So recently I found myself (yet again) in a very dark and sad place, pondering the how's and why's about my life and my circumstances. Things with the kids still suck - I've disconnected and I can't get back to loving them like I did.
In case you didn't realise it, I toy between embracing my step-mommyhood and despising it to the point of no return. Here I am with my latest gem - "Take no action - get more answers".
On my personal blog (that I sadly can't share with you for anonymity reasons) I wrote about a lady I recently discovered in the field of guidance and wisdom through spiritual awareness. If you're into this kind of energy aware, New Age thinking you'll enjoy Jocelyn Daher. She's a young mother, writer, Herbalist, Astrologer (and so much more) and she just emulates positivity and is a wellspring of enlightenment for conscious living.
In my blog I wrote about how Jocelyn had recently quoted Lao Tzu who said:
“If you are depressed you are living in the past. If you are anxious you are living in the future. If you are at peace you are living in the present.”
It's a quote I've heard many time's before, but it's it funny how you can hear the same thing over and over again and one day it just makes sense!
While I've been mulling over my resentments, my concerns for my future and my worry about how my life is going to turn out (and while all valid concerns, obsessing about them won't guarantee their success or failure) I realised that I've been spending my time sending energy to worse case scenario's that haven't even transpired.
So, I decided to be more present and in doing nothing and living in the present moment, one moment at a time, I allow myself to open myself up to more answers - because I'm open to listening when I'm not depressed or anxious.
The next time you're wondering how or when your situation is going to improve, be it work or personal, remember that in the stillness of simply being, we clear and mute the rumblings in our busy minds and bring ourselves back to our true, authentic state of existence.
It is in these moments that all is right with the world, because everything is already okay.
This week, we attended the children's Christmas function, the eldest rocked his moves on the dance floor, the youngest was very attentive and focused. They are both doing so well, have improved so greatly and the confidence is evident that we are doing something right.
Great apprehension
A couple hours before our arrival at the school, we are informed that their mother (who has been M.I.A to date) will be in attendance, personally I'm impressed she's making the effort. Although I'm happy for the children that their mother is showing support, I try my best to mask my anxiety at the thought of our first encounter. There is a tangible agitation between us as a couple, we both don't say it, and he even denies it, but we're both walking on eggshells, poised and in our seats.
The eruption within
Naturally, any woman who has walked my path would want to make sure that the kids are protected from any drama, that as a woman, one looks and feels confident and at one's best. As far as flawless is concerned, I've nailed it, however, within me is an unnerved shambles, hoping for the best.
The kids come off the stage, they've done so well. I'm so proud and they run into their fathers arms. Straight past me. Dagger in the front. I shrug it off.
Typically I would be the recipient of such hugs, but I suppose this is their night, it's their father and they know that mom is around. Suddenly my insecurity starts to charge from the top of my solar plexus and wants to spew out through my throat and out of my mouth, a familiar and nagging sequence that has been the cause of my disdain all year. The resentment is real and so is the rejection.
Nothing compares to the pain
The evening comes to an end, mom doesn't bother to greet me and I'm not surprised. I don't really care either. Her hair is an unkept bed of two tone outgrowth and her tiny figure swims in the jeans that carry her legs. I pity the her, but she made the effort and it's applaudable.
The boys throw themselves into her arms, and then we all say goodbye. An unfamiliar pang gnashes at my heart. Those are my boys, I seethe, and then quickly remind myself of my place in this family. I am the 5th wheel, fiercely protective over family that is both my own and by definition not. I'm torn. What is this I'm feeling?
As we walk to the car, I trail behind. The high heels I'm wearing command my steady pace. They all leave me in their hurried path as I try and keep up without really wanting to either. I feel like less of a priority and then prompt some rationale into my head with a reminder that it's very late and the traffic crazy. He's not leaving me behind on purpose, hundreds of parents and children flow toward their cars and it's way past bed time.
It's not about me and it's eating me alive. I feel rejected, excluded and unwanted. I call out to their dad to wait, a snigger can be heard behind me, it's her, great! I wanted to be this bold and united family and I'm embarrassed and deflated, caught out like the fraud I feel I am. Perhaps my ego is at play because non of this really matters, yet I'm absolutely devastated.
