survivingmyboyz
tales from a stay-at-home mom of four boys
New Look, New Site
I started this blog almost 10 years ago as a way to document some of my misadventures with my boys. Since then, despite frequent breaks, the content of my blog has shifted and changed and my writings aren’t just about raising my boys anymore. So, I decided that it was time to update the look and move to a more fitting blog name, one that encompasses more than just stories about parenting, since there is so much more to me than just that. In the coming week, I will be launching a new wordpress blog site that connects to this one with a broad range of topics. I’ve been working on new content and am in the final stages of perfecting my more stylish, updated site. I am also cmmitting to more frequent content updates to this site for the next year as parts of my life begin to down shift, freeing up some of my time, and new oppurtunities arise, bringing about a wider array of topics to blog about. I hope you will check out the new site when it launches soon. Check back for coming details and links!
I am a gum wrapper
I am a gum wrapper. I serve a purpose for a brief period of time. I protect the gum, make it feel safe, keep bad things from getting at it. Eventually that gum is chewed and I am crumbled up and tossed to the side, shoved in a pocket in case I am needed later. I lose my luster and am left in limbo. Will I be needed again? Is there another use for me? Yes! When that gum is all chewed up and no longer good, I am given purpose again, but only for a moment. I am wrapped around that unwanted gum and tossed out in the trash. I am a gum wrapper. I am trash with a purpose, easily tossed aside.
Drowning in insecurity
I lost a lot of things when I choose to walk away from my marriage. I lost a 17-year relationship, my best friend, my hopes for the future, the life I was accustomed to, but the biggest thing I lost was my sense of security. I am a pretty self-assured person for the most part, but I still have a good number of insecurities, just like everyone else. However, ending my 13 year marriage robbed me of any sense of security that I ever had, even if it was a false sense of security.
I am currently living in a state of complete upheaval with fears of what my future might hold. As a result of my pending divorce, in a matter of months, I will have to sell my family home of the past 7 years, uproot my kids, and move them back to a state that they barely remember from their childhood. I haven’t worked in 8 years and now I need to look at reentering the work force after a very long break from it. When I first stopped working to stay home with my kids, it was one of the most difficult decisions I had to make. I was riddled with anxiety over it. I’d held some type of job since I was 10 years old. I’d always had a way of making money and supporting myself to some degree. I often worked multiple jobs, including throughout college. After having kids, I often fantasized about staying home with them, but never really thought it would become a reality. I even switched jobs at one point to prolong my ability to work while still being a good mother. That job ended up being a nightmare. When I found out I was pregnant with my third child and that my pay wasn’t even going to cover the cost of childcare for three children, I was a little relieved to feel forced to stop working. That didn’t mean I wasn’t in a panic about it. By not working, I felt like I was losing part of my, not to mention the waste of my education that I’d worked so hard to complete. More than anything though, I was afraid of becoming that woman who took time off from work, sacrificed her life for her family, only to find herself, a decade later, divorced and needing to do the difficult task of going back to work to support herself. Basically, exactly what has happened to me.
In my marriage, I felt secure in many ways. I felt secure that someone loved me, was there for me, that I was financially taken care of, that my kids and I would never starve, that things would always work out somehow because I wasn’t alone. All of this, of course, was a false sense of security. My husband had secret credit cards and an addictive spending habit that, at times, made it hard for me to buy groceries for the kids or pay for things we needed. Often times, at the end of the marriage, I felt like I was doing it all on my own. I wasn’t even sure that he still loved me. There were so many lies, half-truths, and hidden secrets that my security in anything began to wane. I thought leaving him wouldn’t feel too different because I was already doing it alone for the most part. This feeling, however, did not prepare me for the stark reality of actually doing it all alone and the amount of insecurity about everything in my life that I would experience.
I try so hard to put on a brave face and pretend that everything is going to be ok. I’m like a cat, I always land on my feet, I’ll make it through this. If I keep thinking these things and remain calm, then my children with believe it and they won’t panic. Inside though, I am screaming with panic and insecurity. I feel like nothing is ever going to be okay ever again. I am moving back to a state that I never intend to live my life in. A place I never felt like I fit in. I picture my future as lonely, working multiple jobs to keep a roof over my kids’ heads, living on food stamps and state medical care. I see myself even more exhausted than I constantly am, taking care of four boys by myself. My life will be completely about my boys and working to keep them happy and give them the things they need. There will be no romantic partner to emotionally support me. Even if I had time to date, who is going to want to be with a middle-aged, single mom of four crazy boys? No one in their right mind. Not to mention, that no one will ever love my boys or me enough to stick around. Anyone who seemed interested I would immediately become suspicious of what their true intentions were.
