This is why I don’t like going back and forth

So despite my writing yesterday that I do my best to not let my son know about my depression, tears, etc when he leaves, I failed. Huge. Melt down about the pants situation. All the sweats (he does not like to wear jeans but his dad persists in buying them) I have purchased since moving out on my own have disappeared. Told my son I was sick and tired of purchasing items and having them disappear into the abyss.

Told him that if he came back next week without his sweats I was done and he would be wearing shorts to school. We have like 4′ of snow on the ground. Our average temperature is -10 to -15 Celsius before the windchill. We will probably drop to like -25 or lower. I am not a perfect mom.

So after I hollered at him, he is in his room with his best friend and I hear him say “This is why I don’t like going back and forth between my mom and my dad.” And my heart dropped.

He has no choices. He is 8. His father and me decide his week to week moves. But clothes, clothes he does have a choice on. He can decide his tee shirts or the style of pants he will wear. And I realize he is stealing his sweats because that is something he has control over. He can choose whether to wear sweats or jeans. And his choice is sweats.

So damn it really it is all my fault. This actually started out as a pity me…..can you believe that he is doing this…..to an epiphany. My son likes his comfort clothes, just like his mom. Really there is no reason for me to get upset.

I know that it is a bitch for him to have to go back and forth. And there are different rules at mom’s house as to the rules at dad’s house. Sooooooo I will let him steal the sweats that he has stolen and I will buy a few to replace them. In larger sizes and than hide them. He is 8. I am lucky if he showers twice a week and changes his clothes every other day. Just going to deal.

 

Can my show be cancelled?

I have had a really bad string of luck or those who know me have had a bad string of luck.  I swear and this is only so I do not loose it and can find the humor in it, somewhere some god/ess or godling is watching an episode of my life. And my life is a comedy in his/her reality.  What I would really like is to have that comedy cancelled.

December turned out to be an absolute horror of a month.  If I chose to I could lament and whine; cry and say how the hell did this happen to me. Instead allow me to give you a visual of the last few weeks and you will understand.

Mon Dec 5/16

Incident with my mom that is all.

Tue Dec. 6/16

10% Tuesday at work. We had a snow storm blow in so the day was relatively quiet.  I was walking towards customer service and pulled my note pad from my pocket. All of a sudden something flips out of my pocket and I glance down. Suddenly horrified my eyes dart from left to right and I lunge downward only to smack my head on the counter. Why? Because a condom had flown out of my pocket. Turns out that it was a packet of tea that had been given to me for my son to try. Greyish blue in color. Like a Trojan condom. Funny thing is that I had just washed my apron and why the hell would there be a condom in my work apron?

Head home. Get stuck in the driveway five times. Five times. Finally am able to pull up. As I take the garbage down I slip and fall. Head slammed into the concrete. But hey, I didn’t drop my cigarette.

Knock on neighbor’s door because damn it someone should feel sorry for me. She informs me that she will be texting me every hour.  All night. To make sure I do not have a concussion. And she does.

Wed Dec. 7/16

Get up and go to work. Snow everywhere. Almost get stuck. Get out of car at work and nearly slip beneath it. Ouch.

Thur Dec. 8/16

I know something happened here but believe I may be blocking it out.

Fri. Dec. 9/16

Things are settling into the holiday rhythm at work. Carts have been moved into the mall so need to move back into lobby to have ready for the day. Also ended up cashiering a lot. Sudden pain in my back. I have never in my life experienced pain like this. One side of my body seized up. There was a dagger jammed beneath my shoulder blade piercing the muscle so that when I moved pain ripped through me. Went to walk in clinic. Am not sure how I finished my shift.

At walk in discover that I have whiplash. From falling and hitting my head. I had no idea that that was even possible.

Sat. Dec 10/16

Thank god the weekend can finally begin. Son is coming home at 5. Off at 2:30. Go out to my car pumped that I am going home and can relax after the week that I have had. Get into car and it won’t start. Well it turns over but it won’t fire. Ask my girl friend to boost me. She does, for two hours before ex comes and tells me I need to have it towed to his place. Awesome.

That was the start…..the next week doesn’t even come close to getting better. I look at this week and wonder how the hell did I survive? And if I remember correctly the boyfriend was suppose to come out on Friday and ended up really sick. And you wonder why I think that the god/ess or godling is having a laugh at my expense. It is funny once you get through it.

Not a Resolution

One of the hardest things I had to do in 2016 was going from seeing my son every day, hearing him tell me he loved me and giving me thousands of kisses, to seeing him every other week.  That is the custody arrangement my ex and me have worked out.  Week one with me, week two with dad, so on and so forth.

Today is the last day of my week with him.  As I write this he is still sound asleep, sprawled across the bed all long gangly limbs and cherubic innocence. Not so innocent when awake but in the coma of sleep he is still my little baby.  One might think that after 9 months of this that you might get use to it.  But you never do.  I cry every week.  I start to miss him before he is gone.  My home becomes silent and somehow less colorful.

I never let him see me like this.  The overwhelming need to cry only occurs when he is, like now, asleep or otherwise occupied out of sight.  I don’t let him know that my heart breaks when he goes out that door at 4 p.m. on Sunday. I don’t go into detail about how I will count down the hours until he returns in 7 days. I give him a hug and kiss, tell him I love him and will see him in a week.  Than I go into the house and wonder what to do with myself now.

So I read. I spend a lot of time on Facebook. I text a lot. I work. But I don’t really live. My world is drab. There are no visions of sugarplums or fairies dancing in my head.  There is depression. There is a need to self-medicate so it does not hurt so much. In doing that though one is lead down a bitter twisted road that ends only with more pain and conflict.

I am going to do something different this year. And no this is not a resolution. This is a need, a must, a chance for me to remake myself once more.  To start with I am going to write more. Write more often? Just write.  Writing is cathartic for me. It allows me to process my feelings and to work through the dark imagings that can arise.

I will live healthier. Eat better. When my son is here I cook meals and when he isn’t I eat whatever is on hand.  I need to stop that. I need to nourish my body as well as my mind. I am going to drink less and learn to live with the silence that surrounds me. And I am going to be okay with it.

In doing so I will become a better version of me. A better mom, a better friend, a better lover.