big bin is, again, buried}. Trust me when I say that the recycling literally piled up to the point where you couldn’t even open the cupboard doors under the sink without tons of it falling out at you. And I kept leaving it, thinking that Matt would deal with it. Pfft, yeah right! Matt deal with a mess?!? Even with my constant bitching about it, it stayed under the sink. He kept saying “oh, I’ll put it all in bags and put it in the back of my truck for now”.

Guess what I did today? I put all of the recycling in bags and then brought it out to Matt’s truck and tossed it in the cab. Now, the cupboard under my sink looks exactly how it’s supposed to…like this:

And Matt’s truck cab is loaded up with bags full of recycling, waiting for the day when we finally get our asses to Walmart to buy a new big recycling bin. Which, if I have anything to do with it, will be happening very soon. I think it looks really trashy {snort, trash…get it!?} and I want that dealt with ASAP. While it brings me such joy to see Matt’s truck cab full of recycling, that joy is dampened by the facts that a) he doesn’t drive his truck during the winter so what kind of punishment is that anyway? and b) as I said, it’s totally trashy and I hate trashy.

So, yeah. That was a huge chore for me this morning. Plus I cleaned the entire kitchen and washed the floors {and picked all the squished raisins off my slippers}. Then I cleaned the bathroom and our bedroom. I’m catching up on laundry {nearly there!} and I’ve vacuumed the livingroom. Our apartment is slowly being restored to it’s original glory, and I love it!

I don’t know why I allow myself to get in lazy moods like that. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does the mood drags on and on and on. Seriously, weeks of laziness? What the hell, me?

I’m glad I finally gave our apartment some tender loving and care, since Matt would like to have his college friend, G, and G’s girlfriend over for a “fondue party” tomorrow night. I’m game because chocolate fondue is bomb! And yes, I know, I should have recruited his help because he wants to have the fondue party, but guess what? I’m sure I’ll be making him clean something in preparation for this “fondue party” – our apartment never stays clean for long!

When I say that Matt doesn’t see messes the way that I see them, I mean simply that. He doesn’t see them. If I tell him to clean something, he’ll do it. I know, the recycling was just him being super lazy and probably unable to see how or where we could store all that recycling without pissing off our landlords {he was thinking truck bed, I was thinking truck cab}.

The best thing about being a stay-at-home-mom is that I only have myself to report to. Matt is completely fine with messes. I, on the other hand, not so much. So the only person I piss off when I get lazy is myself. I don’t piss off any managers or bosses, and I don’t loose my job for slacking. So basically, I can be lazy and still “have a job”. It’s awesome. Plus when I’m feeling lazy and not wanting to clean, it just gives me even more time to read stories to Nolan and play with him. We’ve had tons of snuggles this week!

Oh and by the way, I found Nolan’s other snow boot…it was stuck in his snow pants. So Nolan didn’t actually lose it at all. Mom fail? Totally. Oh well, he doesn’t seem bothered by the misguided blame at all 😉

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Bad Mood Bear

I am in a bad mood today. I’m stressed, anxious, and exhausted. I’ve had far too many late nights over the past little while and needless to say…they’ve caught up with me! Today has kicked my ass and then some, and despite my nap this afternoon I’m still dragging ass and grouchy.

I barely got any sleep last night, between Nolan’s sleep crying and my back. My back was causing me murderous pain, probably because of the way I was sitting during our evening TV watching. So from 2am-3am, I tossed and turned and whined. I ditched my pillow even. Finally I fell asleep, but it was NOT peaceful.

Then my morning started off with the walk-in-clinic “re-dial” game. I wanted to book an appointment for myself and Nolan. The walk-in-clinic we usually go to opens at 1pm and at 9pm you can call and book an appointment for that day. Monday mornings are always rat races, I played the “re-dial” game for literally half an hour. When I finally got through, I tried to book an appointment. I gave the receptionist my name and she instantly interrupted me.

“You owe us for a foot clinic you missed in May. We won’t be able to see you until you pay the $70 charge.” this was said in an icy, short tone {after I was interrupted}.

“Ok…but I don’t have $70 today…” was my response, because I don’t. I was about to ask if I could still be seen with a promise to pay this Friday, but didn’t get far at all because I was again cut off.

“We won’t be seeing you until you pay the $70 charge”.

Ok then.

