addiction

Dear Diary: I’m back (Part 2) Final updates

In my first blog posts, all those months ago, I wrote about being a stay-at-home parent and how I was feeling about it. I also wrote in detail and at length about my dad and brother, Daniel, and I’d like to briefly address those topics.

Last August I was dreading the kids going back to school. It seemed as if I had nothing but emptiness and loneliness to look forward to… Turns out I was needlessly worried because I have been absolutely fine! More than fine- I’ve been loving it, I’m happier than I’ve ever been!
I didn’t even have to find ways of occupying my time. I had been brainstorming about part-time jobs or volunteer opportunities, but I haven’t once felt the need to find something to do. I spent a little time in my daughter’s class, but that isn’t really my thing… All those kids and all that chaos- I don’t tolerate it very well. I have been busy enough with regular daily life things- laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, doctor’s appointments, emailing teachers, doing homework, etc.
And I love all of the quiet alone time I have during the day! Lots of alone time is a necessity for my well being, and I am getting plenty of it. I’ve also been feeling like I have purpose. I’m available to do things that my husband, son, and daughter need- often even at a moments notice, and I really like that. I know they do too.
Another key to the success of my stay-at-home-parent-experience is the time that my husband and I get to spend together when he gets home from work. Last school year, and for five years before that, once he got home from work I left for work. We get to see a lot more of each other now that I don’t have the part-time job at night, and because I have all day to myself to get things done at my own pace I’m refreshed and happy when he gets home. We are so fortunate to have a set up like this and it is working very well for us.
So that’s where I’m at regarding the whole full-time-stay-at-home parent thing.

As for my dad and my brother….

Back last summer, at the end of July or beginning of August, I had my dad over at my house  for the first time in years. As I mentioned before, I don’t see much of him. I can’t spend time in his apartment (unhealthy) and because of his drinking I don’t usually have him over to my house. Well, last summer I had my youngest brother bring him over. The visit wasn’t very good and thankfully lasted only an hour, but despite how uncomfortable it was I had resolved to do it again. My goal was to have him over maybe once a month, but I didn’t follow through on that. I have seen him, but not at my house. I’ve given him a ride a few times so that he can pick up his work equipment, but that’s it. However, I have started answering his calls a little more often.
As for my brother, Daniel- the one who’s an addict, in and out of jail and rehab….
I haven’t heard much about him in several months. The only reason I ever knew anything before was because my mom would tell me. Well, I obviously haven’t had any contact with her since February, but even before that, back in January and December, I was keeping more distance between us than usual because I was avoiding having that uncomfortable conversation with her. (See previous post- I’m back, Part 1)
Occasionally my brother Nick will give me an update, but he hasn’t mentioned Daniel for over six months. So the last I knew (from my mom) was that he was in yet another jail/rehab program. However, my dad called this past Monday to wish me a happy belated Mother’s Day, so while I had him on the phone I asked him if he knew anything about Daniel. He didn’t know much, but he knew enough. He was able to tell me that just a few weeks ago Daniel had asked our grandmother (my dad’s mother) for money. Well, we all know what that means.

Honestly, I don’t think he will ever be sober. He will never stop. It is going to kill him. I gave up hope years ago that he will ever stop doing drugs and live a normal life. It’s sad… It’s very sad, because I don’t think he’s ever known a day of peace or happiness in his entire life.
And sometimes, some days, I’m hit with a sort of “survivor’s guilt” because my life is so very different from his. I know peace and happiness everyday. I have my kids, my husband, my husband’s family, friends, a nice house in a nice neighborhood. Our kids go to good schools, we drive nice cars, travel, eat good food, go to nice restaurants…
And on top of all that I have Netflix and books! Ha!
I have Lorelai and Rory Gilmore, and Dr. Frasier Crane.
I have Jane Austen, Harry Potter, The Hobbit, and Ripple, The Water Spirit...