A fall from grace
We get home and prepare the children for bed. It's an hour past their regular bed time and so much still has to be done. I prepare their lunches as dad starts packing their bags. We've also just been informed (not consulted with) that they will be collected from their mother a day earlier from school and we are to pack up their clothing for the weekend plus one day - at 9pm in the evening. I feel left out from that decision too, it's not even important but for some reason I'm jaded.
I'm livid, but at the same time, I'm forced to know my place. I fail to keep my irritation at bay, my face is an open book and my eyes give away a story of their own, wild with annoyance. She's not here, doesn't contribute and yet I'm feeling like I must just fit in.
As we go to bed, an immature blurt of frustration comes out of my mouth, "I hate my life!", and he goes cold with shock. Personally I can't even tell you where this came from, just that it pretty much summed up the last year we have been together. I love him, I love our bond, I love our connection but I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this. Surely it's meant to get better with time?
An avalanche of emotions start to surface, I feel like a failure, a fraud and a fake. I battle every single day at the thought of sharing my life with this extended family. There is judgement from my side, a reminder of his mistakes and my own.
I'm stuck at 17. I'm stuck at the hospital where I'm terminating my pregnancy all those years ago. Is this my punishment? Should I have made a different decision? Why didn't I just do the opposite? I'm living with so much regret, such a void and so many unanswered questions.
This is my life, with no family of my own, no children, no husband, just an observer and participant when I'm required to be and then I need to back off and allow the family to sort out their issues when needs be. The family that reminds me that I'm the outsider. It doesn't help that at my age, people judge me, I've had people tell me I'm a fool for taking on this mess, but I'm still here. Two days ago a girl I used to au pair told me she's seen on social media that I'm "still avoiding the marriage thing". Well I can assure you I'm feeling so much less than a winner right now.
I'm hurting, badly, wounded by the fact that I chose this. I chose this life because of a love for a man that I've never shared with anyone. I chose this life and yet I feel as if I'm failing at it. I chose this life and yet I'm resentful. Would it be better to just walk away?
My problem is that, in my mind, this is failure.
My problem is that, in my mind, this isn't the picket fence dream I deserve.
My problem is that, in my mind, I'm not their mother. I'm the stand in. Good enough for the most part, useless against the original.
My problem is that, I want to be someones family.
My problem is that, I want my own children, my own milestones.
My problem is that, I resent that this isn't the life I chose for myself, or rather, that I hadn't envisioned for myself.
My problem is that, I am so resentful.
My problem is that, I'm so angry.
My problem is that, I wish I could undo the past.
My problem is that, I will always wrestle with regret and judgement.
My problem is that, I'm broody for the first time in my life.
My problem is that, I'm an emotional wreck.
My problem is that, I'm in a box, without a label. I give love, share joy and impart guidance, yet I'm not their mother. I'm expected to be detached, yet expected to love. I'm the fetcher and carrier during school rounds, the provider of clothing and stationery supplies. Their cheerleader and the nothing that compares to their mother whose done nothing but neglect them since they were conceived.
I'm the cleaner of wounds, the voice of reason and the co-parent during their stay with us which is during the week, every day and on weekends. I'm at a crossroads of self acceptance and self persecution. I'm in a quandary over maternal instinct and duty. I'm struggling with blood bonds versus a couple months of cohabitation in this new role.
I know I'm not their mother, but I feel like I am. I'm the protector, the cook and cleaner. I'm the one they turn to for good night kisses and giggles over Nae-Nae dance moves.
My problem is that, I've taken on something greater than myself.
My problem is that, I want to and don't want to at the same time.
My problem is that, all I can see are the con's and very little pro's to this situation.
My problem is that, I used to be independent and free and now I'm bound and held to ransom by a broken family where I feel like the outsider.
My problem is that, even if I have my own children, they will always be his first born.
If you know what my solution is, I'd love to hear it.