I was deeply irritated because this foot clinic thing is bogus. I signed up for it, yes, but I never received a call. {Who knows, maybe I did but at the time we were living with Matt’s dad & step-mom, I often didn’t get calls}. I guess I just forgot and assumed they weren’t doing it since I never got the call.

And to me, $70 seems VERY excessive for a missed foot clinic appointment, and the receptionist shouldn’t have had a bitchy tone with me. You catch more bees with honey, not vinegar.

Obviously I’m going to pay this fine, despite the fact that I think its WAY too much for a missed appointment AND despite the fact that they never clarified that “missing” their foot clinic would result in a fee. But I’m still mad about it.

So that put me in a foul mood from the get go. Mostly because I’m feeling insanely guilty for the amount of unnecessary I spent in the last month that shouldn’t have been spent. The tattoo, my hairdo, the three times I went out for lunch with Nolan, the pizza we didn’t have to order, and the 26er of vodka I didn’t need to buy are all weighing heavily on my mind. The fact that we’re tapped until Friday because I slipped up so much also weighs heavily on my conscious.

Throughout it all, Matt isn’t angry with me. Despite the fact if the tables were turned *I* would undoubtedly be infuriated with him. But I don’t let him make mistakes like that, so why do I let myself?

I’m just having one of those days where I need to pout and feel sorry for myself just because I know I screwed up. I know I should have been smarter about our money. I really don’t think I’m to blame for the whole missed foot clinic thing, but I also don’t think they’re entirely too blame either. It just sucks. Especially since I’ve been in several times since May with Nolan and they never once mentioned this fee to me. Or it would have been paid by now {because I usually don’t suck THIS much with our money}.

I still have another four hours to get through before I can fall into bed and call it a night.

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Poison

I wish she understood. I wish I could make her see this poison that is leaking from her every pore. I wish she could see that it’s been leaking from her every pore for quite some time. I wish I could allow her to see herself through my eyes. I wish she could see the aftermath, the resulting feelings and emotions that I have now. Maybe then, she would finally understand. I wish she could see that the people she is choosing to associate with are not good at all, they are evil and poison and they aren’t helping her get ahead. What sort of “friend” tells a woman her own family doesn’t love her, when he doesn’t know her family or what we feel/think? What kind of “friend” allows a woman to bask in such hatred and resentment, all the time? That’s not a friend, that’s a person (if we can even call him that) who has targeted her to gain something from her and destroy what’s left of her.

She is an easy target, she unfortunately always has been. She is weak and prone to attracting negative people because she is a negative person. She doesn’t learn from the past, and she don’t grow from experience. I’ve watched her over the past year, and instead of picking herself up off the floor and at least trying to move forward with her life, she chose to remain in such a dark place of resentment and blame and hatred that it ended up pushing us away. It’s not healthy, and it wasn’t healthy for us to hear her speak the way she spoke and watch her carry on the way she carried on.

I’m not saying that what she went through wasn’t difficult, but really…she never rose to the challenge of starting anew. She never picked up the pieces and tried to move on. She were given so many opportunities to shine, and she chose not to.

How is this any of our fault? Did we tell her to stay beaten down? Did we tell her to play the victim card? No. We did the opposite. We tried to get her to flourish, find a job and make something of herself for herself. But she wouldn’t. She had excuse after excuse on why she couldn’t. She just never tried.

And then she started associating with these “friends” of hers that are not really friends at all. Friends don’t keep you down, they don’t tell you to abandon your children or lash out at their father. They talked her into pushing her kids away so she could “do for her” for the first time ever. Doing for yourself doesn’t mean ditching motherhood altogether. Generally, doing for you means getting a job, saving money, and working hard to improve your life in a positive way. She didn’t, and isn’t, doing that.

I don’t see how telling her family to piss off is going to help with any of this “personal growth” stuff.

She is the reason I am so determined to succeed: because I don’t want to end up the way she did, in the mind frame she did. She lost her desire to succeed and thrive. She felt that her only success was through the triumphs of her kids and husband, and she felt this way on her own accord. No one told her to stop thinking about herself and dedicate every waking minute to everybody else (like she says she did). She stopped trying to reach her own goals, in fact I’m pretty sure she stopped making goals all together. Mark my words, I won’t ever stop making goals. I won’t ever stop reaching for them and succeeding and thriving.

I want all these things for my son, so how could I not set that example for him? He will see me struggle my way to the top – with my husband at my side to support me, as I am supporting him now – and he will be proud.