Monday Moon Post: Jane Eyre

If you’d rather get right to the moon quotes you can scroll down to the bottom of this post until you see the moon pictures. I’ll get to Jane Eyre and the moon quotes momentarily, but first…

I am so tired. Yes, I know I sound like a broken record, but really, I am tired. There’s been a lot going on- school shopping, grocery shopping, a very long day at the zoo, 90 minutes spent at my son’s new high school just to get his schedule and locate only half of his classes, a very unexpected bachelorette party on Saturday night, a baby’s 1st birthday party yesterday afternoon, and then last night we went to the Football Hall of Fame game in Canton, Ohio. We had a 2 hour drive there and back and we didn’t get home until just after midnight. This morning I had to get up at 7 to take my 14-year-old son to a friend’s house for a day trip to an amusement park. Well, first I was woken up around 5 by some very strange dreams, but there was still time for me to go back to sleep before my alarm went off. However, I wasn’t able to that because my son was already up and already in trouble. He had been up since about 5- watching YouTube and playing games on his tablet, and he knows he isn’t supposed to do that! So my husband took the tablet from him and put it in our room. And what does my son do? He gets on his laptop!

I know what you’re thinking, Why does he have a tablet AND a laptop?
answer: GRANDPARENTS!
That’s why!
Grrrrrrr! Curse them and their desire to bestow expensive gifts on my children!

So I went in his room and demanded he get off and then of course lectured him about this and that and everything else, which I know isn’t exactly effective, but damn it I’m tired! He is driving me crazy….

Anyway, where was I? Oh, that’s right- busy. Parties, a football game, family stuff, kid stuff, preparing for a new school year, etc….. Prior to all this, or in the midst of it, my brother Sonn texted me one night:

[Have you heard about Sem?  I just found out tonight.]

Ok, honestly, I thought he was about to tell me that our brother was dead. I’m serious. My brother’s situation is that bad. As I said in my first post he is basically homeless. He tells my mom that he sometimes sleeps in abandoned houses, and, believe me, the part of town he frequents has no shortage of abandoned houses. Sometimes he sleeps on a random home’s porch or in an unused garage. People have called the police to have him removed. He is always asking my mom for money, or demanding it from her. And it’s always denominations of twenty. Years ago it was, “Hey, can I get $20?” He would always have some desperate reason why he needed it- medicine, bus money, he owes someone, etc… But it was all lies. If anyone agreed to give him $20 then it would turn into $40. “Well, actually 40 would be better” he’d say, but he would settle for $20 if you told him it was all you could do. Then it became $40 or $60, and the story was that he needed it to pay for Suboxone or a hotel room.
No one will let him live with them because he steals. He’s stolen from my mom’s house I can’t tell you how many times. She finally stopped letting him come back. She did, however, very recently get him a pre-paid cell phone so he would have a better chance at complying with his probation. (More on that later.) And what did he do with it? He sold it. He claimed it was stolen but he always says that. We know he sold it. Almost anything my mom has given him since he was 18 he has sold. Maybe some of the stuff was lost or stolen, but we think a lot of it was pawned, sold on the street, or traded in exchange for drugs. You can’t give him anything- he will turn into drugs.
He’s on probation because he broke into Sonn’s apartment- for the 2nd time. That’s right, he robbed his own brother. Twice. The first time he got in by smashing the siding glass door. He stole the flat screen TV, Xbox and games, and some cash. The 2nd time he broke in he did it through an upstairs window. He stole a brand new Xbox One, the few games Sonn had for it- oh, and his car. A few days later Sem was caught by the police in that stolen car and was arrested. (Stolen copper pipes were also found in the backseat). The Xbox was already pawned of course. Finger prints- actually an entire hand print- confirmed it was Sem who broke into the upstairs window.
These are felonies, Buddy. You’re going down.
He spent some time in jail, had to detox alone in a cell with nothing more than pain reliever to “help” him through it. Believe me, it was very difficult thinking of him going through that alone…  He would be in prison right now but, because these were non-violent crimes committed by a person who is clearly an addict, he was released under certain conditions. He was given a place at a homeless shelter and was supposed to report to a probation officer for daily drug testing. The program would also help get him a job and into an out-patient rehab program.
I would say, “Well, that didn’t last long,” but it never even began. As soon as he was out he was right back to it- lying, asking for money (40, 60, 80), crying about not having anywhere to live and claiming he had to leave the homeless shelter because it was infested with bed bugs. It probably is, but so is any other place he can find to crash. He has the nerve to claim he’s not on drugs, that he needs money for a place to stay the night, but we know it’s not true. My mom doesn’t give him money anymore, no one does. So I find myself wondering at times, What does he do to get the drugs he wants/needs?
I’m sure I don’t want to know…

People just like him- addicts- are found dead everyday in the neighborhoods where he drifts and wanders. Bodies are found in empty condemned houses and apartments, in dumpsters…. Some have OD’d, some have been murdered.
So you can see how I thought Oh god, he’s dead when Sonn texted me.

