Just desserts

So there we were, toe to toe, and I realize that at that moment he actually hates me, probably at least as much as I hated my mother at that age and I have to wonder why? I never abandoned him. I never drank myself blind and made him clean me up and call in sick for me afterwards. I never brought strange men into the house like there was a revolving door on my bedroom. I never locked him out of the house or dropped him off at the mall so I could have sex. I never left him alone with a babysitter that turned around and raped him. I never hit him. I never called him stupid or ugly or fat or made him feel unwanted. And I never, ever did anything that was just for me without taking into account how what I was doing would affect his life.

I'm not saying I'm perfect, not by a long shot. I suck as a mom sometimes, especially when my depression (or my asthma) acts up and I can barely take care of myself. I have spent far too much time over the last 6 years tied to a computer but I did it so that I could get a better job. I have worked up from making just under $7K a year in 2001 to now making just over $35K a year ... still crap but at least I'm not on food stamps anymore AND I've had this same job for 4 years. I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't party or go out to meet strange men. I have had one steady relationship since my divorce and that has lasted almost 3 years and that is with a man that doesn't drink, smoke or party, a man that loves me as much as he can and even that is more than I've ever been loved before. I've been a mother and a father from the day he was born and have been there 24/7 for the past 15 years.

Let's compare me record to, oh, I don't know, the sorry ass sack of shit who has the gall to call himself the boy's father, shall we? The one that left to go on the road when his child was one year old and stay away for weeks at a time. The one that quit his good, steady job 6 months after we moved here because he didn't feel like working. The one who got fired from his next job for failing a drug test and tried to blame me. Oh, and did I mention that failing that drug test meant he lost his license so that meant he wasn't able to even work at what I had put him through school for. The one that left his family during the flood for a job in Oklahoma and didn't come back for a year (he was living in a motel there and sleeping around with all manner of slutbags) and when he did come back, he physically and emotionally tortured us all for 5+ hours because I said I wanted a divorce (yes, this was the night of the phone throwing). The one that has never gone to one single concert, PTA meeting, conference or field trip for his kids, who has never even stepped foot in their schools. The one that goes for weeks without calling yet gets angry at the kids because they don't call him. The one that doesn't remember their birthdays or even HOW TO SPELL HIS DAUGHTERS NAME. Do I need to go on? I realize I haven't even begun to touch on what he did to me while we were married but that's not the issue here ... the issue here is that HE IS AN ASSHOLE, especially to his children, and yet he is treated like a king.

So I stood there, soaking in the boys anger and pure hatred of me, feeling totally helpless, totally hopeless, and I took it all in. I let him scream and rant and rail and I just got quieter and smaller and I began to disappear. I could feel myself shrinking, pulling into a ball, willing myself to evaporate and wondering how I had let it all come to this, how I had let this happen. How had I become my mother.

He talked for a long time that night, I listened. We both cried. I slipped into an old pattern of numbing myself so I could function, of temporary emotional stasis, because he still had to go to the concert. Tears slipped down my cheeks through the whole concert and, a few times, I had to stifle sobs. I looked over at him at one point, and he was crying. Not only were we both emotionally vulnerable but the music was heart-wrenchingly beautiful. We made it through and slipped out at the end without talking to anyone.

During the concert, I pulled out a pad of paper and jotted this down. No, I don't usually keep a pad with me at all times like I used to but I had a feeling I might need it.

Dvorak helps me remember that there is still beauty to be found in this world, in every moment. No matter how badly I have screwed up, I may still be able to fix this. I don't know for sure, though. I am about out of options and I have only begun to see how deeply this ran ... he is old enough for this to be a permanent scar.

I can not continue to behave as I have. I can not yell and try to lash out when I'm being hurt. I have to find a way to still be myself and get my point across yet still give the kids what they need. I may have to quit something. I have to give myself up or he is going to end up like me.

Well, at least I think that's what it says ... my hand writing is really bad and it didn't help that I was crying when I wrote it. I'm not sure why I think I have to give myself up but perhaps that is because I feel guilty for the years I was incapable of functioning much past taking care of them. In any case, we have rounded a corner in our little family and from here on in, I suppose I'll be getting what I deserve. I guess we'll have to wait and see.