Huh. I looked at the date of my last post, and little did I know when writing it, but my life was about to completely flip upside down just a handful of hours later.
And what sort of thing could I possibly mean in such a dramatically vague way? Don’t worry, I’ll tell you!
At 4-something on May 2nd, I got a phone call informing me that my mom’s house has been deemed a “health and safety hazard” and I was asked if the (3) kids born my nieces and nephew turned sisters and brother due to an adoption could come stay at my house. I said yes, and mentally started figuring out what exactly I would have to give up to take them in. On the drive home from work, because why wouldn’t I have been given this sort of news while sitting at my desk at work; I was informed that it wasn’t just the kids, but my mom too.
I cried so hard and often for the following (5) days my depression meds were pushed out of my system and I had to essentially start over with building them up in my system. Even sitting here now, after coming to terms with this, just acknowledging that this is a real thing in this way is making me start to tear up again.
Growing up, I existed only for the needs of others, a tool more than a person for the majority of my life and the only emotion I really knew how to express was my anger. I theatrically sword fight nowadays, but when I was younger, I was really good at physically hurting people. Constantly in little scraps or big fights, I can’t think of one fight I’ve been in where I lost. I had absolutely no control of my temper and my rage took me to some really dark places.
It took the majority of my late teens and twenties to win the fight that actually matters, the one against my temper and chill the eff out. Heck, I’ve chilled out so much that now, months away from 40, people assume I’m soft AF. Well, maybe not /soft/ since my mouth is as foul as ever, but they def don’t worry about pissing me off since it’s such a rare sight to see.
The first apartment lease I signed was illegal bc I wasn’t 18 yet. My roommate was 19 or 20, but I was still 17. I was sent off to little BFE towns and camps whenever my mom got sick of me as a teen. I legit was tortured as a child. When I moved out of her house, I promised myself I would never live there again. Before we gave up on it (because divorce was 100% the right call for a million reasons), I stopped visiting in attempts to save my marriage since every time we went there we would leave angry - at ourselves, each other, and/or the people living there.
I love my family. If I didn’t love them I wouldn’t have spent my entire life dropping everything at a moment’s notice to take care of whatever messed up situation they got themselves in. I wouldn’t have raised my mom’s other daughters when she gave up when I was in 6th grade, or bought a house with extra bedrooms so the newest batch of kiddos have room with me.
I love my family to the point it hurts me. Constantly and consistently. The only time I’m not being hurt by them is when I’m not around them. After my divorce I actually went no contact for about (4) years, until DCS became involved with the kids my mom ended up adopting. In those years I was able to finally remind myself of who I am as a stand alone person, not the forgotten family member only brought out to be used as a weapon against the “bad guys”, and then used as the villain to bond over the rest of the time.
The handful of people who know about this new living situation keep trying to tell me how great of a person I am bc of this, and their eyes get all big and doe-eyes sad for me, which I hate more than words can describe. Doing right by your family isn’t done for kudos, it’s done because it’s the right thing to do.
There’s absolutely no part of this that is easy, for me or for them. My son moved into the detached room in the backyard, the girls moved into his old room, the boy into what used to be my guest room, and my mom is on a mattress in the living room between a couch and my piano. My mom is having to confront her hoarding and slowly tear apart and then rebuild her house while I instill rules and structure into her and the kids lives. They’re doing good. And all working towards improving themselves, and I hope once they can move back into their house the lessons being taught will stay with them.
This is the absolute best possible outcome for them. It is also the absolute worst possible situation for me.
Once again, my wants and needs are having to be completely back-burnered for the foreseeable future. No traveling outside of con-work this summer while my son goes on a bunch of amazing vacations with his dad, no quiet moments alone in my house before 10p. And my friends, as amazing as they all have been in helping me setup my house in one day, and sending me groceries to help with the extra mouthes. They’re all giving me space right now.
And I know it’s bc what I’m going through is A LOT, and either they can’t deal with it in addition to their own lives or they’re trying not to add to my burden, I get that. But I am living my worst nightmare come to life, and so many times I just want to bury my head into a chest or lap and just have someone tell me I’ll get through this with my sanity and calmness intact. It’s selfish, I know. My friends provided me furniture, food, clothes and physical assistance for housing my family. I shouldn’t be asking for more than what they’ve already done for me.
I’m just so exhausted having to be The Adult for so many people all on my own, and I really wish I had someone who had time to BE with me in all of this. You know, someone to lock eyes with across the room and make big eyes at something ridiculous that’s happened. Or to drag me out of my house before I lose my cool and have to run away into the desert without cell service for 4+ hours just to calm down. (Yup. I ran away from home last weekend. It was a thing)
I know I’ll make it to the end of this, I always do, and funnily enough this isn’t even the hardest thing I’ve had to face. I just feel like the stakes this time around are higher for me individually, and I’m afraid of what unknowns I’ll be losing because of this time in my life. And I’m worried about how bruised and broken what’s left of my heart is going to be after once again sharing a roof with the person who raised me in a way where my worth has always been determined by my usefulness. Sharing a roof with the person who has forgotten more of my birthdays in my life than she’s remembered, who has excuses and reasons why anyone else can fail, but then holds me to impossible standards.
There is no leeway for me, I can never show my weaknesses around them. I can only be the strong, stiff spined version of myself that is fearless and friendly and kind no matter the situation. Charming and witty, with just a splash of self deprecation so everyone is comfortable around me.
I will cry alone, I will tell myself it will all be ok, and hopefully I have built up enough self confidence to not hate myself when they leave.
Cross your fingers for me? And maybe your eyes and toes as well? I’m gonna need all the luck available this time around.
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