[Have you heard about Sem?]

However, he was referring to Sem not complying with his probation-which I already knew- and that no one had heard from him in a few weeks- which I did not know.
We have no way of contacting him. None whatsoever. Our only way of knowing he’s alive is that he calls our mom, but he apparently hasn’t done that in several weeks. This has happened before, but you never know. This time could be it….

Sonn also texted to me, “I don’t know how to handle this.”

This is unusually candid for him. He is a man of few words and certainly not prone to confessions of an emotional nature. I was completely caught off guard. I really wanted to help him but I wasn’t sure how. I know how to help myself, I know what I need to do to “handle” (deal with) the chaos and heartache that my family creates, but what works for me won’t necessarily work for Sonn. I’m the only one in my family who has been open to therapy/counseling. I’ve suggested this to him several times before, but he was always pretty clear about not wanting to go that route. I think for him therapy has always been a last resort. However, I know that Sem’s sad life and addiction hurts (and angers) Sonn more than it does me. When it comes to Sem I have been able to achieve a great deal of detachment- Sonn has not. And finally here he was reaching out for help. I figured there was no point in suggesting therapy again so I suggested Al-Anon, which has also been immensely helpful to me.  I wanted to suggest both Al-Anon and counseling, but I didn’t think he’d go for it. However, to my surprise, when I texted him about Al-Anon he texted back that he was thinking of counseling.
Well, I jumped all over the chance to encourage that! He said he didn’t know where to start so I gave him a few ideas, but I tried to make sure I didn’t overwhelm him.

So with all that’s been going on it’s no surprise that I’ve had a little anxiety. One night recently I was experiencing some chest pains and shortness of breath. Sometimes when I’m anxious, and especially when my mind is racing with absurd chaotic thoughts, I have a little prayer that I slowly repeat to myself. It helps me calm down.

Peace in my mind
Peace in my heart
Faith in the Kingdom
Faith in the Guard

The first two lines are pretty basic- a simple and concise declaration for a peaceful state of mind and body. The second two lines were inspired by one of the most beautiful lines I have ever read:

“…there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits; that world is round us, for it is everywhere; and those spirits watch us, for they are commissioned to guard us”

That is from the novel Jane Eyre (one of my favorites!), which, oddly enough, finally brings me to the quotes for Moon Post Monday. The first time I read Jane Eyre I was very surprised by the number of times the moon was mentioned and it really stuck with me. I made note of the best of them and here they are….

 

“…when the moon, which was full and bright, came in her course to that space in the sky opposite my casement, and looked in at me through the unveiled panes, her glorious gaze roused me. Awaking in the dead of night, I opened my eyes on her disk– silver-white and crystal clear. It was beautiful, but too solemn…”

moon window silver white

“He saw me, for the moon had opened a blue field in the sky, and rode in it watery bright.”

“The east had its own charm of fine deep blue, and its own modest gem, a rising and solitary star; soon it would boast the moon, but she was yet beneath the horizon.”

“On the hill top above me sat the rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but brightening momentarily…”

 

“…for I am to take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there…”

“…the moon appeared momentarily… her disk was blood-red and half overcast. She seemed to throw on me one bewildered, dreary glance, and buried herself again instantly in the deep drift of cloud.”

moon red

“…the sea, which I could hear from thence, rumbled dull like an earthquake- black clouds were casting up over it; the moon was setting in the waves, broad and red, like a hot cannon-ball– she threw her last bloody glance over a world quivering with the ferment of tempest.”

 

 

Dear Diary: Why I’m Jealous of My Husband

It’s weird to be jealous of your own husband, right? That’s not a good sign, is it?

This blog was supposed to be about my passion for words. A well organized, well researched, masterfully articulated blog showcasing masterful articulation. It’s supposed to be about books and quotes and song lyrics; a celebration of creative, intelligent, inspiring language- and lovely shit like that. But sometimes plans change, and this is one of those times, because I’ve got other things I need to say right now. 

