Wrong Number

If you don’t love me

why do you keep me?

If you don’t love me

why do you care?

I stood before you

my hands out in supplication

tears crowding the corners of my eyes

mouth turned down

a sad clown’s frown

while raven’s clawed at my hair.

I rend my clothes

blacken my cheeks

with mascara rivers

as you stare in disbelief.

Suddenly I stop

and look at the number above you

realizing I am at the wrong house.

The one I needed to guilt lived at 217

and I was at 271.

Awkward…….

 

Not his Responsibility

I was sitting here late yesterday afternoon when I received a text from the Ex. Not that this is unusual, he has been checking in on me every couple of days. Asking if I am okay, how my week went. Giving me the encouragement that I need to make it through. I don’t deserve him doing this, I was so brutal to him when we first split up, but that is a story for another day. Back to yesterday, this was actually the second text I received from him. The first was to ask if I would take T for nights during his week while he and K3 (I may need to write myself a K list) are working. So wohoooo extra time for me.  The second text was to tell me that T wanted to come home early. (We have switched from Sunday to Sunday to Monday to Monday so the Ex  has an extra full day with T.
I was a little shocked and asked if everything was alright? I was thinking they had had an  argument or fight. Wanting to have a handle of what I was going to be walking into. The Ex reassured me that everything was alright. And than, he said those words that cut me to my very soul. T wants to come home and cheer you up. I immediately fired back that I was okay and T could stay with his dad for the night. No, he was coming home. T was worried about me.
I text the Ex back and tell him that I have told T that he is not responsible for making me happy. That my depression makes me sad sometimes, but I will always come out at the other end of the tunnel. I probably should have said ‘could you please reiterate to T that he is not responsible for making me happy’ but I assumed that the Ex would know my shorthand solely because he is the Ex. Completely unrealistic as he never got my short handed way of speaking when we were married, why would I think that he would get it now? This is not a him fault, but a me fault. I do it to everyone.
When T got home, he introduced me to Mr. Tuna and the Granola Brothers. He drew faces on the tin and the packaging. I laughed. He sat here and talked and talked to me. His friend had phoned Saturday evening, so T called him back to see what was up. His friend, C, wanted him to come over for a bit and hang out. This does not happen often as usually C is not home on weekends. T comes out of his room, it has begun already, hands me my phone and begins to talk again. I asked what was what ? Oh C had wanted him to come over and hang out but T had felt that it was better to stay home with me. He wanted to be home with me.
As much as I reassured him that I was fine and he could go, T was adamant that he was not going anywhere. He was staying glued to my side.
I again stated to him that it was not up to him to make me happy. That that was my responsibility. His was to be my son and have fun with his friends. While I molded him into a decent human being. He completely ignored me and said, ‘Of course it is mom, who else is going to make you happy.’
Is this what I have done to him? I work so hard not to have him feel this way. Even when I am crying I talk to him and explain that there is nothing that he has done. There is nothing that anyone has done. That I have to let the tears work their way through my system. But I guess he notices those small cues that I cannot hide. The ones that give away that I am not 100% myself.
I am feeling guilt. I want T to be a child for as long as possible. To have that innocence (not the same innocence a child of the ’70’s had but the version that exists now) and not be burdened with the cares of adulthood and the outside world. Yes, things are very different and kids grow up unbelievable fast in today’s world, but one thing remains the same, we do not want to thrust our children into adult situations. And yet, it appears that I am doing so.
I have written before how I make a concentrated effort when T is here. Doing the dishes, tidying up (I am still putting off cleaning apartment with the ‘well V isn’t here until tomorrow it is okay to do it tomorrow morning.’ excuse is the one I am using.) I make sure they are done. Bed being made. Little things as we both settle into our weekly routine. He is smarter than the average bear is T, and he catches the small things most would not even spot.
Today, he is not his bouncing self. Not feeling well, tummy hurts and he has a headache, covering the top of his head. I asked him if he was hungry? No definitely not that, he does not want to eat. I asked if he was saying he was sick so that he could stay home with me? No, he really does not feel well. So as I write this, I am debating whether or not to send him to school. Am I caving into and reaffirming to him that I need him if I allow him to stay home, or is he truly not feeling well and I am making a mountain out of a mole hill?
I have until 8:30 a.m. to make my decision. At the moment T is laying on the couch wrapped in his blanket, Thomas draped across his lap. He has no fever but is clammy despite having taken his shower already.
I will debate the pros and cons of keeping him home from school today. And I am going to figure out a way to ensure that my 9 year old son does not feel that he is responsible for my emotional well being.