Hello to my dear, beloved children. Happy Valentine's Day. I used to give you candy and hearts on Valentine's. Do you remember? I do. Not to be cliche, but you are my heart. I hold on to memories of you as children, snuggled into me, and in my imagination there you are and I can hold you and keep you safe.
Often I feel afraid, imagining what you have endured, what may have happened in your lives. When I imagine your past without meI feel as if I'm standing at the edge of a very high cliff, a deep crevasse below partially obscured with fog and clouds, and there is fear in my stomach and an ache in my legs (I am afraid of heights.)
Then, I imagine each of you surrounded by white light and love, because, what else can I do?
My middle son. It has been seven and a half years. Do you ever read this? God, do you know how much I love you? How much I always loved you and cared? You are isolated from all your family now. My parents, my sister, your dad is in Texas. (Do you know now that crack cocaine doesn't make you sleep?) I see your grandma frequently. We all spent your brother's birthday celebrating together. It would have been nice if it could have always been like that, a family that although there was divorce, feelings could have been mended or put aside for the sake of you kids, and there could have been some kind of cooperation, peace and mutual child-rearing. That didn't happen. But today your dad's mother and I get along nicely, and we are working together to give your brother support.
Your grandma told me you thought while you were growing up that I took naps in the afternoon because I was on crack. (I guess this is what your dad told you.) I'm honestly not sure because I've never done crack, but I don't think it makes you sleep. The people I've seen who do crack are skinny, lose teeth, and have nasty skin. None of which described me while you were growing up. It turns out that the bipolar medication I was on caused me to have to sleep a lot--primarily the lithium. I've since found out in the years after I separated from your dad that I do not have bipolar disorder and I was on medication I didn't need. There is no way to address the things which were said about me really, and I don't want to use this blog to defend myself against boogeymen I'm not even sure of--I just know many lies were spread. There are some things I did that I am not proud of--actions I took. However, I never left you. I did not abandon you. Our relationship was systematically and obsessively destroyed. I always loved you and wanted to be with you, and wanted to be your mother.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
More Missed Christmases
My daughter was home from college for Christmas and wouldn't see me. She did not respond to my texts. Is she so angry, so hurt, doesn't want to deal with all the pain of the past? It breaks my heart and rips me in two to think about what she went through.
I've seen her once in seven and a half years. That was a shock. I had seen a picture of her or I wouldn't have recognized her. She was not my little girl any more. She had grown a foot, so that I had to look up at her--a young woman. I just wanted to sit and stare at her, to never let her out of my sight again. I watched her, looking for signs that the little girl I once knew was in there, the spunky child.
I haven't heard anything from my middle son in over three years. We went to SuperCross with relatives recently, and their two fourteen year old boys. The boys were still young and innocent, dependent on their mother, bonded with her. She brought blankets for the boys to the stadium, even though they said they didn't need them (they were looking cool in their stylish clothes)--but they ended up bundled up under layers of blankets. I remember my son being that way, needing me still, just beginning to separate and form his own identity. And then having no mother. Gone. The last communication with him was very angry. He responded to a letter I sent him. I was trying to let him know that his dad violated court orders, that I always wanted to be in his life and his father wouldn't let me. I stated that I had always shared legal custody. He responded and said he was a legal adult now and I had no rights concerning him. He told me I could fuck off. I don't have a phone number for him any longer. I do send cards to him through his grandmother. He never responds.
I feel like I've failed my children so much. That I couldn't overcome their father--or something. I don't know if overcome is the word. I do feel my kids felt they had to chose their dad. I cheated on their father. He was wronged. And then he cut me out of their lives. And they felt like I abandoned them. I don't blame them. I wish I could fix it all. I wish I could fix their pain. I hoped so much I wouldn't be writing this anymore. That my children and I would be reunited. That the pain of missing years would melt away and be healed. But it's not.
I do have my oldest son back in my life. It is because he has Autism and Epilepsy and is not yet independent. His dad decided he was moving out of state with his new wife and their two young children. He told my oldest, who was living with him, it would be best if he did not come. My son was going to live with his grandmother. He has been close to her, my ex's mother--all these years, all three of my kids have. I think she largely stepped in to fill my role. She said he could live with her if he had a job. But by summer he still didn't have a job and his dad was moving in a few months, so at her urging he agreed to see me. We had been talking a little for several years already, but he was reluctant to see me. Now he lives with me part of the time and part of the time at his grandma's. It is such a relief to get to be with my son again. It also brings up a lot of sadness for all the missing years that have gone by. He is a young man now, not a teenager. He is more set in his ways. There is some hardness there... that is slowly softening and giving way. And the huge gaping hole in my heart isn't quite so big.
I've seen her once in seven and a half years. That was a shock. I had seen a picture of her or I wouldn't have recognized her. She was not my little girl any more. She had grown a foot, so that I had to look up at her--a young woman. I just wanted to sit and stare at her, to never let her out of my sight again. I watched her, looking for signs that the little girl I once knew was in there, the spunky child.
I haven't heard anything from my middle son in over three years. We went to SuperCross with relatives recently, and their two fourteen year old boys. The boys were still young and innocent, dependent on their mother, bonded with her. She brought blankets for the boys to the stadium, even though they said they didn't need them (they were looking cool in their stylish clothes)--but they ended up bundled up under layers of blankets. I remember my son being that way, needing me still, just beginning to separate and form his own identity. And then having no mother. Gone. The last communication with him was very angry. He responded to a letter I sent him. I was trying to let him know that his dad violated court orders, that I always wanted to be in his life and his father wouldn't let me. I stated that I had always shared legal custody. He responded and said he was a legal adult now and I had no rights concerning him. He told me I could fuck off. I don't have a phone number for him any longer. I do send cards to him through his grandmother. He never responds.
I feel like I've failed my children so much. That I couldn't overcome their father--or something. I don't know if overcome is the word. I do feel my kids felt they had to chose their dad. I cheated on their father. He was wronged. And then he cut me out of their lives. And they felt like I abandoned them. I don't blame them. I wish I could fix it all. I wish I could fix their pain. I hoped so much I wouldn't be writing this anymore. That my children and I would be reunited. That the pain of missing years would melt away and be healed. But it's not.
I do have my oldest son back in my life. It is because he has Autism and Epilepsy and is not yet independent. His dad decided he was moving out of state with his new wife and their two young children. He told my oldest, who was living with him, it would be best if he did not come. My son was going to live with his grandmother. He has been close to her, my ex's mother--all these years, all three of my kids have. I think she largely stepped in to fill my role. She said he could live with her if he had a job. But by summer he still didn't have a job and his dad was moving in a few months, so at her urging he agreed to see me. We had been talking a little for several years already, but he was reluctant to see me. Now he lives with me part of the time and part of the time at his grandma's. It is such a relief to get to be with my son again. It also brings up a lot of sadness for all the missing years that have gone by. He is a young man now, not a teenager. He is more set in his ways. There is some hardness there... that is slowly softening and giving way. And the huge gaping hole in my heart isn't quite so big.
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