September

I’m struggling with the last month. We went on vacation and everything seemed fine and now…. I’m just trapped in my head. Liam’s 18 now and I’m freaking out about that. He got into his first choice college and I’m freaking out about that. He’s a senior now and I’m freaking out about that. It’s all great and wonderful things and I’m really over the moon for him. It’s just scary that my role is changing so much. I’m not a mommy anymore. I’m not mama. I’m mom. Sometimes, momma. Sometimes even bruh… which I hate. I miss being mommy. I miss it so much. I miss chubby, sticky arms around my neck and carrying him around. Now I’m just comic relief and occasional emotional support. I tiptoe around making requests because who knows when the teenage attitude will come out? He even opts out on trips to see his gramma, preferring to stay home with the dog, playing video games, and watching sports. I miss him.

I spent Labor Day weekend with Sara and her family and it was really fun. We went to a craft market and I found so many nifty things and even got to spend time with a couple llamas that were there. I got art and pottery and even a really cool new purse. The afternoon on Saturday was spent going to witchy shops where I got a bunch of really awesome books, teas, and Sara got me a back flow incense burner, which is really cool. I burned it three days ago and it still smells delightful in here. It was a really nice weekend and I don’t really understand why I’m struggling so much.

I keep wanting to reach out to my family and I know full well they don’t want me to. They want me to disappear and I changed my name so I could. I’m so conflicted about so much. Did I do the right thing in changing my name? Was I right to tell my mom I was done… again? Am I doing okay helping Sara through this whole thing she’s going through? Am I okay? Should I start cutting again? (which, what the hell would it accomplish? shame?) I know it’s just September. I know this month just needs to pass and I’ll be okay again… well, as okay as I get. I just hate this feeling of helplessness.

Oh, and we have huge ass spiders outside on our patio so I can’t sit outside and read while the weather is finally nice. I know I could de-spider and de-web the patio, and we have, but they come back so fast. I finally called the apartment office to get them to spray for insects, but that doesn’t solve the four giant spiders in the window in the back bedroom. I know all the virtues of spiders. They kill mosquitoes, they help the ecosystem. But I am absolutely terrified of them. I have nightmares about them. I hate hate hate them. *sigh* I’m babbling.

Long time no see

Life has been difficult. Coronaland is calming down and yet it shouldn’t be. I’m still masking as much as possible. I’ve noticed I’m much more frightened about going out into public than I was in the before-times. I didn’t like being around people so much before, but now I just don’t have the energy to even be passively social. I used to go to Starbucks and read or write and listen to music… the thought of it now just seems too much.

I’ve been writing a bit more at home though… poetry even. Nothing remarkable or really worth sharing, but it’s still writing and it’s still something to do. My book became two books and then I read in a writing group that you’re *never* ever supposed write a sequel if you haven’t had the first book published professionally. *slams head on desk* It’s okay. I’m still gonna write both books. I’m avoiding the third. Seriously. There’s a possibility of a third, but I do not have the energy to write that book. I really wish I could tell anyone reading this what happens. It’s a boat load of drama and finally brings in the Peter Pan element, which I know, given my characters, I should have gotten to it and I should go for it, but I really don’t want to deal with weaving in Barrie’s characters to mine. It makes the goal of my story seem pointless though. Which, if I ever get around to self publishing it, you’ll totally understand.

I got some big things going on…

Guys. Writing is happening again. I made the decision to chop my book in half and omg. Best decision ever. I have one book that is essentially done (needs editing!!) And another that has me excited to keep writing. I wrote two chapters yesterday. I haven’t written that much in at least a year!! I’m excited to see where my characters go and how to resolve the storyline, but it no longer feels like a mad dash to finish or like I’m slogging through plot. Though I’m sure both will happen eventually. I’m positive the slogging will happen.

I want to drop all the deets on this. Like ALLLLL of them, but since this book is a resolution to the first, I can’t say a word. Other than…. I’ve named them.. for now. The first one is “this is a piratical romance”. The sequel is “this one has torture in it”. Though that one may change. There is torture, but I don’t know just how much there will be. Writing torture is the most fun I’ve ever had writing though. Seriously. One quote I’ll give you from book two about torture….

“It’s not so bad once you let your conscience and inhibitions go. After a while, it becomes fun.”