The whole experience has left me so raw and insecure of everything in my life. I’ll never be able to support my boys all alone. Teachers aren’t exactly rich and have a hard-enough time supporting just themselves, forget about a family with four growing boys. I’m going to be so worn out doing it all that I’m going to miss out on actually being a good parent. My boys will become teens and I’ll see them between jobs, never really knowing what they are up to or what trouble they are getting into. I’ll be doing the best I can, and it will still fall short. They will probably hate me for taking away the lifestyle they are accustom to, even though that lifestyle wasn’t sustainable even with their dad. All the lies in my marriage have made it impossible to trust anyone. I can’t even trust myself half the time. My thoughts are constantly conflicted. I’m not even sure what I am feeling half the time because I am too afraid that if I acknowledge any real feelings, the flood gates with break and I’ll come undone.
I am so full of fear and anxiety. I fear not being good enough, not enough for my boys, not strong enough, not having enough money, not having support that I need, not being able to trust anyone, not feeling loved or lovable, not feeling worthy of anything, not being happy ever again, not being able to do it alone. My fear engulfs me often at night. I lay in the darkness of my room, hot tears running done my face as I try to quiet my mind enough to sleep. There is no security in my future, I am walking on uneven ground. I feel like I’m trying to climb up a hill made of sand. Every time I start to make progress up the hill, the sand shifts underneath me and I begin to slide backwards. I’ll never make it up this hill. I am going to die on this hill, sinking in the sand, choking for air as my anxiety and panic eat me alive.
Self-saboteur
I am a self-saboteur. I constantly sabotage myself, that’s what I do. I feel myself becoming happy about something or someone and it is such an uncomfortable, foreign feeling to me, that my first instinct is to fuck it up and put a stop to this undeserved happiness. My self-talk is so negative and mean, it is like I can’t handle anything that contradicts what the dark part of my brain is telling me and it really fucking sucks.
I was born with faulty wiring in my brain. Basically, without getting too medical, my brain doesn’t know how to properly regulate the amount of serotonin it produces. Serotonin is a neurotransmitter that controls several things, but specially, mood and anxiety. My body has a tendency to over produce serotonin at times, causing me to have manic episodes, which are rare for me these days. More often for me though, my brain under produce serotonin, which causes me to feel depressed and anxious. I’ve been this way all my life, with certain life events compounding my situation, but wasn’t properly diagnosed until a full-on suicidal break down at age 19. Since then I have been on medication, done lots of therapy, read books, changed lifestyle habits, and closely monitored my emotions. Of course, none of this gets rid of the depression completely, it only helps me manage it day to day. Which brings me back to my self-sabotaging behavior and incredibly negative self-talk.
Having lived with depression for so long, I have become an expert in masking my feelings. I am well aware that no one wants to be around the “sad girl.” No one wants to hang out with “Debbie downer,” or deal with someone else’s shit. I mean we all have our own shit going on, right? So, often times I am really good about putting on a smile, pushing through, and focusing on other people’s problems to distract myself from what I’m feeling. Most of the times I have everyone fooled, even myself. Sure, sometimes people will note that I am unusually quiet, which is a big red flag for me considering I never shut up or slow down. Usually at that point, I quietly withdraw from view and people just assume I’m busy with life. I’m able to hide it well.
As someone who suffers from depression, like most people, I do it in silence and have a terrible time asking for help or finally coming forward to say that I’m struggling. After more than 20 years of knowing what I’m dealing with and working tirelessly to deal with it, I still just can’t stand up and tell someone who cares about me that I need help. My self-talk tells me that doing this will just drive people away. No one wants to hear about my problems. I have good reason for feeling this way too. On multiple occasions, I’ve had people in my life, who I thought I could trust and confide it, tell me that I am just too much and walk away from me. That hurts worse than anything. That rejection of the darkest part of me. That feeling of never being able to truly be seen. It causes me to double down of the idea of never really showing people who I am, which is incredibly difficult because I believe in living a genuine and honest life. I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. I want to be seen for who I am, but know I am not accepted for that person. Then that one piece of who I am, that dark part of my brain, is able to take over and cancel out all the good qualities I know I have. It is like a little devil sitting on my shoulder, whispering evil thoughts into my ear. These evil thoughts aren’t about others, they are all about me, and how unworthy I am of love, acceptance, and happiness.