Until then, I better dry my eyes that have cried about a thousand tears since last night and do my best to pull myself out of this depression and into work mode before that too is jeopardized.
My depression, my anxiety and my struggle this year, the only year we've been together, all started when I lost my identity and took this all on. I'm no hero, I'm just a woman in love with a man, who is really really battling to accept her life choices.
Maybe I just need to grow up, maybe time will heal. Who knows, I don't.
Let me not try fake my way into your book of approval by telling you all the things I want you to read. Things that make me look bigger, braver and bolder than I am. I'm no pushover, I'm not a wilting flower either.
I'm a lover
I'm a lover by default, factory setting and origin. Even when I tried martial arts for 3 years, I never managed to grade past the first three exams. If I'm honest it's because I just didn't have the personal discipline to get involved or pursue a sport that included me hurting people. There were many times that I would be reprimanded by my coach for smiling while sparring, a defense mechanism or perhaps, that I just saw the fun in jumping around a ring while neither of us took shots at the other.
Don't get me wrong, there were times that I won gold in my division and even provincial colours for my weight and grade category, but I'm not a fighter.
Up against Goliath
I have no doubts about the physical contact possibilities that could erupt the day I get out of the car. The days when we have fetched the boys from their mom, I have stayed in the car, not from fear so much as respect for daddy. If I get out the car, I may regret it. I have to think of the children.
We're not dealing with a civil situation here, I have witnessed the many physical brawls that the ex has engaged in. We're talking punch up's with family and kitchen pan's being used as weapons. These people are the opposite of lovers. They are of class and culture that encourage fighting. They are the dog eat dog of our society. And I'm over here blogging - just saying.
The anticipation will kill me
Today I decided that I was going to get out the car. Not because I wanted to fight but because I wanted to get it over with. I needed to see what this mother of 2 children really looked like after her grief, guilt, pain and separation from her kids. I wanted to see the face of anguish. I was tired of waiting in the car every time with baited breath, worried that an extended fist would ambush me.
Personally when I get angry I don make up, I work out, I feel sexy.
I knew she had been running around the neighbourhood over the last few months during her 'job search'. The version of her that I remembered, had been of a petite woman, with long pitch black hair that she flat ironed at her best.
Her frame is much smaller than mine, in fact, eldest has actually asked daddy a couple months ago why men have smaller legs than woman. I cringed thinking my thunder thighs has contributed to that question.
I recall my most recent break up and remember how I flung myself into 2.5 hour gym routines, personal spoils and spa sessions. I bet she looks amazing. She holds their hearts as their mother, perhaps I was competing against more than just emotional rights, perhaps she was the sexy, stellar vixen that had left me with the scraps of a man who had been downsized by her all his adult life. What if I get out the car and she's so fit and trim and takes a swing at me with her defined arms. What if, because I'm so unfit of late, she gets me on the ground and pummels me to oblivion in front of the children.
Even worse, what happens if her whack-job sister comes at me with a knife, or glass. She does this, all - the - time so my fears are real and valid. Today, I'm getting out the car because it's time to introduce the kittens to each other. Time to let them hiss and spit and soon they will be friends.
Now when I'm backed into a corner, feeling down or hard done by, I put on make up. I have no idea why but I put about 1 hour longer into my routine than I usually would. Last Sunday I felt horrific, sinus that turned to a chest infection and then bronchitis had me feeling (and looking) less than super confident.
It was 15h30 in the afternoon, I had been laying in PJ's all weekend. Believe me this effort was necessary, I was about to face Goliath, and if I was to land up in hospital, I'd like to at least look shit hot.
Then I opened the door
I sat in the car outside the driveway. Her crazy sister was parked inside the gates. My heart, pounding to say the least. How the hell would this go down? Was it too soon? I felt like it was the right time in my heart, I just felt that the plaster needed to be ripped from this festering wound and heal naturally, fresh air and dry blood.
Taking a deep breath I opened the door, unsure if the shaking of my knees was adrenaline or perhaps the bronchitis kicking my butt. "I'll stand at the boot", I thought. This is where everyone usually all congregates. I mean, this is MY car after all, so I do have rights to open my own boot. Can you hear me reasoning with myself.