You know what? That’s it. That. Is. It!!! I’ve HAD IT!

facepalm

Yeah, well, those are obviously empty threats. So I’ve had it. So I’m fed up. What am I really going to do about it? Apparently I’m going to blog about it, a.k.a. write about it. Because that’s what I do.
I turn to words- listening to them, singing them, reading them, or writing them. I always have. I once wrote an essay about my brother “Sem”. I was nine. I wrote the essay because I loathed him so much I seriously wanted to injure him. He used to make me so mad, and I needed to do something with that anger. Usually I just attacked him, but that day I somehow came up with a better, non-violent option. I had to get that anger out of me and, without questioning it, I went right to pen and paper to deal with those feelings.  That’s right- I wrote an essay when I was nine, not because it was homework, but because I actually wanted to. I needed to. It had an opening statement, an introductory paragraph, at least 2 body paragraphs consisting of 3 to 5 sentences each, and then a conclusion.

My mom found that essay last year, or something like that, and gave it to me. I had forgotten all about it, but as soon as I saw it the memory of writing it came back to me pretty vividly. When she presented it to me she was kind of laughing and smiling at me like, “Remember this? Oh, how cute!” I was embarrassed and pretty uncomfortable. I was hurt and sad, too. I’m not exactly sure why… Maybe because when I wrote that essay I was serious. I wasn’t trying to be cute. Those feelings described in that essay, the anger and frustration, were very real- then and now. That essay was nothing to laugh at. It was, in part, a cry for help. My brother acted the way he did because of how we were being raised. I suspected it even then, and now at the age of 36, I know I was right. There is a certain amount of satisfaction in that, but the memories and ramifications of my childhood are still hard to live with….

Okay, honestly, sometimes there is a lot of satisfaction in knowing that what I thought was fucked up when I was a child really was fucked up. Growing up I could never be sure of my assessment of the situation because my parents denied it. My dad pretty much just didn’t talk about it, or acknowledge it, in any way -unless it was about my mom being crazy. He was always drunk when he talked (ranted) about my mom’s behavior so… that doesn’t exactly count as validation.  My mom just out right denied it. She would verbally acknowledge certain things, but then she would follow that up with either down playing how bad it really was, or blaming her behavior on external factors- including me and my brothers. I don’t think she meant to make us feel blamed. I don’t think she realized what her words were conveying, but… that’s pretty much what she said. There was no other way to take it, especially for a child.

To some readers it might seem like I’m being too hard on my parents or unfair to them. Maybe that’s true. I have a lot of anger towards them and I give in to that anger, but I wasn’t always this way. For years I tried to forgive them. I forced myself to be around them even though they made me uncomfortable. For years I went along with the denial- either not talking about any of it, or telling myself, “It wasn’t that bad.” But several years ago I came across the book Toxic Parents. My parents are in that book. Not by name, of course, but by definition and description. That book did something for me that no other book or therapy had ever done- it gave me the freedom to be angry. Instead of trying to push forgiveness- which I had been trying to do- the author basically said Bullshit. You do not have to forgive people who abused you, especially people who have not taken responsibility or apologized for what they did. That book made me feel ok about being angry. It told me that I wasn’t a bad person for being angry with parents who were toxic to me as a child, and who continued to be toxic to me in adulthood. Like I said, it gave me the freedom to be angry. Do you have any idea what a relief that was? For there to be even just one person in the world who would allow me to feel that anger and not judge me for it… It was life changing. The freedom to be angry– I snatched that life line, clung to it, and still haven’t let it go. It has done wonders for my self confidence and empowerment.

I’d also like to point out that the public service announcement from the ’80s is true: “Parents Who Use Drugs Have Kids Who Use Drugs.”  My dad is an alcoholic and drug abuser. My brother Daniel is also an alcoholic and drug abuser. He is currently pretty much homeless. He’s been addicted to heroin for 3 years now… I think. Maybe longer. Before heroin it was pills- all kinds of pills. I heard rumors about Oxycontin and methadone, just to name two. I don’t know the names of the other drugs he crushed and snorted. Before the pills I had heard rumors of crack and cocaine. These rumors came via other family members. I have never actually witnessed my brother’s addiction. I’ve always avoided being around him. It wasn’t hard to do; as soon as he was 18 my mom helped him get an apartment and a job, and he was out. O-U-T, out!
Anyway, where was I…. Before the crack and cocaine it was marijuana and alcohol- lots and lots of marijuana and alcohol. This I know first hand, either because I heard him talk about it, or because I could hear him throwing up in the bathroom when he got home. He was 17. He had his first drink and smoked his first joint at the age of only 13, maybe 12. We grew up watching our dad roll and smoke joints and get drunk on a regular basis. Is it really any wonder that his son followed in his footsteps?