I feel ashamed to admit I wasn’t proud of her, not recently anyway. She wasted golden opportunities to make something of herself. She didn’t set good examples for her daughters. It’s a good thing I’ve learned how to evaluate a situation and determine right from wrong on my own. It’s a good thing I have the motherly instinct to keep such negativity far away from my doorstep.

But, I’m still deeply wounded by this. And I probably will be for a very long time.

Maybe one day she’ll realize how wrong she is, how wrong she’s been. Maybe one day I’ll get that apology. But I can’t help but feel that those things aren’t going to happen, I have a feeling that I have lost her in this poison forever.

I debated on making this post private, but I’m tired of hiding my words, of silencing my voice. My voice may be cracked with pain and hurting now, but I’ve yet to regret a single thing I’ve written. This is all part of the healing process. I just can’t wait to be healed.

At least I can ensure that my own child never feels the hurt I feel.

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Blogging my way back to sanity

Alternatively titled: Tantrums; they aren’t just for toddlers.

Today has just been one of those days, destined to be a disaster. Having forgot about the dinner dishes, I woke up to a really messy kitchen. I can’t function in a messy kitchen, but I didn’t have time to clean it before making Nolan’s breakfast (he was hungry, and didn’t want to wait – understandable). So I’m grumbled and bitched and moaned while Matt looked on completely irritated. He was all “well Jessica, I cooked dinner last night, so by default you should have cleaned the kitchen.”

I may have or may not have castrated him for that one.

I clean the kitchen at least three times a day – after every single meal. But every once in a while, I’d like to just kick back and have someone else *AHEM; MATT* take care of the after dinner dishes, even if he cooked dinner. There have been plenty of nights where I’ve cleaned the kitchen despite cooking dinner.

So, anyways. This morning didn’t start out so grand. Nolan was a peach, as always. He’s always smiling, all the time. He ate almost all of his eggs except for one bite, then had a handful of fruit loops. But I just couldn’t get myself motivated to do anything.

I had a shit ton of errands to run today. I needed to go to the post office and finally mail our Christmas cards, and I wanted to get my last name changed on my driver’s license. I also wanted to go to Walmart and get a couple of things, as well as the grocery store. Around 10:30am, I was finally dressed and ready to go out. I set Nolan down in the living room and rushed outside to start the car. On my way in, my phone started ringing; it was Matt, calling to find out more information about a question I had asked him (if a friend of mine could crash on our couch one night while he makes his journey back home, it’s an 8 hour drive and we’re at the halfway point of his trip).

That’s when I realized that Nolan was not in the livingroom, where I had left him. I figured he would be attacking the tree or something. I looked over to the bathroom, where I was hearing noises. Ok, so he’s in the bathroom, was my thought. There’s nothing “harmful” in there (besides for the toilet, but the lid is ALWAYS down to keep the cat from drinking toilet water and he can’t lift it. Yet, anyway). As I was talking to Matt, I made my way over to the bathroom and went to open it – and then realized that the door was locked. From the inside. By my toddler who wouldn’t know how to follow the direction of “unlock the door for Mommy”.

I started to panic, because I have tried in the past to unlock the bathroom door (on Matt, when he was showering, as a joke) and never could. Matt tried to talk me out of it, and told me to grab the long skinny screw driver from his tool box. Don’t forget, I’m the girl that doesn’t know the difference from a Robertson and a screwdriver. But thankfully I was able to find the “long skinny yellow” screw driver, and with shaky hands I tried to unlock it but couldn’t get it because I was panicking so much. So, I did what any not-so-sane wife would do and started yelling at Matt like it was his fault (because, ya know, if he hadn’t have called me I would have noticed Nolan was in the bathroom sooner and got him out before he locked the door, or something).

Finally, I got the door unlocked and quickly tried to usher Nolan out of the bathroom. But he tripped over my own stupid foot and fell, and started to cry. So I may have or may not have yelled “FML” and hung up on Matt to pick up Nolan and cuddle him. Then I left him in the livingroom (after closing the bathroom door) so I could turn off the car because I was definitely not feeling an outing of any sorts, on account of I was still reeling from the panic attack and apparently I don’t learn lessons the first time around. When I came back inside, Nolan was missing again. This time he was in our bedroom, playing with Matt’s tools.

Fml.

So, go me, mother of the year award for me.