Perhaps I could just open the boot and return to the front passenger seat. Like running to the out of bounds area at school and returning to safety just to say you did it. I would have felt far more in charge and confident in my drivers chair. But, love conquers all, I keep reminding myself. This is the reason I'm standing facing the back side of my own car waiting for the axe to fall as the boys run to greet me and mom follows.
She's never greeted me. She wouldn't, it's not her style. Her style is hate. Mine, love. We are the complete opposite of the other. She hates me. I feel compassion for her, not to say I like her, don't misunderstand me. I have enough resentment to fuel a small forest fire. But, I have compassion for her pain because it is the lack of light within her that makes her so, incredibly mean. I will shine, I will shine and hopefully keep all my teeth.
And then she saw me.
Her sister stood behind her, hardened face and scowling as if I was a dirty secret, the mistress, the concubine that broke up her "loving, pure and healthy" relationship with daddy. In fact, she referred to me a couple of months ago as a Jezebel. I was impressed, I didn't realise her vocabulary was that evolved.
"The Monsters turned out to be just tree's" - Taylor Swift
I managed to calmly release a "Hello HER NAME HERE* and she mumbled in response. I knew I was doing the right thing. Her frame, still small, and although our eyes never met, my womanly radar managed to scan her once over in an instant. Her hair now cut into a frumpy bob above her ears, puffed out and blow-dried like an old woman. Her face devoid of make up, how could she have left out the make up? It's not like she didn't know I was going to be there, she always does. Where's the warrior paint? What is the trick up her sleeve or her version of strength and integrity?
As we climbed back into the car and drove off, I was injected with the rush of facing my greatest adversary. For years, even when daddy and I were not together, I would speak of her and her unsavory decisions to drink and drug through her pregnancies. I would refer to her when speaking to people about the effects of such. She was and still is, my greatest lesson. My greatest mirror.
Today she had set me free. Free from my own idea of how I was failing, heck, I was winning at this, I was winning at life! I had make upon, my war paint, AND I was the nice person who had persevered through the name calling, hours of comparison in my mind and feelings of failure. I had let myself down, beaten myself up and left myself for dead. It was never her that I needed to face, it was me.
I rejoiced!
Once alone I had a chance to speak to daddy about my new found insight in a way that wasn't conceited or boastful. I was giddy like a high school girl that just found out her crush liked her back.
I asked him if he saw her hair - her hair, the lack of make up, OMG her hair!! He nodded and mentioned he had seen it in court two weeks back. He didn't mention it to me, did that mean he liked it? Did it mean it was so trivial that he didn't care to?
I wasn't bothered, I was too happy and high on life because I had realised that I was in fact, the complete package. Not because I'm better than anyone else, not because she wasn't wearing make up, not because she had a crappy hairstyle but because I had released myself from the comparison war inside myself. I was good, happy and beautiful on the inside AND out.
Later the conversation leaked further insight to their lives together. She never wore make up, ever! She never hugged, cuddled or kissed him. She never returned "I love you's" or reciprocated his efforts of sexual intimacy. She was devoid, incapable and detached from him. Once again my heart went out to her, once again my ego took a back seat and compassion stepped in. This is what happens to addicts, they let themselves go. They leave their self care at the door of addiction and get dragged down a road of decomposition.
Yes, I rejoiced. The monsters turned out to be just tree's. I had been my own worst enemy, imagining that Kim Kardashian herself would pop out down the drive way with Louis Vuitton bag in hand. She'd be carrying tresses of well looked after hair around her shoulders and perfectly manicured fingernails that I hadn't had the privilege to afford since I took on this role.
I imagined she would greet me with white teeth and sparkling eyes, that her life would be better, greater and more awesome than mine because she was looking after herself these days while the kids lived with us. She was their mother, surely this meant she was better than me?
I imagined smooth skin and long black eyelashes, that she would smile sensually at me and then daddy with this look of 'You know you want me' as she bent down to pick up the book that had fallen from the youngest's school bag while squeezing her pert bum cheek.