My mom did not do drugs or drink, but her father was an alcoholic. I don’t know half the details (not even close) of what went down in the home she grew up in, but I know there was a lot of anger and a lot violence. I am positive she has PTSD, and would also likely be diagnosed with a personality disorder if she would go to therapy like I have. With her father being an alcoholic she, of course, married an alcoholic. A very common pattern. And even though I’m not an alcoholic (and my husband isn’t an alcoholic), I’ve had a great deal of emotional issues to work through so my kids have still been effected by it. This is why alcoholism is called “a family disease.” Not only is there the genetic component, but there is also chaos, insanity, and dysfunctional behaviors that get passed down to the next generation.

Lucky for me I turn to books and writing rather than drugs and alcohol when I need help or comfort. It’s always been a natural instinct. For the past 15 years my focus has mostly been books, not as much writing. But recently that has started to change. I’ll start writing- a blog, a story- but then I stop. I abandon it. Yet here I am, trying it again because I need something. I need something that is mine and mine alone. Not something that I’m connected to because I’m someone’s wife or mother.
However, on the other hand, it truly is absurd for me to complain about anything. I have a good life, a really good life- especially considering where I started. I have been able to accomplish some incredible goals- a bachelor’s degree, an amazing husband, a good life for my kids. And I have the luxury, the choice, of being a stay-at-home parent, which is exactly what I said I wanted about 8 years ago. I don’t want a full-time job right now but… I don’t know how to explain it… I feel so pathetic because I don’t feel like I do anything important.

When all you really have in your life is yourself, your family, and your home- you will hyper focus on those things, and that can cause problems for all involved. Small things will seem a lot more important then they really are.  I hyper focus on myself, I’ve been doing it for years- my hair, my weight, my skin, my clothes. Am I  pretty? Am I sexy? Am I ugly? I am unattractive? Oh, god, I’m repulsive. Then there’s the house- we need to repaint, we need new carpet, new closet doors, new windows- we need a whole new house! We can’t actually afford to move, and we don’t need to- our house is just fine. We’re working on minor cosmetic things a little at a time, but, like I said, sometimes I hyper focus on insignificant details because my world is too small.

So let’s say I get the house, the hair, and the body I want. Then what? I’ll still feel like I’m lacking purpose. I’ll still feel insignificant. I still won’t have a career. I don’t even have a hobby! I still won’t have anywhere to be, nothing to accomplish beyond dishes, laundry, and dinner. I’ll still be lonely all day long. I’ll still feel unimportant and, frankly, a little pathetic. I mean, this shit is getting bad. My children are my main source of companionship! That is not ok. When our dishwasher broke I wasn’t in a hurry to get a new one because washing the dishes by hand gave me something to do! At the end of the last school year I started taking the long way to the grocery store because there’s more traffic- which meant I’d be around people… sort of.
So I’m not exactly thrilled about the kids going back to school. I mean, it will be nice to have some peace and quiet, and to get the house back in order, but…. Mostly I’m terrified by the emptiness and loneliness that I’m afraid will bear down on me.

This is a very new feeling for me. I’ve been a stay-at-home parent for 8 years, and it wasn’t until the end of this past school year that I started to feel this way. I have no idea what I’m going to do. The thought of being alone all day, day after day…. I just want to cry. In fact, I’m sure I will break down crying at some point within the first week of school. But even having them at home isn’t as fulfilling as…. I don’t know what. When the kids are there I’m not lonely, but I still don’t feel as important or significant as I perceive my husband to be at his job.  I know it means a lot to him that I’m at home with the kids. I’m sure it means a lot to the kids too that I’m here for them and do things with them, and it might hurt them if they knew that I sometimes feel this way. I like being home with them and there for them, but, like I said, I need something else. I need to expand my world.

My husband’s world is huge. My husband’s world is the world. Literally. He works for a large financial corporation that flies him to various cities around the country and pays for nice dinners. He talks to people in Manila and Mumbai. He’s even had the opportunity to go to  the Philippines or India. I’m sure he will one day. He has more than just a job, he has a full blown career. A career he loves! And a very successful one. He is about to get another promotion. He doesn’t even have to apply for promotions anymore, they give them to him. He’s at a six figure salary, and that doesn’t include bonus. He deserves it, of course. He’s very smart, he works really hard, and I know he does it for us. I’m very proud of him and grateful for how well he provides for us. And he’s a great guy! He’s thoughtful and generous and treats me very well. He’s my best friend. And he’s a great father.