Luckily, Nolan didn’t get hurt during my stupid brain melt moments. But I’m honestly feeling like a big fat failure today. I realized that most of my issue was simply that I had skipped out on eating (or sorta, anyway, since a bowl of fruit loops is apparently not filling in any way, shape or form). So I made some toast, a tea, and sat at the table holding Nolan in my arms. He ate half my toast, and then took off. He managed to cheer me back up with his constant grin and the loud yelling of “toast!” over and over again. I just love when he learns a new word, and he learned “toast” today despite the trauma of being locked in a bathroom and having me freak out and panic. So, that counts for something, right?

I remember I was locked in a bathroom when I was a toddler. It was very traumatic for me, and even though I was really little I remember because my dad climbed the roof to get into the bathroom (the door had those old locks that couldn’t be opened from the outside). I turned out okay…at least I know my dad will always come to my rescue, if ever I get locked in a bathroom again.

But really; today has gone to shit and I’ve only got myself to blame. I simply just don’t have the patience for it anymore. Is that normal? It’s not that I don’t have the patience for Nolan but for myself and the stupid little mistakes I’m making today.

I feel like I’m failing today, majorly. We still haven’t gotten out of the house, I still haven’t mailed those Christmas cards or changed my name. And do you know what? I don’t think I’m gonna. It’s just one of those days where I’m literally afraid to go outside because if it sucks this much inside, what will it be like out there?

Ugh.

Nolan really is a champ, though. I give the kid high props and am so thankful he’s my firstborn. No matter how many mistakes (I feel like) I’m making, he always gives me the same warm sweet smile and is always completely happy to be around me. Which does a lot for my confidence when I’m down in the dumps and feeling like a total failure/loser. He always knows how to bring me away from my pity party.

In any case, I’ve learned a few valuable lessons from this whole day:

  1. No matter how much I feel I screw up, in Nolan’s eyes, I am “perfect”. (and also; his cuddles make a world of difference).
  2. We need to invest in Auto-Start. Immediately.
  3. I now know how to bust into the bathroom when Matt’s in the shower. Insert evil laughter here.

P.S. It would make me feel incredibly better about myself if y’all just posted some bad brain melt down moments of your own – it can be related to anything, not just kid stuff.

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You Won’t Be There For Me….

I was thinking about my to-do list this morning, and thinking about one item in particular that I’m eager to cross off: stocking stuffers. Then I started to think of all the Christmas’s in my past, all the ones from my childhood. I had to blink back tears, as I was driving, and crying while driving isn’t exactly safe.

She was always so good at Christmas, maybe too good. Every Christmas I have ever had was special and amazing and beautiful because of the work she put into it. She was the best at stockings, they were always stuffed so full it was hard to get the first few items out of them! They were stuffed full of such goodies: our favourite chocolates/candies, toys, DVDs, CDs and other little kid goodies, and later she added makeup and girly things like compact mirrors and nail kits. She spoiled us, she always knew what to buy and how to set it up so that everything looked great under that tree.

And I know, Christmas isn’t about the gifts; I agree completely. But we were lucky, we were spoiled at Christmas, and she was awesome at it. Half the time, presents took up most of the space in the livingroom. Even the stockings overflowed onto the floor with “bigger” gifts that she couldn’t fit in them, despite her expert skills at stocking stuffing. And the meals she cooked, with the help from my granny. I’ll miss those too.

I knew that Christmas was never going to be the same after my parents split, but I never thought we’d lose so much in the process. I thought we’d all get together still, I thought we’d all still be civil and have amazing Christmas’s together. I guess I was hoping for too much, and now that she has basically written us off….well, Christmas won’t be the same in an even more apparent, harsh way.

It will still be special, seeing my grandparents, my dad, my sisters, my nephew, my cousins…but it will be bittersweet. Because I will remember the Christmases before. I will remember the look on her face when she watched us dive into our stockings on Christmas morning.

I’ll miss the woman that she was, and every day I wish that woman would come back…that mother. I don’t need the drama and darkness she lives in now, I just miss the mama I used to have. The mama that isn’t there anymore, at least not right now.

I hope, for her sake as well as ours, that she gets the help she needs. I hope she doesn’t end up more hurt and lost and confused. I have no idea how to help her, I have no idea how to make her see what she’s doing. And….I don’t think she cares one way or the other. My efforts in the past have been ignored, or met with hostility, and I just cannot involve myself anymore. My heart is too battered and bruised. I don’t need the after effects of dealing with her, not getting the response I want and need, to send me into another pit of depression. It’s not fair for me, or my little family. I know this, so that’s why I’ve backed away and that’s why I just can’t.