As much as I fight the devil on my shoulder, I often give into her. I feel happiness coming into my life, things are going well, and that maybe I’m okay, but then the devil speaks, and it all falls apart. I hear all the awful things that she tells me, and I begin to doubt everything. My insecurities creep up on me like a thick fog in the night. Suddenly, I can’t see anything clearly. She tells me “Don’t be stupid! You don’t deserve to feel this way. You are being lulled into a false sense of security so that you let down your guard. As soon as you let that guard down, everything is going to turn to shit, and you are going to be hurt. Don’t fall for this trap! Run away, don’t let anyone in! You don’t deserve to be happy; you aren’t supposed to feel good. Stick with feeling shitty and you will never be too disappointed.” Then I do something to sabotage whatever is going right in my life. I strike out into that dark fog, hoping to hit anything I can. Usually that anything is a person. I say harsh things to push people away. I feel shitty, so I make others feel shitty. Then I feel more shitty for being such awful person. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I feel vindicated when the person I hurt retreats from me like a wounded animal. See, my devil was right. I am a horrible, terrible, unworthy person, who doesn’t know how to be a normal human being, and I don’t deserve to have people in my life because I treat them like shit. I am meant to be alone. Then the cycle continues. The depression pushes in from all sides until I feel I can no longer breath.
I can’t even identify how I am able to break that cycle and briefly get back to my life. Every time I fall into the cycle I ask myself, how did I get out of this last time? How did I beat my devil and quiet my negative self-talk long enough to pull myself out of the hole I constantly dig for myself? In all honestly, I don’t know. It is just another mystery of how my brain works. My brain, which is so messed up with faulty wiring and horrible messages about myself, that keeps me from feeling capable of being normal or happy. My brain that causes me to push everyone and everything good in my life away. My brain that feels like it is so rotted by this one, small, but pervasive dark aspect of me, that all that is good about me can never overcompensate for the darkness in me. My brain that is full of negative self-talk and constantly causes me to self-sabotage. My brain that I fight everyday just to survive.
Rediscovering Me
At the beginning of the year, I declared this year to be the year of me and I began making changes to take back my life. After 17 years in a relationship with one person, four kids, living in 2 different states, multiple jobs, all of which I eventually gave up, and devoting my life to my family, I was overdo for a year to focus on myself. The problem is, it had been so long since I’d focused on myself that I had a lot of rediscovering to do.
I am now six months in and making progress, but still have a ways to go. I lost over 20 pounds in the first 3 months, took control of my diet and began exercising again, something I’ve always enjoyed, but had to give up when my son got kicked out of school a few years ago and my life continued to spiral out of control with one issue after another. I made the decision to move my kids and myself back to the southwest after the divorce is over in order to be closer to family and have support. I even reconnected with old friends back there and am a little excited to move despite loving living in the pacific northwest. I explored several dating apps and began dating again for the first time in 17 years, which is weird, but knowing that I’ll be moving in a matter of months and that everything is temporary, has made it easier and fun. I’ve gotten back to doing art, something that has always been an important part of my life, but I hadn’t made time for in a long time. I even broke out my painting easel for the first time since moving here almost 7 years ago. I’ve been making more time for writing and am working on several things separate from my blog. Last week, I finally pulled the trigger and began applying for grad school, another thing that I’ve wanted to do forever and have always put on the back burner to care for my family.
Despite doing all these things for myself, I still often find myself sad and lonely. I couldn’t figure out why. My life was starting to go in the direction I wanted, and things were getting better day by day, so why did I still feel this way? I was finally getting some time to myself with my kids spending a full 24 hours at their dad’s each weekend and then a few hours for dinner during the week. So why was I struggling with this sudden alone time and needing to fill this time instead of enjoying the time alone? Then it hit me. I’ve spent the last almost 12 years devoting my life to other people. As time went on and my family expanded, I spent more and more time devoted to my love ones, putting them first, and I lost more and more of who I was and what made me happy. My happiness began to be dependent on the happiness of my family and not on things that actually made me happy. The last few years of my marriage were so bad; I’d become a shell of my former self. No wonder I was sad and lonely. I no longer knew who I was, and it had been so long since my happiness was important or put at the forefront, I had no idea what made me happy.
