It’s still a man’s world

I missed a call from the police department today. With a son with special needs living on his own, a newly licensed teenage son and a teenage daughter with mental health concerns, getting a voicemail with an officer/contact information but nothing else, that’s not cool!

I did what any mother would do and switched back and forth between attempting to reach the officer and my kids. Murphy’s Law: Once I got the kids checked off, I got through to the officer. He’s following up on a telecommunications harassment complaint.

To make a very long story short: I had to reprimand my daughter about something she posted on social media about the boy who randomly slid his hand up her shirt. Yes, HE harasses her, HE is dating her best friend since 1st grade and friend takes his side, HE bullies my daughter at school to intimidate her from talking, her mental health took a huge hit, I had to pull her out of the school, but she was reprimanded and had charges dangling over her head because of talking about it, yet this little fucker receives no consequences. His mother said, “My son wouldn’t do that”.

PARENTS: LISTEN! We’re all human and flawed. Yes, even your child. Believing that your child just simply isn’t capable of doing something is a poison like no other. If we do not have uncomfortable discussions with our children, we will only create monsters of privilege with no accountability. (See:Trump)

This whole situation is bringing up unpleasant memories. PTSD in full effect. I just don’t understand how this is still happening 20 years later?! That’s fucked up.

The conversation I had with her was to the point and unremarkable. The disgust and despair I feel for having to have had it at all … I don’t even have words to describe.

A side order of awkward

A girlfriend of mine asked if she could take me out.

I replied, “Hell yeh. Let’s do that! I’m so excited.”

This is someone I used to work with. It’s been awhile since we’ve had hangouts.

Then she says that she was glad she asked me. She said, “I was thinking to myself, ‘I’m feeling quite ballsy. I’m going to ask her out.'”

I swear to God, I am figuring out that this was a date I had just agreed to go on while she was simultaneously telling me about how depressed she had been, anxious and about intrusive self harm and suicidal thoughts.

(sidenote:this is not as alarming to me. this is something people often reach out to me about due to my volunteering as a crisis counselor and that i’m an open book when it comes to my personal experiences with mental health issues)

So, while I would have liked to have just explained the misunderstanding, timing was real bad.

I asked my teenage daughter what she would do in both situations. Tell her was the obvious go-to, but when she heard me talk about the depression, she look up at me, shook her head and said, “I guess cut your nails, Mom” *i am dead 😂*

Look, I’ve experimented, but mostly with a partner. It’s more for them than me. If I was in a relationship, I might even pitch the idea. Is that wrong?

Then, I started to review how many things I have done in my life that I was uncomfortable with, but didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings so, I just went along? The answer is a lot. THEN, I thought: exactly how far does consideration go? Jesus Christ! Is it possible to be too empathetic? Because I think I’m doomed ya’ll.

*clips nails*

Therapy

She asked me when the wheels came off and I couldn’t pinpoint it. In summary, months was the answer to the timetable. Something had happened, but what? We started retracing my steps. Tears welled up in my eyes when I talked about losing both my dogs within the same calendar year, but I broke down, shaking….sobbing, when I recounted the month of October and that was when she stopped and set the paper and pen down.

“Stephanie, trauma is not linear. It never goes away. Some days you’re in acceptance, others you’re going to find yourself right back in the grief. You were exposed to your trauma. You faced your abuser down in Court and then you isolated yourself away where it was safe.”

I told her what I thought I did wrong or should have done better, or at least different. I talked about all the digestive issues, my hair falling out, the fatigue —oh my god THE FATIGUE, the brain fog… the break up.

“Be gentle with yourself.”, she says.

I thought it was a prudent reminder that I could work into my DBT/CBT skills. I must confess that since putting this into practice, I have lost count of how many times I’ve had to use it and it hasn’t even been 12 hours.

I also kept my promise to journal.

Recovery underway…

THE Note to Self, an epiphany.

Sometimes, when I’m recovering medically, being alone let’s my mind wonder to dark corners. I get really hard on myself. 

My Dad called tonight and he wasn’t having any of it. 

As I cried to him about all the things that keep a middle-aged, single mother up at night, all the things I put away from everyone else, but Dad, he stopped me in my tracks. He told me that HE. ADMIRED. ME. That I was was one of the strongest women he knew because I have survived multiple wounds and sufferings beyond what most people would be crushed beneath singularly. 

I said, “Dad, I just feel like I’m always trying to do the right thing and I keep on coming up short.”

He replied, “You have an adopted special-needs son who would likely be dead if not for you and who you treat just like your own biological children, because he is to you and anyone else who knows you. You advocated for him through everything. You might not have much but you always get what your kids need. You raised some incredibly resilient kiddos. You have life long friends because you’re a wonderful friend. That’s incredibly rare, Stephie. C’mon, give yourself some credit.”

Just as I was going to bed, I started thinking that I had not accomplished as many things as I had wanted to today, when my dog, Zeke, walked into my room. I just looked down at him and smiled, realizing that even on my worst days, I’ve rescued five animals. Things may not be the way we want, but yet, still we have what we need; and no matter what ANYONE else may think or say…my kids still say “I love you, Mommy” and that’s all the things. 

The smallest act of kindness outweighs the grandest intentions.

Letters I meant to send

Just because I’m your relative, doesn’t mean you can act like a child and give me the cold shoulder on account of you not getting your way. 

I AM NOT YOUR PERSONAL, DISPOSABLE SCAPEGOAT.

Also, If you assume I’m okay with you treating our parents like garbage, or my kids as a nuisance to your life then you must not know me at all. Yes, I see you rolling your eyes at mother and how you resent our father’s efforts to guide you. No, there isn’t ANY justifiable reason for you to cuss at our parents over my child’s birthday cake. I have been tolerant and held my tongue too long.

I am fed up with hearing you pass judgement and blame on mother, father, myself, our extended family, your friends, your colleagues … your  landlord , any scapegoat will do; and of course, everyone else but yourself – for every wrong thing that has ever happened in your life. People can have relationships with friends and family fade without the drama. Fine, there’s no love or respect lost for you here, we get it. You can be superior to us all, but please know that your profound inability to empathize with anyone or anything that doesn’t benefit you in some way was never lost on us. Bad behavior should not be overlooked simply because you act out on people who love you. Being related to someone does not give you a free pass to hurt them. Being hurt in the past by someone you hold dear is not justification to hurt anyone else in the future. Everything isn’t about you and yes, you are still accountable for all the pain you’ve inflicted, no matter how you feel. No manipulations, no crocodile tears, no emotional blackmail. 

Pain should not be a legacy, and we as relatives should know better than to force someone to inherit our stressors and traumas, ESPECIALLY our children.

I love you, always have and always will. However …

Our love isn’t a shield that protects you from reprisal when you disrespect us

Things my kids say:

Jedi:  I want a vape pen so my room smells nice like yours. 

Diva: Her room smells ah-mazing. It smells good because she cares about it and keeps it clean. Im obsessed with your bed, Momma.  Do you know I laid down and fell asleep in Mom’s bed for like an hour and when I woke up my skin was softer. 

Me: How is that even possible?

Diva: I DONT KNOW! But it’s totally true. Your bed is magic.