Adventures in Adulting

So it’s cold here. Like 7th layer of hell, I couldn’t have been this bad in life, kind of cold. It’s colder elsewhere, but I’m still regretting my life’s decision to stay in the Midwest. I tried to be a responsible adult before bed, opening all the sink cupboards and letting a trickle of water go down the drain. This morning, I was awakened by Liam saying “Mom, we have a problem”. Shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. Run to the kitchen to discover a pond (too big to be a puddle, too small to be a lake or inland sea) of water stretching from under the sink to the carpet in the hall and slightly beyond. Grabbed all the towels. ALL the towels. Flopped them down and turned off the sink and called maintenance. Super adulting award because Gods know I was barely conscious enough to spell my name correctly.

Anywho, I clean out the under the sink world and throw out a lot of boxes to things. Including an empty file organiser??? Wtf. Maintenance man arrives and inspects. It’s the faucet, not the pipe (thank you sweet baby Osiris). He then looks at me like I’m an idiot because my kitchen wall isn’t an outside wall and explains that there is a hall on the other side. I realise I, in trying to be an adult, have only succeeded in being an idiot with a big fail attached to it. Oh well, you win some you lose some. He fixes the faucet, I thank him and go back to bed.

It’s been a day.

Maintaining boundaries

I finally told my mother I was, once again, done. I gave my reasons – her lack of empathy, her inability to actually engage with me without bringing up Liam, her passive aggressiveness, etc – and tried my hardest to be emotionless about it. Just facts. Just honesty about my feelings without letting them get involved, and tried very hard to keep malice out of it. The response I got was typical of a narcissist and specifically her. She took the position of a victim and talked about how cruel I was. She claimed she’d never be good enough for me. She tried to gaslight me and claimed she’d had to remind me several times in our text threads not to be hateful. I checked over 18 months of texts and only found one occasion where she told me “don’t go there” and that was literally the last time I texted her. I was very careful with what I shared and very careful with what I said. I was polite. Her need to gaslight me was typical. She closed by trying to taunt me into a fight by accepting my “need to attack and withdraw”. Mmmhmmm.

She did say some true things though. She will never be good enough for me because all she can offer me is abuse. I’ve created a mother figure in my head that no one could possibly live up to as well. She also said she can never regret or apologise enough. That is true. She spent 30 years abusing me. I have scars and wounds that will follow me the rest of my life. I will doubt my worth and worthiness of being loved for well after she’s dead and gone. Why should I let her off the hook so easily?

There’s a petty and mean part of me that desperately wants to go after her and destroy her emotionally, but I know how fruitless that would be and in the end I would end up feeling worse than I already did when she responded. I don’t need that. I told Sara last night that I feel, in the depths of my soul, that the only way I could possibly make her or any of my family happy would be to die so that their collective shame would be gone. In the light of day, my fight has returned and I wouldn’t give any of them the satisfaction of knowing they’d driven me that far. Not to forget how that would destroy Sara and Liam.

I recognise now I shouldn’t have embarked on this foolhardy journey to fix this relationship. It was just to honour my Gramma and I think she would have wanted it to end sooner had she really known how bad things were. I feel like I am starting all over again, though this time I know what I’m doing and what I’m giving up. I don’t want to deal with her and her denials anymore. I’m at a point where I feel like I need to slam and lock this door shut, regardless of what she may do in retaliation. She’s never going to grow as a person and to be honest, that’s just sad for her. She has likely replaced me in her life and that’s fine now. I’m sure I’ll waffle back and forth and write angry and hurt letters to her in my journal, but I don’t need or want her in my life anymore. I did everything I could to fix the relationship and while she never flat out said she didn’t want me, I’ve dealt with her long enough to know how to read between the lines and extract her meaning.

Boundaries are hard, but incredibly important.

Don’t let them dull your shine

This past week was both good and bad. I let go of a friend because I recognised that her manipulation and willingly untreated mental illness issues were impacting me horribly. We talked daily, but I struggled to feel joy from it for a while now. I felt I was being forced to play in the Mental Health Special Olympics all the time and that I was constantly being invalidated because she always had to have it worse. I felt guilty for having Sara and Liam because she had no one. I felt guilty for spending time with them because I would ignore her for them. I couldn’t take time for myself for self care because she would take it personally despite her occasionally taking time for herself. I felt I had to clear it with her. No one should have to feel that way about a friendship.

