August. It feels like a year later and nothing has changed. I’m raw and tired. That sensation of lacking satisfaction with my life is lingering. I’m sitting in that space before things shift. It is uncomfortable.
Miss M had her second vacation with her Dad. It has some peaks and valleys. The valleys still have me shook. Not enough for DCF, not enough for me to bring me home, but enough I’m worried it dinged her well being. All those angry words and angry car ride. I yell and lost my temper– but I never tell my children to go home and never come back. My Ex is now on the warpath trying to take me down a few pegs. I’ll let him, honestly. I have big shoulders. I feel insulated in the fact that I do try to do the right thing one thing at a time. And that playing by the rules won’t get me anywhere right now– there will be no satisfaction or justice– but I can drift to sleep at night knowing it was my best effort and I didn’t undermine my values. One session in an he canceled the therapist we agreed on. Put Miss M in the middle with a confusing phone call about it. I have years of holding sopping messes and making them into something worthwhile. Or making them into something good. A little time and this will be the same. I just have to sit with it. Wait a little bit for direction.
Every possible thing that could be wrong with Blue Eyes is apparently my fault. Or Match’s. It feels like though the passive aggressive or lashing out that is manifesting is directed at me. I don’t know if its about me or a tactic to dig at Match. A rash from a week at our house that wasn’t there a day before she left. Fed, but malnourished. Sleeping over ten hours here, but exhausted at home. Dehydrated, but liquids and electrolytes all day. This case that she must be sub-par cared for as some sort of coping mechanism over there. I don’t know why or how this is a preference to live– but I feel, again, that all the physical manifestations are usually something emotional happening We aren’t there. Twice a month isn’t enough for me to build her a toolbox. At what price are the lessons about life and dreams being made? At Blue Eyes health it seems. How much impact does our small portion of time make that it is just so threatening? Why is fall out from sharing homes so terrible? Isn’t it lovely that she’s loved so much both at places and kept safe? Isn’t THAT worth all the little thorns that irk her parents as she moves form one home to her other?
Once you decide not to carry on in life with your Ex, but move forward with your child– there is just fall out and compromise. I don’t understand why our Exes want to cut that out? How changing things at one home to accommodate their homes makes it better? That’s not the real life our kids are living… better to work with how things are and find it perfect as it is. I don’t understand why not fighting the tide makes us love our children less? We don’t have to change things here to make it easier there. Nor should the other parents. But we do have to accept somethings there are things that carry over. Pieces of both homes make up the child we share. It isn’t the drop off time or the sleep that will change that. It isn’t my question, “Are you safe? Even if you don’t like Daddy’s rule, can he take care of you right now?” that is the problem. The TV shows or screen time isn’t the problem. The problem is that the other parents expect this to be a certain way– and that’s not how this works. That’s not how life works. Imposition and inconvenience and messy emotions are what blending is. It is not pretty all the time. Its gut-wrenching and emotionally challenging mostly.
We hit the financial wall. Two back to back lawyer bills and full day kindergarten. And so, the little luxuries are going to cut out this fall. No sports, no YMCA, no dance– I have to swallow the things I want to give my kids for a season. It will be okay. But seeing Miss M have to start over at her Gym will stink. Dimples not getting an extracurricular will stink. I’m still chewing on it. But there are only two ways to have enough: Spend less or make more. I started to job hunt, but logistics are a challenge. So we will spend a lot less for a while.
I have an idea for a book. I am chewing on competing ideas. Yes, there is room in the world for it. Yet, even though it feels true for me, should it be put out in the world. I have only my experience and no authority. No education on some ideas I want to broach. No validation. Other than it worked for my family. And to write a book using that advice makes me worry about how great my ideas are to be put in the world? What if its the wrong thing to do?
So I’m sitting in the the shallowness, not breathing deep these past weeks, waiting for that moment when the day will open up a little bit. Trying to make a little magic and help myself along. I know I’ll get there– limping, crawling, or hobbling. Not sure, strong steps right now. But forward regardless of speed or solidness in the process. It always rotates back to the place of deep breaths, clear vision, and feeling satisfied with life. But right now, I’m in the time before that all happens. I’m sitting with it. There isn’t much more to be done other than wait and move forward until the sky clears.