So now I’ve embarked on the big task of rediscovering who I am and what brings me joy. Clearly, I am not the same person that I was 17 years ago, when I was single, but there are still certain aspects of that person that exists inside of me. Over time and with life experience though, I have changed and gained new interests, perspective, and strength. I am finding that I am a better, more grounded, and confident version of the person I used to be in my 20s. 
Sometimes I just need to remind myself of the bad ass that I am and how much I am capable of. I’ve started going through pictures, old and more recent, finding ones that remind me of who I am and my personality when I am not being “mom” or “wife” because I am not limited to those labels, in fact, I no longer carry the label of wife. This rediscovery of me is important and freeing. As much as I love caring for my family and taking care of others, I lost myself in one aspect of my life. Now I am learning how to be happy without my happiness being dependent on other people. Yes, connecting with others is important and my boys will always be my highest priority, but now I am adding myself to that priority list, something I’ve never been good at. I think it is important for my boys as well, to see their mother as a whole, happy, independent person, who is not just there to care for them, but can care for herself and set boundaries too. I can connect with people, care for people, and still enjoy time to myself.
It isn’t an easy process, rediscovering who I am after all this time. Sometimes it can be scary and uncomfortable, but I am learning to sit in that uncomfortableness and see where it takes me. I am learning to be more patient and accepting of myself. Sure, there are parts of me that I still do not like and there are times I don’t want to be trapped inside my own head, but I think it is important that I learn to embrace myself during those times and to know that there is more to me than those faults and flaws. I am learning to love myself and the wonderful person I am. I am worthy of love and connection with others despite the messages I was given the last several years or any events that took place. I will not let a failed marriage or hurtful words and actions define me. Instead, I will redefine myself, rediscovering who I really am when I stand on my own two feet.
A son’s pain
As a parent, it is very hard to watch one of your children struggle. You want to somehow fix whatever they are struggling with. While some struggles are good for children to experience and build character, other struggles can feel unnecessary and pull at your heart strings. It is especially hard to watch your child struggle when that struggle is with the relationship with their own dad.
My oldest had a difficult relationship with his dad long before his father and I separated. In fact, I’d say that their relationship began to strain around the time my oldest turned four. I can remember constantly warning my husband that he was going to ruin his relationship with our oldest from early on. He would expect too much of our oldest at an early age, far more than he was developmentally able to handle. My ex expected our son to somehow, be more mature and take on more responsibility because he was the older brother, even though he was only two when he first became an older brother. He was always harsher with our oldest and it was obvious to many who observed them together. It didn’t help that our oldest had behavioral issues and was a lot like his dad.
As my son got older, the relationship between him and his father became more strained. His dad could be very mean to him, yelled at him a lot, and on occasion, would get physically rough with our oldest. When our oldest was about 8 years old, he asked me to write a note to his dad to tell him that he was scared of him. My then husband had a lot of his own issues that spilled over into his relationship with our oldest, who took the brunt of his father’s anger and frustration.
After his dad left the house, my oldest seemed to be more relaxed at home and happy. One day, as we were cleaning out the car, prompted by something my son’s therapist said, I asked my oldest how he felt about his dad not living with us anymore. What my oldest son told me broke my heart in so many ways. He told me that he liked it better because everyone seemed happier and there was less fighting in general in the house. He said that he didn’t really miss his dad because he never really had a good relationship with him and that he really wanted a new, different dad, one who loved him and accepted him for who he is. I sat there next to him, listening stoically, wanting nothing more than to burst into tears at these words. My eleven-year-old son perceived his dad as someone who didn’t love him or support him. He told me he wanted a dad that would play with him and support him and treat him better. How did I ever let things between them get this bad? Why hadn’t these two managed to bond? Why did my son feel so unloved by his own father? I reassured him that his dad did indeed love him, but that sometimes he had a hard time showing it. That didn’t seem to easy my son’s mind.