But, I’m still going to miss that woman she was. All the time. It stings so much knowing that she won’t be there for me in my future milestones. More grandbabies, when I go to and graduate from college, when we buy our first house. She won’t be there.

I am thankful that I still have my dad and sister’s support. Sometimes, this is easy because I know that I still have family – even if she doesn’t want to be a part of it. But there are other times when the weight of all I’ve lost hits me like a ton of bricks.

It’s hard enough when someone dies, but when someone chooses to leave and is still alive but just doesn’t want the “burden” of their children…well, that really hurts. And when that someone is your parent, that hurts worse. Sure, having a partner leave you is devastating and I’m not disputing that…but mothers’ are the ones that we never in a million years expect to leave us or hurt us.

I’ve learned a lot from this horrible experience though. I’ve learned what it feels like to be on the receiving end of this, and I’ve learned how important it is to ensure that Nolan never doubts my love or my commitment to him…no matter how old he is.

But sometimes, this mama wishes she had a mama like that.

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Heart Hurt

Note: please read these two posts before continuing with this one. It might make more sense…or perhaps not, because this post is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotional barf.

What hurts the most is the fact that she should know that the pain she’s inflicting by her careless actions is damaging her relationship with us all beyond repair, but it still doesn’t stop her…she still don’t seem to care at all. It’s like she has thrown us all aside for something “new and better”. I feel like she is blaming us for everything that happened in the past year, and even before that, and that’s not fair. And I know, I shouldn’t let it get to me, I should just stick by my words that I said to her: I’m done. But I can’t push her entirely from my mind. A little tidbit of information about what she’s saying now or doing next will get back to me, and it will be just like that day when all these truths came to the surface: when I saw her for who she really is.

She is someone who cannot and will not own her own mistakes. She is someone who puts the blame on anyone else’s shoulders. She victimizes herself, and surrounds herself with people who fuel her ill mind. She justifies her every action with the most ridiculous explanation. It’s because he left. It’s because an 18 year old called her some names on Facebook. It’s because we don’t care about her suffering. It’s because we told her to just get over it. She is someone who has lied, repeatedly, so much so over the past year that she can’t even tell the difference between the truth of what happened and her truth of what happened.

Worst of all? She is someone who lets a horrible, horrible person speak with such disrespect and malice towards her own children. She has let this horrible person come between her and her children, and who does that?

She can’t see the lies she’s painting. She can’t see the hurt she’s inflicting. Or maybe she does, and maybe she doesn’t care.

I have a sick, horrible feeling that when she leaves this province, I will never see her – or hear from her – again. I mean, I don’t hear from her now…she hasn’t responded to texts or emails, and I’ve stopped trying since I sent that last email calling her on all her shit. But, I literally feel as though she’ll fall off the face of the earth and that none of us will hear from her again.

And a part of me wonders if that’s for the best.

The amount of pain and turmoil she’s caused in the past months is ridiculous, and I’m having such a hard time dealing with it…accepting it, coming to terms with it. I always thought she suffered from depression, but never in a million years did I see her doing this to us.

Or did I? Perhaps that is the hardest tidbit for me to digest. After the way she acted all year-long, I wasn’t entirely shocked when the depths of her selfishness came to light. It was maddening to see the truth, right there in front of me, but I wasn’t completely shocked. I sensed it coming. I want to believe that I never saw it coming but that would be a half truth. I was blinded to it. Nobody wants to see the people they care about in that light.

It seems so unfair to me that she is taking everything she can from us. Our right to a mother who cares, the possessions we hold dear in our hearts – like the oak table the entire family sat around for holidays and get togethers and every other night of the week, the deacons benches that Papa made with the wood from the old Farmhouse – and just selling them or giving them away to other people because she can. The things he nearly broke his back working hard to buy for us, will probably all be posted on the Internet for sale by the end of the week and all of the profit will go into her pocket. Of course, we’re going to try and get some of it back, but I can’t see her giving us a thing. She’ll probably say something like “we abandoned her”, or “we chose him over her”.***

I am disgusted in her every action right now. Months ago, I remember confiding into my husband and telling him I know she’s my mother, but I am disgusted by her right now. And that was before any of the major shit happened, before she kicked my baby sister out on the street for “not following the rules”, before she said hurtful things to us all and let that monster she calls a friend insult us and make fun of us. Back when she was just “on vacation” for a month, “finding herself”. I was disgusted because my little sister was left at home in her time of need to take care of the house and the other two people living in it. Too much responsibility, if you ask me – although my little sister handled it gracefully and kept that house spotless.