What solidified my decision to walk away was her inability to accept why I was upset, dangling an apology for something that was a non-issue, and then invalidating my feelings of being upset and turning herself into the victim of my temper. I’m sad and frustrated by the whole thing and I feel guilty because she had pushed everyone else away and had finally succeeded in doing so with me.

I also found a poem by Courtney Peppernell that spoke to my situation and I took it as a sign.

“Healing and self-care are not only about the things you surround yourself with but also the people. Find people who are forgiving and patient and fair. Find people who show you kindness and accept you on the days you struggle. Find people who don’t make you feel guilty for focusing on yourself.”

Don’t let anyone in that isn’t rooting for your success. If you’re reading this, I’m rooting for you. You are amazing and you can accomplish anything. 💜💜

Blocked

I’ve been stuck for ages trying to think of something to write. I’ve been trying haiku as a challenge, and then tried poetry, but it comes out like something by Rupi Kaur and I feel so inauthentic for not being able to find my own voice or style. Then I remembered that lots of people write sonnets, and in iambic, and just traditional poetry. *sigh* I just feel like I’ve been dammed up. Literary constipation?

Journaling helps some. I’ve been writing letters to my siblings and parents. Mostly fuck you letters. It’s cathartic, but I also feel like there’s no point to it. I asked my therapist… no, more like proposed that I actually am to blame for what they all put me through. That it’s all my fault because I am inherently bad. She shut that down fairly quickly, but it doesn’t seem all that far fetched. Why else would an entire family (excepting my father’s side) turn on a small child? I mean… it’s ridiculous and absurd and mind boggling to me.

Sara’s struggling right now with her mental health so I can’t really turn to her right now. I don’t even know if I’d want to. Her childhood wasn’t perfect, but I feel like she really can’t understand what I went through as a child who was never wanted once I didn’t save my parents’ marriage. She was very much wanted and loved, despite a difficult environment. Nothing was intentionally inflicted though. It’s apples to oranges I suppose. I can feel the wall going up between us though and it sucks. Hopefully it’s just temporary.

Things with my mother have halted completely. Last I heard from her was a Merry Christmas in an email subject line and that was that. I’m relieved truth be told. I don’t want her to know me anymore. I don’t want her approval, despite knowing there’s a part of me that needs it. I was duped into thinking she wanted a relationship with me and I’ll never fall for it again. What a selfish, self center narcissist. I wish I could say I wish her well, but the truth is, I just wish she’d forget she had me and leave me alone.

NaNoWriMo

I’ve always been fascinated by people who can do the National Novel Writing Month (November). I’m not sure I could do it. I know I could try and that’s a valid point, but I get scared that my words aren’t enough or important enough or worth writing down. I’ve spent the last few months writing poetry in my head that never gets written down for that exact reason. I’ve always felt my writing to be self indulgent and that stands particularly true to my poetry. Wistful, depressing, and longing for something better out of life. Like a novella I was once working on.

It was interesting to write and part of my healing process from my mother and family where I wrote about how I felt things should have gone for me. How I longed for a safe place to land. How I wanted to protect the small child within me from the dangers that lay in my path. I wrote a lot of it. At least 15 or 16 chapters. It was cathartic and healing at the time and now… gods I look at it with the same embarrassment I do my journals from middle school where I fancied myself in love with my 8th grade science teacher. Ugh. Just awful writing. No. The writing is good. It’s the concept. Good in theory and an excellent and fantastical way to make things right, but there’s a season for it and for me that season has passed. I’ve had a few people encourage and some pressure me into finishing the book for the sake of posterity, but I don’t see the need anymore. I’m still healing, especially from this recent round, but I’m not bleeding anymore.

I have another story I’ve been working on. It’s based upon a list of prompts and I really liked where it was going, but somehow I got it into my head that I had to hand write it and lost interest after that. I’m afraid of the blinking cursor. The blank page. And of creating a world of magic when I feel I know nothing about it. Fantasy isn’t my genre and it intimidates me. There are so many brilliant authors of magical lands that I feel nothing I could write could ever live amongst those works. Imposter syndrome, I suppose. One part of the prompts was “red hair in thick braids” and I just wrote an entire book with a red headed heroine, so I immediately found a way to use magic to turn it white. Not a genius move, but I’m pleased with it. Anyways…. This isn’t my year for NaNoWriMo, but maybe I’ll write something for fun instead of a deadline and a competition for word counts.

