My Family (has lost its mind)

There are many ways to cope with life's challenges. I've tried a few different things. Namely, I've tried religion, education, politics, heavy drinking and cannabis. I've numbed myself out with sex, drugs, and rock n' roll too (sorry if that shocks you, but most likely it doesn't) and I've concluded a few things. I've learned (the hard way, of course) there are no answers at the bottom of a beer or wine bottle though I have looked for them there quite a few times. I do not touch the hard stuff though, regardless of how I feel, so I can't attest to what may be at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey, for example, except perhaps death. Drinking was never a part of my everyday life when I was growing up, but through a series of very poor choices, I discovered it anyway. Oh well. 

Another way to cope with life's challenges is through hard work and dedication to one's talents and passions. This method is much more effective and one I try to practice daily. Through a stoic's approach to life, I find a daily desire to simply be good to myself has been the most powerful coping mechanisms of all, especially when I wake up in the small hours of the morning in silence, alone, wondering what is ever going to become of me. I fight through the doubt and fears that constantly nag at me and I just get my ass out of bed and find something constructive to do. 

I've gone through a divorce recently (in case you didn't know) and, unbeknownst to me, my marriage was such a joke to everyone else in the entire world, no one expects me to feel anything about it at all. I've discovered a variety of reactions from the people I've interacted with since I moved back home in 2022. The most upsetting one is the reactions of my kids, who have all but totally abandoned me at this point and I don't mean to sound dramatic but it sort of has this left-for-dead sort of tone that I cannot quite account for, but the rejection I feel is very real and it robs me of my sleep more often than not. Some folks seemed to be gleefully disinterested in my divorce, as if it is fun for them to see me in pain. Others are happy that I finally "saw the light and left that man" and even more incredulous, certain love-interests suggested my divorce papers are falsified and my lawyer was a charlatan. I have to just shake my head because I really had no idea anyone cared, or didn't care, so much, as the case may be. One thing I do know is most people who know me sort of look at me with an small dose of pity as if to say they are glad I finally came to my senses and stopped playing house with "a guy like that". Okay. Well, I had no idea that it was all such a joke from the outside looking in, probably because I was stuck on the inside, looking out. So be it. It is over. The divorce papers are 100 percent LEGIT as is my divorce lawyer and divorce therapist as well and now that the dust has settled, I am free to go off into the world, jilted forevermore. I can throw my angst in a backpack and head to the Carpathian Mountains, I can lock my apartment door and forget the world exists, I can drift off into a dream of career pursuits, I can write a book, or pet my cat, or whatever. Isn't life grand? 

All this freedom has not yet gone to my head but I will bear my heart on my sleeve and tell you why I am up at this early hour on my one day off per week, writing this blog post. The problem is stress, most assuredly. It nips at the edges of my heart and twists my stomach all in knots and the source of the stress is, for once in my life, not based on the economics of my household, but the familial relationships with my offspring. Yesterday, I came across a very disturbing picture of my youngest kid and my ex-husband's newest blow-up doll (ahem, girlfriend), looking every bit like a miniature version of said individual, red hair and all (classic). She's not an ugly women per se, except for whatever is on the inside of her, compelling her to suggest my kid is actually her kid on some level, sprinkled in with posts about her own kids and a few videos of her singing (sort of like the sound a cat makes when it is in heat). I almost wish it were true that my youngest kid was actually her kid because my youngest kid and I clash so hard I just can't stand it anymore, but there's the crux of the thing. It's the clashing that indicates the heritage, in my opinion. Nevertheless, this upsetting turn of events is the reason my stomach is in knots and my stress is at an all time high this morning. I hate stress, by the way and I hate seeing a clearly unstable woman use my kid in her little game of "look at me!". It pissed me off, in other words, and the mother bear in me rose up full force. 