And I know, I’m “airing my dirty laundry” on the Internet, but since everybody can’t see it, I guess it’s okay, right? I need to write more about it, because it’s eating me up. Day in and day out, I over analyze the situation. I wonder why I can’t reach out to her and make her see how wrong she is, how wrong she’s been and make her realize that we are important. But why should I have to do that? Those are things she should know, the mother instinct bond that should be there even if we have all grown up.

It’s hard feeling like I don’t have a mother, that figure I can call up when my days are hard and I just need some advice. I know I haven’t had the best relationship with her in recent times, but I always figured we’d improve it as I got older. I figured we’d learn how to talk to each other, but nobody can talk to her.

I feel like I’ve lost so much over the past month. I feel like every childhood memory is tainted. Was it all a show? Did we mean anything to her? If we did, how can she turn her back on us now?

***I never wanted to choose. When my dad left my mom, I was angry and hurt, but I never wanted to choose. He was still my dad, the same man who loved me and continues to love me no matter what mistakes I’ve made or will make, and she’s mom, she’s supposed to do the same thing. So no, I didn’t choose. But she thinks I did because I said “his leaving and what he did are NOT good excuses for how YOUR acting right now. Only you are responsible for your actions, this is on you”. She only sees things the way she wants to see them though, and she sees this as me siding with him and “forgiving” him for putting her through hell (and again; I don’t think it’s my spot to forgive him, it’s hers.) Just to be clear…

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The one where I shake with fury…

I am so angry right now, I am shaking. White hot anger is flaring up within my chest and heart and it isn’t pretty at all. I am seeing red. Angry red. I want to embrace it, to face the emotions that I have been struggling to escape from. It’s better than burying it, right? It’s better than not facing it, pretending like I’m fine with all that’s gone on in the past few months.

But…I’m not fine. And I have every right not to be. I have been dealing with so many life altering blows over the past year – yes, nothing like what some people deal with (and please note: I am so thankful for the health of my family and loved ones), but these blows have knocked me off my feet and redefined everything that I know and everything I am. The most recent blow has rocked my world far worse than the last blow did or ever could. I can’t really get into detail with it here, because the things that lead up to this recent blow are really insignificant. That “first blow” isn’t really so bad now. This one though? This is the one that has really redefined my entire being.

I am a firm believer that we are responsible for our own destiny. This means that we’re responsible for our own happiness, our own actions, our own lives. I believe that who we are is defined by the roads we take. It is our job to own our mistakes, to admit when we’re wrong so that we can truly learn and grow from the experience.

But she? She hasn’t done that. At all. She has blamed her every unsavory action on someone else. She has turned into a vengeful, ugly person and I blocked her from contacting me on Facebook because I do not want to associate with that kind of person. I was tired of hearing her speak so badly of everyone else, tired of seeing her allow herself to fall deeper and deeper into this big dark hole, finally drawing in the same kind of people she is becoming: dark and full of negativity. People that fuel her lucid perception of what happened and encourage her to abandon her children in order to “be herself”. I am a mother, I cannot “be myself” without loving my child. My child will always come first, no matter what age he is because that’s what mother’s do. We love our children and help them and are mother’s forever. There is nothing wrong with that. I’m not saying you have to lose yourself completely to your children and their achievements or your husband and his achievements, I’m not saying you need to live your life through other people’s eyes but how can I be held responsibility for her choosing to do just that? Nobody told her that she couldn’t develop a personality outside of being a mom and wife. I’m sorry that’s what happened to her, but I don’t think we’re responsible and I certainly don’t think any of this matters in the grand scheme of things. Fact of the matter is; she is wrong, she is hurting those whom she is supposed to love most, and she doesn’t see it that way at all. And that? Makes me really angry.

Something happened tonight on stupid Facebook that shook and stirred up this great big old pot of anger and resentment I’ve been harboring, and I’m shaking with fury over it. I ended up emailing her, saying what I needed to say, and I hit send. I don’t regret it. Not right now. I needed to say those things, I needed her to understand why I’m not talking to her. Her display on Facebook was exactly the reason why I’m not talking to her, why I can’t forgive her – at least not now. Not until she gets the help she desperately needs.

P.S. I’m sorry this is all very hard to follow and understand…it would take me years to write about ALL that has happened and the “reasons” behind it. It could make a really super awesome best-selling biography one day….or not).

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