Band-aids on Bullet Holes

Looking for a cheery Christmas post?  Then stop, back away, and check back next month.  Last night I had major meltdown #98.  After weeks of hearing of all the grand plans that the boys have with their dad over Christmas break, I walked in to find one of them playing a video game online with one of other woman’s kids.  It felt like I had been slapped.  I had no idea that for months, my ex had been grooming the relationship with her kids and mine.  Yes, I am sure it is good that they won’t all be total strangers, but it caused everything to come crashing down.  My ex leaves me, in May and since then has bought a house, gotten her pregnant, gotten married, got an IPhoneX, and now he will have my sons for his “perfect family” over the holidays.  I, meanwhile, am going to a friend’s and will try to not make Christmas miserable for her family. It is just so hard to hear about the “perfect” life he is living, all the while I cannot seem to get through the grief.

I told a friend last night that it s like a cavernous bullet wound.  Nine months ago, I got shot and that bullet has never been out, rather just meandering through my body and causing problems when I least expect it.  Yes, some people might say that God “has been faithful” and is providing relief in the form of friends helping fix broken windows or helping with the kids or a sitter that has not quit.  But, honestly, I feel like it is really just band-aids on the bullet wound.  It is like God is tossing me the leftovers just to make me shut up about everything for a few days.

I am tired of this grief just stopping me in my tracks.  I am tired of trying to keep my sh** together and failing.  I am tired of my kids seeing me cry.  And before you all throw out “you need to see a therapist”, I have…two different ones.  One just sat and listened by did nothing to help me grieve and the other one kept having me do tasks and I felt worse and more like a failure every appointment.  The reality is that this whole scenario is just so bizarre, it sounds like something out of a bad book or movie, but it is what I live with every day.  And I have yet to find a therapist that is able to help me work through it without making me feel like every time I lose it, I have failed my sons and am screwing them up.  I am going to try and start Divorce Care in the new year, but I risk going into that with even too messy of a story for a group setting.

So, tomorrow I will place my sons on a plane, ask for a hug, and be denied one, because, yeah, my sons won’t even hug me anymore.  I will be lucky to get a mumbled “love you” and then will likely try and call them every day and get a 2-minute conversation, if they answer at all.  I am not being a pessimist, but I do know my sons.  Then, while everyone is celebrating Christmas with family and the birth of the savior, I will be struggling to hold it all together all the while feeling like there is something very wrong with me that has lead up to the events of the last year.  So, whatever, bring on another band-aid, when I need a lot more than that.

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When Thankfulness is Hard

It is the first major holiday as a family of three.  The winter holidays, particularly Thanksgiving and New Christmas occupy a special place in my heart.  I love cooking and gifts and Christmas music and curling up under a blanket. I have approached this season with a heavy heart.  Knowing that it was this time last year that my my ex began a journey that would lead to him walking out of our lives, has made me rethink every moment of last year’s holiday season.  So, as today is the day we pause and reflect on what we are Thankful for, my thankfulness is often through the fog of tears.

Oddly, I am thankful that the decision to divorce was not left up to me.  I am now able to see with clarity that I probably would have never left my marriage, no matter how insignificant I became.  And due to the circumstance of how it all went down, the custody battle was non-existent, for which I am grateful.

I am thankful that despite everything, the boys and I were able to keep things somewhat normal.  We stayed in our home and they have the same schools and sports teams.  We kept our dogs, and even one of the cats made a strange journey back to us.

I am so very blessed that God knew what my heart needed and basically dropped a group of friends and an amazing church community into my lap when I needed it the most.  I remember crying out in prayer that there was no way I could stay here because I felt so alone and disconnected from my community.  It was like God stepped in and met one of my greatest needs

Lastly, I am thankful for the gift of my sons.  The journey to learn how to parent them alone has been hard.  We are in the middle of a challenging season with the combination of teen boy hormones, grief, and trauma.  There are days I don’t think I can or want to parent them.  But, guess what, at the end of the day, we are still a family and as hard as it is, they are everything to me and I am grateful for the gift of being their mom.

So, yes, being thankful is hard this  year.  My grief and joy are strange bedfellows.  I am trying to keep my expectations low knowing that we are all very raw this year.  But, Bolt, Messi, and I are showing up every day to live, to laugh, to fight, and to love.

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Juggling Hats

As the dust has settled over the latest news to rattle my world, I have settled into a deep fatigue.  I have been struggling to find enough hours in the day to do all that needs to be done from exercise, walking the pups, keeping house, working, cleaning, and mom-ing.  On top of that, I still need to work on the process of grieving and healing, because I know if I don’t do that work, then everything else will suffer.  The boys have returned from 10 days with the grandparents and we are getting ready for the upcoming school year.  I started up grad school again this week and my job is beginning to feel like less of a mystery.  It is hard to prioritize both what needs to be done on the practical level, while also prioritizing what my heart and soul need.  The past few days, I have actually done a lot for the latter…Saturday I spent the day in fellowship with an amazing group of women, all adoptive moms, as we talked and ate and laughed and got our first tattoos.  I remember sitting around the table that evening and feel some of my burden be lifted as I found a community willing to walk alongside me in my season of loss and grief.  Sunday, I braved meeting a woman I had never met from church, as we went to see Wicked in Philly.  It is not something I would have been comfortable doing a year ago, but now is the time for stepping out of my bubble.  Tonight, I did a much harder thing and went to see a therapist.  I saw one a few months ago, but didn’t feel like it helped much, but after last week, I knew I needed to find someone, and hopefully someone more skilled at the circumstances I am facing.  It was good and she already gave me some tools to help work through some of what I am experiencing.  Here is to hope that I can find a balance between all the hats I am juggling and am still able to find rest for both my body and soul.

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