Twisting and turning along the path

As I sit here, watching Scout smirk in her sleep, and slowly open her eyes, I wonder about the choices I've made. I wonder if Sev, her father, understands that just because I feel suffocated, because I need space, does not mean that she does. I encourage his relationship with her. I think it's important that they have a relationship with each other, separate from me.

Sadly, I fear that his priorities are skewed. I am afraid that, with his current insistence that we, collectively, need to spend time together, that Scout is slowly losing the opportunity to get to know her father before stranger anxiety and "I need mama" sets in.

I don't have time. I need time. I need to breathe. I cannot do that when I have to, several times a day, decline invitations to hang out. I cannot do that when he insists that my only option to become less angry is to "get over it."

Here is what I need to say, and I hope I'm able to do this someday soon:

I haven't been able to breathe for so long. I can't be somebody's something every second of every day. There are moments that I need to just be me. I need to stand alone. So do you. I can't be needed by an adult, when I have three children.

I need to know that you are not only able to take the baby one your own, but willing to. I feel like asking to see her, and hang out with me at the same time, is just your single vision way of getting me to go with you. She needs to be enough alone. I need you to put her before me. That is the first step.

Finding the way.

I'm not sure how to say what I need to say right now.

I'm not sure how to explain to my family, to my children, that my relationship with Sev is not necessarily over. We certainly can't live together - not today. Maybe not ever. But I'm not sure that we need to abandon all hope.

Time will tell, I suppose.

I've dated men. I've married. I've left men.

Never have I felt so terribly bad about a choice. Right now, I don't know how to tell people that it may not be over. That some day, maybe, hopefully, it will work.

I'm still very hurt. And especially nervous for my kids. They will always come first, and I would hate to go through all of this pain, effort, and heartache to disappoint them again.

I am so scared.

Turning the corner?

I didn't realize that I was sad. I knew I was hurt. I knew I was angry. I was definitely relieved. I didn't know I was sad.

I took Scout to visit her dad yesterday. We hadn't seen him since we spoke Monday morning about all of our issues, and the implications of those.

He is still so very sad. And I thought that my sadness was guilt. I felt so guilty for so long about the situation that was forced upon him. I felt like the pregnanxy, and his forced commitment to me, was my fault. I felt like he lost his son (part time, anyways) because of me. And most of all, I felt like he lost his marriage, any hope of regaining what he once had, because of me.

I thought, and sometimes I still do, that I stayed because of this guilt. This overwhelming, all encompassing guilt that I felt. I probably did. I know I did. It turns out, though, that I do have true feelings for him. At least, I think that's what I'm finally feeling, after I feel all the hurt, anger, guilt, and sadness. It sure is something.

We talked the other day, when Scout was napping. And I collapsed into a pile of sobbing, weeping, hysterical, ugly-crying mush. I'm sad, not just because he's in pain. I'm sad, not just because I've lost possibility. I'm sad, not just because Scout loses her dad.

I'm sad because I loved, and I didn't know it. I'm sad because we were too stupid to step back, and see that we were going too fast. I'm sad because I'm afraid that we can't get it back.

Hopefully, maybe, some day, when we're all not so angry, and we can see the world a little more clearly, ee can join back up on the same path.

It's a strange feeling, to realize that you've squandered something as precious as that. Even if the situation was as volatile as ours.

For now, Sev is trying to find the man that he lost, even before we met. The man that he thought he was. I'm trying to be the mother that my children deserve.

Wish me luck. I'll take advice, if you've got some.

The road home

The way out of a place is sometimes easy, and sometimes fraught with peril. Your journey to the end can find itself taking many twists and turns. I've found that, often, I'm not sure I've reached the end of a path until I've stumbled upon it.

I've taken Scout out of the home we lived in with Sev. Scout, Pippi, Huck, and I are now staying with my parents.

Sev took the news better than I expected he would. He was angry, for a minute, but mostly, he was sad. He was so very sad. I wanted to make it not hurt him so much, but I knew, and I know, that this is the right thing for all of us. We cannot continue down that same dangerous path. With every argument, we creeped closer and closer to the edge. To the line where things are said and done that can't be apologized for. Things that cannot be forgiven.

I told him, on Sunday, that I was going for the night, and that we could talk the next day. He knew then. He knew. He also knew that i was trying to be kind. To let him down gently. To make it easier.

I don't want him to lose his daughter, and I hope that I've made that clear. I didn't want to hurt him so badly, and it kills me to have done so.

When we spoke tonight (a couple of days later), he said, "I think you're right. This probably is best for both of us. I was never going to stop yelling. I probably need a break, too. I need to figure myself out."

I hope he means it. I hope he means it for himself. For the kids. I hope it's not for me.

