Last night I took my kids to their school Halloween party. Their costumes were great and they were excited to go. My older two told me I was basically their taxi. Seeing them with their friends was great and to see how different they were from a few short years ago was so cool. My oldest used to be so shy and wouldn't run around, dance etc when we would go to these type of things and last night he was the big kid. I almost choked when he was on the dance floor with his buddies and dancing up a storm. My daughter was fantastic. She was dancing with her friends then she would go off and dance by herself. I love seeing how comfortable she is in her own skin. My youngest was feeling a bit out of his element. He stuck by me the whole time (except for the last 15 minutes) and even held my hand. He is at that stage where he is aware of himself and his environment and how it affects his feelings. I could tell he was embarrassed sometimes bored and happy all at once. Eventually he did get out there with his friends and play/dance around. There were a few moments that tugged at my heart because I could see him wanting to be independent but also needing me to be there and comfort him. He of course is the 'baby' of the kids and again is at the point where he wants to fly but not too far. I so loved watching them in all their glory. I can not believe how much they are growing yet stay the same. If you are a parent this may make sense or maybe I need more coffee.
When I was drinking, before it became a daily need, I had a hard time enjoying moments or events with them. I wanted everything to be perfect for them. I would build up everything in my head on how the situation would go and if it didn't go that way, I was disappointed. Even if they were completely happy, I felt as if I had not provided a perfect experience. The reality is, kids do not care that much. Perhaps when they become teenagers, but not so much at this age. Yet again, I would put so much pressure on myself to make sure I controlled every detail so it would turn out the way I thought it should. After time, this self induced pressure became too much and I would drink more so I would not have to feel as if I had to make things perfect and would end up eventually, not participating. Last night I did not have to do that and it was wonderful.
When I reflect on my years of drinking, I see how much I did not 'show up' for life. Somewhere along the way of growing up, becoming an adult, becoming a parent, my reality became skewed. I began to try and live like others instead of living like me. I think admiring others and how they live or carry themselves is a great thing but when it becomes internal it becomes destructive. My whole life I have compared my insides to people's outsides and they never matched up; they never will. The saying 'never judge a book by its cover' is an example of what I have been doing. I will judge the outside and think that if it is 'pretty' on the outside then the inside must be the same and that just is not the truth. How many times have we witnessed a person behaving a certain way and we assume we know why? How many times have we met people who live a seemingly blissful life? You know the people in the nice homes with the kids dressed like they just stepped out of an LLBean catalog, not a stain or wrinkle on them, their hair perfectly placed and the mini van has the stick figure family on the rear window? We don't know that inside that nice home there isn't denial, emotional abuse or anger romping about. You could walk into that home and within a few short minutes be able to tell if there is that underlying layer of love and compassion or hard, cold loneliness. You can feel disconnectedness whether you can identify it or not, you can feel something just isn't quite right. That is what my home started to feel like before 'the husband' left. It was so present when I look back, but I couldn't admit it. I knew it was there but I think I thought it was temporary.
This time last year is when the avalanche of my world started. This time last year, I knew something wasn't quite right with me and that is when I checked into a psychiatric hospital and found out my anti-depressants were not working. We went away for Thanksgiving, then my middle child had her breakdown and ended up in a child psychiatric hospital, I relapsed a few times then 'the husband' left. October into the holidays has been my favorite time of year since moving to NE and today it holds recent memories of heartbreaking pain. Today, my week in the psychiatric hospital was used against me in the court documents submitted to the judge in regards to the custody/placement motion. Although it had nothing to do with drinking and was a pro-active move so that nothing bad would happen, 'the husband' and his attorney put a spin on it to try an establish a pattern of behavior in an unfavorable light. How horrible to have something that was done to take care of myself be used against me? I have had enough 'patterns' that were unfavorable that were used there was no need to pull that into the mix. I believe this is why people with mental illness do have a hard time asking for help, because when they do, there is always a section of people that are ignorant and want to use your illness against you. Can you imagine if I had a spinal cord injury and I went to a rehab hospital for 30 days or even just a week, if they put that in a motion to try and establish that my physical disability prevented me from being a good parent? I hope one day the prejudices against people with mental illness' wains.
Besides 'the husband' walking out the day after Christmas, the other painful moments came months later when in a couples therapy session when he finally explained some of why he left. I had made some comments when our middle child was out of the residential part of the psychiatric hospital and was attending the day program. The comments I made he internalized and came to a conclusion; I was a bad mother. He never asked me what I meant and why I said them. He never even brought them up to me. I never had any clue that they disturbed him so much or that what I said led him to believe I was a bad mother. I still have not recovered from hearing that statement in therapy. I don't know if I will ever recover from that. I have accepted that is how he felt and may feel that way today, but I don't know if I can ever forget hearing those words come from his mouth or hearing his explanation of why he felt that way and knowing that he chose not talk to me about what was going on and what he was feeling. That is so terribly painful. The therapist later told me that was more likely than not a way for him to rationalize and justify the decision he had already made in his mind. The therapist in treatment said the same. Of course I tried to defend him by gushing all my wrongs and everything I put him through and the therapist wanted to know why I was trying to be responsible for his actions. And I don't know. I am still doing it and I have to stop. Guilt and shame are beasts. It is what I am doing today that counts.
I have been rambling. Processing I suppose. Like I said, this is a sad time of year. Spending so much time at the house this past week (kids were sick), was a real mind fuck too. While it was so awesome to be able to be with my kids and take care of them it was difficult being in the house for an extended amount of time and doing my typical thing. I did not have to do anything but take care of them, but it was hard not to help out a bit with laundry etc. I know 'the husband' is working a lot and taking care of the kids and I just wanted to do a few little things to make life a smidge easier for all, but in doing so it put me back in a role that I don't have today. I do not live in that house. I am not a stay at home mom today. I was in the kitchen at one point and all that was playing in my head was the day he said he wanted a separation. It played over and over and over. I could feel that repeated punch in the gut as I was standing there. I went to cuddle with the kids in the bed and knowing she had slept in that bed and they more than likely had sex in that bed made me so uncomfortable. If not in the bed, somewhere in that house. It is just wrong. Being in the house was hard and it took a lot out of me emotionally. It is weird to have feelings of relief knowing I am no longer in a relationship with him, that it is over, but also still grieving. I have to keep remembering that the end of this relationship played out like an unexpected death. It was like I knew the person was sick but it wasn't life threatening, but in the middle of the night something went horribly wrong and they died. No matter how I feel today about moving on, I still have to process all of this or it will catch me later and I am not willing to do that today.
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