Yesterday was Father’s Day, the first Father’s Day since my marriage completely fell apart. My children’s father wasn’t sure that he wanted to see them yesterday. I really wanted to hate him for it, but I knew why. Still, I was heartbroken for my boys and decided to not even tell them it was Father’s Day if they weren’t going to get to celebrate with their dad. After some tearful pleading, I convinced their dad to see them for a brief time, knowing my second and fourth child would really want to be with him on this day. What I hadn’t considered was how my oldest would feel about this day in which he was supposed to celebrate the father, who he had a very difficult relationship with. It wasn’t until we reached the restaurant, which we were meeting his dad at, that I realized just how hard it was on my oldest.
My oldest began acting out immediately. He was bothering his brothers and misbehaving, trying to make everyone miserable. Upon looking closer at his behavior, I realized he was feeling miserable and wanted everyone else to feel the way he did. He was angry and confused about his feelings. I asked him about how he was feeling, but he just didn’t know, nor did he know why he was feeling this way. He was visibly upset by the whole situation. After a bit, I pulled him outside to talk about what he might be feeling and why. I talked to him about how I was feeling and reassured him that, even if his dad didn’t know how to show it, he did really love him. I explained to him that, like him, his dad also struggled sometimes. I told him that it was ok to be mad at his dad, and even at me, because I was the one who asked his dad to leave, but what wasn’t ok was how he was dealing with that anger. I told him some ways that I deal with my anger and talked with him about ways that he might want to try to deal with his. In the end, I held him and told him that no matter what, I loved him and would always be there for him. When we were done, we returned to the rest of the family, my oldest son much calmer, but I felt far from calm. My outward appearance may have seemed fine, but inside I was dying. All I wanted to do was go home, lock myself in my room, and sob.
I had to hold back tears as I drove my boys home. I was so heartbroken by the pain that my oldest son was feeling. I was angry and sad and disappointed and was in mama bear mode. I couldn’t protect my son from these feelings or this struggle. I couldn’t take away his pain or change the circumstances. All I could do was be there for my son in his pain and it filled me with pain and sadness.
I don’t know how this story ends. I don’t know what happens from here. I hope and pray that the relationship between my oldest son and his father will be healed eventually, but I honestly don’t know if it will. The only thing that I do know is how painful it is to watch my son experience and navigate his tenuous relationship with his father. This is one struggle that I wish my son did not have.
Loneliness
It doesn’t matter who is around or how many people are near, loneliness feels lonely, no matter the situation. I am constantly surrounded by four small humans, all clamoring for my attention and yet, I feel so damn lonely inside.
It isn’t a feeling I can shake or ignore. It creeps in despite doing things to try to distract myself. It makes me feel anxious and exhausted. I want to just curl up under the covers and cry. I feel completely disconnected and alone.
I can’t stand to be in my own head. I want a way out. I don’t want to be me or feel this way anymore. I just want a break. There is no relief though. Just one day after another, trudging through despite wanting to give up. Despite constantly finding myself alone in a puddle of my own tears. It hurts so much and feels so awful, but there is no escape.
I am trapped in my loneliness.
I’m sorry I am failing you
Dear sons,
You are the most important people in my life and I love you with all my heart. I would do anything for you. I love being your mom and everyday I try to be the best mom I can be, but right now I am failing you.
Mommy isn’t at her best right now and is struggling. I want to be better and be the mom you deserve, but right now I am failing and it isn’t your fault or mine, it is just this moment in life. This rotten, awful moment that is making everything in life feel so much harder than it should be. I’m tired all the time, physically and emotionally. I cry all the time. I try to hide it from you, but I know you notice and I’m so sorry for failing to be stronger for you. I lose my temper and get upset. I’m not mad at you (usually), I’m mad at our situation and wish things were easier. I can’t concentrate and my headaches all the time. I wanted to finish that book for you tonight, really I did, but I couldn’t make my brain work to do it. I want to be alone more than usual and I’m so sorry, but you hanging on me and being in my face is giving me anxiety. I know you are feeling insecure and confused and so you want to be near me more, to cuddle me more, to get more hugs, and I’m trying, but I’m failing. I am far from my best and am failing you in so many ways.
My sweet babies, please know that I love you so very much, no matter how much I fail you right now. I will keep trying everyday to do better, but it isn’t easy. I hope that one day you are able to look back and know that everything I have done, I have done for you and despite my failures, I’m doing my best in a bad situation. I hope you are one day able to see that I tried. I hope one day soon that I will again find my strength and no longer fail you. Until then, please bare with me and know that I love you, even when I fail you.
Love,
Your failing mom
survivingmyboyz 