Seeing a picture of my kid in a setting like the one I just mentioned troubles me in two ways. It is an obvious attempt to ruffle my feathers, which it did. Unfortunately, when my feathers are ruffled, I sort of adopt a type of gangster persona and certain phrases circulate within my imagination such as "I'll cut a bitch", for example. In reality, I wouldn't cut a bitch but it feels good to imagine that I would. I hope that doesn't shock you and cause you to feel panic and fear that I am about to do something stupid. On the contrary. I do not plan to do anything stupid. In fact, what I plan to do is stay as far away from the girlfriend, and subsequently, the youngest kid, because I have no intentions of stooping so low as to put myself in harm's way due to the colossal insensitivity I am experiencing from nearly every direction. The other way it disturbs me is how innocently and easily my kid allows themselves to be lead like a lamb to the proverbial slaughter, trusting everyone in the entire world with their well-being except ME. Their innocence is gut-wrenching but my desire to protect them has no where to go because they've been duped into believing I am to blame for everything negative they've ever experienced. It's bullshit, but everyone needs a scapegoat I guess and when it comes to being the scapegoat, my horns are up. Way up. Hail the dark lord (I jest, I jest). 

So, at times like this, I sit back and think. How amusing. How bizarre. I gave nearly half of my life to this man and these two kids and here I am, writing a blog post like this on May 7, 2025. I had my abdomen sliced open from hip bone to hip bone in order to bring these people into the world. My ex-husband observed my womb as it was removed from my body and put back again during said procedure as well, for example. But it means nothing to them now. Now they enjoy the spoils of my sacrifice and hard work and somehow I am the bad guy in the equation. It baffles me. It baffles me that I am the bad guy to some, the naive fool to others, the empowered woman, the falsifier of documents, the catfishing victim, the object of desire, and the lonely woman who sits alone in the solitude of her apartment– but at least the rent is paid (bright side)! 

I don't know how to make this blog post make sense, all I know is I am hurting. I had dreams for my family, especially for my kids. I wanted them to excel in school because I know how intelligent they are. I wanted them to pursue higher education and get good jobs. I wanted them to have healthy relationships and enjoy the freedom that comes with becoming an adult. But, I was robbed of all of that. Instead, I get social media posts from a red headed Twinkie who is trying to steal my family away from me. I used to want to fight for them, to get them back and back on track so they can move forward with their lives, unhindered by the ramifications of their father's inability to keep it in his pants. This morning, however, I admit defeat. If I have no value in the lives of the human beings I brought into this world, so be it. Then let me revert all the hopes and dreams and worries and fears I carry for them and utilize that energy to better my own life. I was perfectly willing to accept responsibility for my own kids, but I see it is not required of me, for whatever reason. Alright. The art of coping also includes a keen awareness of how and when to let something go. I can let go. I don't mind at all. Because while I am trying to hold the line for them, my hands and heart are not free and I am very very tired. Letting go invites a freedom I have never known before and that's kind of exhilarating. Let me be free. I think that sounds like a pretty good thing. If all my best efforts have ended in this murky unsavoury soup of insensitivity and dismissiveness towards me? Well, that's not my choice, that's their choice. So, after an extended e-mail battle between my kid and myself yesterday, I choose to walk away and focus on bettering myself and my life. I can't win any victories here at all and if I don't soon accept that fact, I don't know what will happen to me. I can't carry this load anymore, that's all I know. All my dreams have come to an end when it comes to my hopes for my family. There's nothing I can do about it now. They are on their own trajectory and will suffer their own consequences and experience their own triumphs, as a result. I can't help and I definitely don't want to hinder. I wish it were different but I know I did the best I could–as trite as that may sound, it is still very much the truth.

My intentions in the years to come is to experience the world without the weight of it half-killing me. I release myself from the burdens of the past. I wrap my heart in a soft warm reassurance. I plan to take good care of myself, just as I tried to take good care of my family. I was apparently a total failure, according to the feedback I am getting from said family. So be it. I tried. I failed. With failure comes the opportunity to learn so I won't go into the future with blinders on. I will keep my eyes wide open from here on out. I won't be so naive. However, I do know that life can be long, or cut short. Life will ebb and life will flow. Life is precious. My life is precious to me, if no one else. And I also know there has never been a day in my life where I was sure I didn't need my mother. I know I need her and she is very quick to tell me she needs me. I like that. It's honest. It's true. It's based in reality and basic human needs and the desire to love and be loved in return. These are equations I can deal with, as old-fashioned as the math may be. I won't let bitterness get the best of me. I still cherish the devotion I feel for my family and I will carry on loving them from afar, even though it seems everyone has lost their goddamned mind.