Me? I'm sad. But I'm sad for other reasons. I'm sad at the loss of possibility. I'm sad that I've hurt another person. That makes me feel selfish. Selfish. I don't know how to feel about that. It's got such a terribly negative connotation, but is it really that bad to be selfish? Just sometimes?

I'm fairly certain that I've rambled.on. Excuse any current errors - I'm on my phone right now. I'll edit if necessary as soon as I can.

The one where Mom is the good guy

I know that this whole thing is new, and, at this point, because I'm kind of a chicken, I'm just using it as a way to think out loud.  I'll tell my story to myself, so that, hopefully, like watching a movie, I'll say, "that's enough! Get off your ass and change it!" 

Hopefully.  This is the story where Mom is the good guy.  Three children depend on me.  Three.  And two of them already know that the life that I'm living is unacceptable.  Huck (10) and Pippi (8) would rather sleep at my parents' house than to be subjected to the occasional fits of anger that Sev would bring to the table.  Scout, the baby, is still too little to know better.  But she won't be for long.  That's why I need ambition.  That's why I need to remember. 

It was all such a whirlwind at first.  I got divorced, Sev left his wife.  We figured, "what the hell?" It was fun, and carefree.  Harmless, I thought.  He was getting a bit attached, but that was okay.  It was a slow-moving train, and I figured I could jump if I had to. 

Well, turns out, there wouldn't be any jumping.  I ended up pregnant very quickly, and I didn't really know what to do.  I offered him the opportunity to leave.  No questions asked.  I had two children, and I had my family.  I could do it on my own.  I knew I could. 

He didn't want it.  He wanted in.  Okay.  We were doing it.  We had prenatal visits, morning sickness, children, and a new relationship.  It was a lot of life to try to meld while my body was on a roller-coaster ride of epic hormonal waves.  I thought, hoped, that some of the red flags that I saw were just over-reactions because of my past, because I was touchy, hormonal, scared, and hurt. 

I never expected to be let down so terribly though. 

We have argued, and I accept my share of blame for that.  I'm no angel.  I'm assertive, controlling, and over-protective. 

Huck and Pippi have been hurt by their own father.  He's come around, but they know what it is to be hurt and disappointed by a man that they love. I swore that they would never feel that again.  This is worse.  Now, they fear a man.  They fear a man that I chose to allow into our homes, into our lives. 

Huck will now only spend the night with us if he knows Sev is at work.  Pippi asked my sister for an emergency cell phone the other day. 

I fell asleep on the couch with Scout, and never went up to bed.  When Sev got up in the morning, he had a fit.  He threatened to throw the couch out the window, drag it behind the car, set it on fire.  He said those things in front of the baby, and Pippi.  Of course she's scared. 

Sev thinks that Huck is a spoiled brat.  He thinks that Huck disrespects me.  Given this most recent turn of events, I have to say that nothing could be further from the truth.  Huck is the man in my life.  Any other man will have to accept second.  Or fourth, on the list of my people.  I have my ladies, too.  I guess Sev missed that memo. 

We aren't going to live a life of disrespect any more.  We aren't going to just get by.  I'm not just surviving.  That isn't a life.  It certainly isn't a life that I want for my kids.  If I've raised them well enough that they understand that the dynamics of this relationship are inappropriate, then I want them to know that I understand that I deserve more. 

We learn together.  All four of us.  And we're going to figure this out. 

We have love.  We have each other.  Now, we're moving forward.  With a good guy. 

I hope I can do it. 

Where's our story?

Have you ever noticed that, in the fairy tale world, mothers are non-existent?  They're dead,and step-mothers are assholes.  I was looking for some strength in the land of make-believe, and I was looking for something to read to my 6 month old daughter.  Something that would soothe her, and comfort me. 

Sounds like we need the same thing - maybe we should just go back to bed. 

No.  Today is a day for progress.  Today is a day that I grow some balls (figuratively speaking), and make changes. 

I don't like it.  I'm unhappy.  I know it.  Life feels like it's hard, but I know that it's not that bad.  I know that there are people who would be grateful for what I have. 

This sucks. 

My boyfriend told me the other day that he's pretty certain that I have post-partum depression.  How do you respond to that when the only answer is, "it's not hormones.  It's you.  You make me unhappy."  I can't stay.  I can't. 

And I can go.  I have places to go.  I don't think he'd try to stop me at all.  I just feel guilty.  Somehow, I think I should come last.  I can't.  I can't come last.

I went looking for fairy tales, or folk tales about the strength that mothers have because I needed a push.  Finding a void there was that push.  There may be children throughout history who have heard tales of missing mothers and asshole step-parents.  My children will live a different life. 

It may not be a fairy tale, but it doesn't seem like those fairy tales are so awesome anyways.