More time alone. Sadie and Jonah are both in the woods of NH for most of the month of August hopefully having a great adventure. I am secretly envious and forlorn at their absence. When I am in Gloucester I am left with 12 year old Nora, who is a sweet child, but much more quiet than the other two, very similar to Gary. Long stretches of time go by where we don't say much. This is probably very good for me. This feels very uncomfortable for me. Yesterday I came home from work ready to spend time with Nora. Excited to see her as I had been away from her all weekend, looking to make up for lost time. This is what divorcing parents do (at least I think it is, I'm still a novice). They make up for lost time, they buy things to win people over, they say " I love you" way more than they used to in an effort to convince the unconvinced. They check in, and then recheck in to the angsty tween's dismay. Yesterday we went down to the dock. It is hot here this week, humid, we are finally getting a summer week at the end of summer. Nora found some kids her age and as should be expected, abandoned me on the dock, for joy, for fun. I jumped in with my new athleticism, wondering how far I could swim and still be considered a good parent. I had already swam a mile and a half earlier in the day, in the pool, but I could have swam an ocean to get away from these feelings, the tape playing in my head, "you are a bad person, you are stupid, you are selfish, you are alone, everybody hates you, you can't swim....."
I actually can swim pretty well. I learned that this year. It's been nice to build my body into something very efficient and strong but as the summer comes to a close I recognize, my mind remains the same.
Jeremiah tells me I have a case of alcoholism and he's right.
He says its the serial killer in my brain that wants me dead and he's right.
So Nora wanted to come back up here right after the kids left and so we did, me dragging behind, not feeling that super " I can conquer anything" feeling that I have held on to for about 4 months now. Feeling totally alone, to be honest.
I gave Nora lots of space and cooked a pretty good meal. I called Ashley and of course felt better. It always is a good idea to call Ashley. Some day I'll write a whole entry about Ashley but for now, it is safe to say, she's the best thing in my life as only a best girl friend can be.
We ate and chatted a little. Me trying to be upbeat and perky and then checking in, and rechecking in, as only a guilt ridden newly single parent can. She says she's fine, tired (she is always tired these days ) and agreed to play a card game with me. She asked me to start her gimp bracelet and I got a flash of panic, remembering what a terrible art and craft mom I am, really bad. I get an F everytime but in light of trying new things I was going to conquer that thing so I watched youtube videos where little children whipped together the basic beginner version of gimp and I cursed and bit my lip and all the while Nora stared at me probably enjoying this moment of my complete ineptitude. Finally we both decided that for the sake of our sanity I should put the gimp down and we resumed cards.
I went to a yoga class and gave her more space and came back to her bracelet half done, gimp puzzle solved. She didn't need me after all.
This is the thing about my children right now and it really has little to do with divorce or parenting or anything other than their age. 15, 12 and 10 year olds need their mommy less and less for the day to day and actually probably do better without my intrusive overbearing watchful eye 24/7. This kind of makes me feel elated and despairing at the same time. It's confusing. What is motherhood anyways and why can't I be like those pleasantly plump soccer moms who always remember the right snacks, spend countless hours cleaning the house and waiting for their children and husbands to come home so their purpose in life can continue and they can feel complete.
I've never been that mother.
Even when I was homeschooling and trying to push my square body in to a circle mold and make myself have feelings I just didn't have, I was not that mother.
I am the mother that gives great advise. At any hour of the day if Sadie or Molly calls me I can guarantee that I will have good solid advise and something that resembles the old Saturday night live Chris Farley "Down by the River" motivational speeches. I will drive you pretty much anywhere. I will. I love to know that my children are happily doing something they love and so I will get in the car several times in the day to take them there and then I will usually stay to watch. I am the working mother and I really love to work. I love to get up early, dress up in pretty clothes and talk to adults all day. I love to financially support my family. I really do.
But, I am busy. I am restless. I like to move and change things around and I'm quick to anger and frustrate easily. I have "low frustration tolerance" as we say in therapist world. I am also the only morning person in the house and by 8 pm am completely useless. I am annoyingly happy in the morning, much to all of my children's dismay.
I am a faithful mother. I have my children's backs no matter what. They can guarantee that whatever decisions they make, I think they are right and I love them. That is just sewn in to me. I am not sure where I got that but it is part of the fabric of who I am. It makes me completely unable to be objective and I don't care because if you can't have one person in the world who totally and unconditionally believes in you that is going to be a scary ride.
It was for me.
And still continues to be.
The hardest part about divorce is the voices inside my head.
And then when those voices are validated in any way by anyone out there, they set up shop, pull up the sturdier camping gear and get a fire going, this is going to be a long visit this time.
And so the only person I can convince is this one here at the screen. You are a good person. You try your best. You are having a tough day and this too shall pass.
Monday Molly will give me my 6 year medallion. I'm also a miracle.
And so are you.
