I feel like crap.
My birthday is on saturday. I think that may be a big part of it. I used to love birthdays because they were all about me. And being the 4th of six kids, being quiet and shy, being sensitive and afraid of attention–rarely in my life has it been all about me. Except on my birthday.
Then I became a mom. After that it was no longer about me. Ever. Not even on so-called “Mother’s Day.”
Plus, some of you may know this. My big brother, the other “em” in my life, was killed five and a half years ago. We weren’t close-close…but we were? We were the “ems” in the family. Mike & Mary. When our parents had us do the “See no evil; Speak no evil; Hear no evil” family pose, he always put his hands over my eyes. Though he was very active in the Catholic church and was dangerously Republican, he never judged my Punk rock Pagan Socialism. He accepted that that was who I am. At least I felt that way. I may never know for sure how he felt because I never got a chance to ask. I was always too busy. Then I decided I should get to know him better–after talking to him on his birthday. Twenty days later, he was dead.
Anyway. One time I always heard from him was on my birthday.
But he doesn’t call anymore. And I know that now, going into each birthday. So I feel sad.
And I found myself browsing the DAIS webpage wondering if I should talk to someone. Am I really being abused? Are the kids in danger? Am I over-reacting?
The dad has a bunch of stuff coming up about his own so-awful-no-kid-should-ever-ever-ever-have-to-experience-that childhood. And I find myself void of sympathy. Have I always been void of sympathy? Am I terrible and that is why he treats me badly? I wonder these things.
Then I see how people grossly misunderstand my six-year-old, painting him the bad guy. And I think, “He gets that from me.” And I wish it were different for him because it really sucks being misunderstood all your life. My older son gets his father’s ability to charm and woo no matter what behavior he exhibits, but the six-year-old constantly gets judged and labelled for his behavior.
Then I read one of those so-called inspirational I’m-a-Mom-so-I-know-what-you’re-going-through blogs that is addressing the anger a mom feels. And the moms are all like “give your kid a hug & a tickle.” And this just makes me more angry because it is not helpful. Is this helpful to someone else? Are there Hallmark moms out there who respond with, “Oh, of course, put down the cleaver and just give the little beast a tickle.” No, I would never take a cleaver to my kids, but I do have some pretty dark thoughts that don’t just go away with a hug.
No, it’s not these fucking Hallmark moms’ fault that I have a dark voice inside me from growing up abused and having subjected myself to abusive, non-supportive, non-validating relationships all of my life. It is not their fault that I want my roommate/ex-husband/co-parent to just move the fuck out, and he won’t. It’s not their fault that I am seemingly unable to give myself enough self-care to keep myself out of these horrible dips of depression.
I should say something whimsical and quippy here to lighten the mood, but this is not a true mommy blog, so I’m not gonna.