A new normal

It’s been an age since I wrote, but I’ve been doing what everyone else has been doing… adjusting to a new world where hugs don’t exist and masks are the latest required accessory. At least if you’re a decent, empathetic person who isn’t just focused on themselves. I’d apologise for that, but I don’t want anyone to die simply because I don’t feel like wearing a mask.

Anyways… as of this Friday, I will have spent 8 months at home with Liam. He’s schooling from home, thank the gods, and struggling to adjust to it. His friends are all at the physical school while he stays home and that’s hard. His school finally went 100% virtual this week after the athletes threw a covid party on Halloween.

I don’t know what’s prompted me to write today. I have struggled with isolation. We’ve gone out to a few places, bookstores and the grocery store, but otherwise we spent our summer going for long drives and walks. I still feel trapped, but I’ve been able to see my therapist via telehealth, thankfully.

Which brings me to my mother, I suppose. Last month she tipped her hand and showed me why she’s tried to maintain a connection with me. It’s always been Liam. Don’t get me wrong, he’s awesome. I just needed to be enough for her and with her loud cry of “I want my Liam back!!!”, I realised I never will be and blocked her number. It took a few weeks, but I emailed her saying I wanted an email relationship from her from now on and she hasn’t responded. I doubt she ever will. I also wrote her a long letter in my journal. There’s so much hurt and anger between us and I wish I didn’t believe so firmly that the only way I could possibly make her happy is just by dying. I’m not suicidal, or at least not more than normal, but it hurts to feel that way. I’ve had to remind myself, repeatedly, that this is how narcissists work. They live for the kill and will lie in wait for it. I learned a valuable lesson and it’s not going to be forgotten. I almost fell for it.

Coronaland

I’m still here. I’m isolated with my family and we’re bored. Ive started playing a discussion prompt game on my Facebook to keep people engaged and it’s been nice.

I’m doing alright, I suppose. My coping skills are kind of out the window, but I’ve managed to acquire a few others that are okay. I bought a new keyboard and it’s nice to play and be creative that way. I’ve been trying to be kind to myself and to not dwell on things I can’t change, but it’s amazing what you start to miss. I miss the independence mostly. Being able to go to the grocery store instead of sending Sara in my stead. I’m enjoying the memes where I’m encouraged to stay home “for the good of the realm” or that I’ve “taken an oath of solitude until the scourge is purged from the realm”. It makes it easier to pretend this doesn’t such quite so much. It completely invalidates the notion that I could stay inside a cabin for a month for a million dollars. Make it 50 million and we’ll talk. Who knew that the ability to leave the house was taken for granted so very much. Now I’m just scared to. I’ll go for car rides just to get out of the the house, but it’s not the same as just going to Homegoods for no damn reason or our Friday night routine of Village Inn, followed by a trip to Half Price Books or Barnes and Noble. I miss that kind of family time. Sure we watch movies and build Legos and play games, but it’s not the same.

I could probably say a lot more about my fears – what if the autumn wave is worse? What if Liam ends up missing more school? Etc – but I’m trying really hard not to focus on them. Life’s hard enough in Coronaland and I don’t need to borrow trouble. The most pressing item on the list is the debate on whether or not to go to my sister’s wedding. I want to go desperately, but this virus scares me and I know Sara wants to cancel just out of fears for me and my immunocompromised self. I guess we’ll see. I’ll probably just order my bridesmaid’s dress off of David’s bridal and call it good. It’s somewhat affordable and makes sense size wise. I can always alter it at home if I need to and if the wedding is postponed, I have a pretty dress to go in next year.

Things with mom are good though. I have a bitch of a kidney stone right now so she’s been checking on me daily. It’s nice to feel cared about even if it intimidates me. I think we’ve come pretty far in almost a year. I just hope we keep making progress. I was going to suggest she and I get coffee when I’m in town for the aforementioned wedding, but I suppose we’ll see, as with everything else.

I’ve been writing a little bit. Nothing extraordinary, though I did write a bad poem the other day. I guess my inability to concentrate helps with that. I put it in my book of poems I’ve been writing since forever… well almost 2 decades. There’s not a lot in there, but it’s all decent. I’m considering adding in my short stories to bulk it up a bit. Oh well.

Hope y’all are well and surviving.