But she didn't, she didn't because she's not. And if she was perfect and composed on the outside, I would have needed to extend myself just the same as I had with poise and grace.
I've extended the olive branch. If she decides to replant it, or use it as firewood, this is her choice and I can live with mine. My slate is clean, my heart is open and I'm sorry that I've been so incredibly hard on Me!
I got out the car and with that I got out of the cloud of deception I'd been living in for so, so many years! I am good enough. Hell, I'm the best version of a mom without her own kids I can be and that, is why I got out the car in the first place.
I sat with my mother in law on the couch, I've been blessed with such an amazing woman to share my life with,and as usual our home is full of laughter and playful jokes.
I've had my fair share of scary mother in laws, but this one I would say this is the closest I've come to the real deal FairyGodMother type. Recently I recall finding a plaque that read, "If I didn't have you as my Mum, I'd choose you as my friend."
True story!
I'm a little fibber
As we sat chatting on the couch, I found myself talking about the way I've managed to 'accept the hand that has been dealt' in the form of taking on two kids and trying to fit into their lives. I try and keep my conversations open and frank no matter whom I'm trying to impress, believe me I don't hide my emotions - never have, never will. Being transparent has this cathartic effect on me, my mom had always said that you "can't get any higher than the truth", so here I was sharing mine. I was sad, deeply sad.
While talking about my apparent lot in life, I'm taken aback by the deadpan stare I'm receiving back from my mother in law. "You see", I continue, "I realise that I'm not going to be able to have those two kids I've always wanted, I'm going to have to sacrifice my happiness because of finances, no one can raise 4 children in this day and age. My dreams have all been shattered" (someone que the violin) The deadpan stare continues on in my direction, followed by a wail of "Said whooooooooo?" from a now, almost giggling, in-law. Her eyes wide with investigation.
"Ummm", I manage to reply, "Well, I did".
Mother in law parts her lips with steady focus, as if she's about to pounce on me like a cat stalking it's prey. "There is no fact is what you're saying, you have no idea how your life is going to turn out or what God's plan is. You have limited yourself to your beliefs!". Her face now stern with conviction.
Penny dropped, famous "Oprah Winfrey "Aha" moment follows suit.
Change Your Dialogue
This candid conversation hits home like a ton of bricks. Yes, I've been feeling as if my mental monologue has been accurate all this time, because my conditioning has dictated that 2.5 children and 2.5 Labrador's are standard ambitions in one's life.
With 2.5 step children and 1.5 cats already in the equation, my averages for having 2.5 of my own biological children just seemed too low to dream about. The truth is, no one knows!
Not me, not you - only God/Higher Power/Insert Holy Deity here.
Our Words Have Power
I won't lie. I felt really stupid in that moment, an adjective I seldom use to describe myself at the best of times. An invisible load lifted off my shoulders in a couple of seconds as I felt the information penetrate my cerebral cortex (particularly my frontal lobe where decision making occurs) and all the cogs literally turned at the same time. No one, not one person on this planet, has the power to decide how my life pans out. No one, not even myself, has the knowledge of how many children I will conceive, birth and/or love in my lifetime - present step children included.
In fact, all of it became so clear in the moment that I, in turn, realised that none of this was part of my plan, nor was it foreseen this time last year. That's right, only God Himself could bring someone into my life that I could love so easily, so hard and so true. Someone so compatible, who makes me laugh and sing and be my 'Authentic Self' with. Someone who does in fact come with 2 little humans that now share a household with me and my 1.5 cat's. A reality I never, ever dreamed of. A reality only God Himself could have conjured. A reality that I would have laughed at a year ago, yet here it is. Who says I can't have the same reality I've always dreamed about.
If God can bring me to it, surely He will get me through it. Time will tell, until then I choose to trust in the process. You never know, until you know.
When discussing this new-found knowledge with my partner, he replied with, "You've been talking about having one child for so long that I've made it my reality too."
Just goes to show, that as women, we need to be strong and focused. Know what you want and go for it, don't waiver! Know that a good man, a really, genuinely good man, will in fact follow your lead if it makes you truly happy.