But I have to admit I’m very jealous of his career. I’m sure it feels really good to be worth $100,000! I’m sure it must feel amazing to be around important, intelligent people and be treated like an equal. I’m sure if feels really good to be respected, to feel needed and valued, and rewarded for something you’re good at. I don’t have any of this.

My husband also has a really great hobby. He loves cars, so one day a few years ago he did a little research about how a person might go about becoming involved in the racing world. Lo and behold, he found out that in some race circuits the people who are behind the scenes- in pit row or doing the flags- are actually volunteers. He then discovered that not even 2 hours form our house is Mid-Ohio Sports Car Course  where could volunteer for SCCA- Sports Car Club of America. All he had to do was send an email, pay a small membership due, and attend a one day training course. Even that was cool. He learned how to put out different types of fires and all kinds of things. He has sense been given an award for New Race Volunteer of the year, been offered a position as a pit crew chief, and he’s been trained on flags. When he arrives at Mid-Ohio people are happy to see him- not only because he’s a nice guy, but because they need him there! Even his hobby has him out in the world, being valued. And on days when the SCCA volunteers aren’t busy because the larger race circuits (Nascar, Indy car) bring there own crews, he still gets to be there behind the scenes, checking out the cars, meeting cool (sometimes even famous) people.

Between his job and his hobby he meets all kinds of people. And he knows how to do it too. He has the knowledge and the confidence it takes to make the type of first impression that makes people remember you and want to know you. I don’t have that kind of confidence. I think I almost did, once upon a time. I know I had more confidence at one point, but that was before I was pregnant with my son 15 years ago. Still, even then, I didn’t have the confidence that my husband does. Yet, he’s humble. He would tell you that all he does is “try.” Okay, yes, it’s true- he has the guts to try new things. However, I have told him that it’s more than just that. Lots of people try but end up with zilch or only mild success. For my husband though, things just seem to have a way of always working out for him. He’s blessed. I don’t mean blessed as in “we are blessed with good health, a roof over our heads, and food on our table.” I mean blessed, as in you are The Golden Boy, The Chosen One. “GOOD FORTUNE IS BESTOWED UPON YOU MY SON.” He had to agree. The evidence is irrefutable.

So, let’s see…. successful career, provider for family, awesome hobby…. Oh, yeah. He also has a really great group of friends. The last time he got a group of guys together I think there were at least 12 of them. Umm, I don’t have 12 friends. I might have 6….

And then there’s his family. My husband has a great family. He has a lot of family. And they’re all really amazing people- not barely functioning people, not crazy people, not people who are incapable of having a healthy relationship- but amazing, happy, caring, successful people. Meanwhile, my family is dysfunctional and I’m not in contact with 99% of the people I’m related to.  My dad is always intoxicated. He gets drunk- completely drunk- every other day. So even on the days he doesn’t drink he still isn’t actually sober. The only time he calls me is when he’s had a few- or several- beers. Shit, he might also be high for all I know. He lives in a sketchy neighborhood and…. he has no teeth. That’s right. My dad has no teeth. They all had to be pulled because they were black and rotting away right before your eyes. He didn’t tolerate the dentures very well, got frustrated, threw them, and broke them. He can’t afford another pair, his 90 year-old father paid for the ones he broke!
I’ve never really had a relationship with my dad’s family. It’s a large family, but not a close family. He has 6 successful (older) brothers and sisters, but I hardly know them, or my cousins, or even my grandparents. I think it’s awkward for them too. My brothers and I never really felt like we fit in.

Then there’s my mom. Growing up she was very, very angry and unpredictable. Living with her was extremely difficult. To illustrate just how difficult it was I’ll share that I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD, among other things. My dad was the alcoholic, but he was a lot easier to tolerate than my mom. He was even easier to be around. But as the years have gone by my mom has slowly calmed down. She has more self-control now, but she can still be difficult to be around. She is, however, a really good grandparent. My relationship with her currently revolves around my kids and that’s about it. As for my mom’s family….Wow. Crazy, crazy, weird, unhealthy people. Once I started going to Al-Anon and therapy I stopped forcing myself to spend time with them. I was never comfortable around them, but I thought I had to be around them because we’re related. Well, I know better now. I will not tolerate people who do not speak to me with respect, who make fun of me, call me names, and de-pants my child! They are not healthy people. I just stay away from them.
I was, however, very close to my grandma- my mom’s mom. In fact, my mom became very jealous of the relationship my grandma and I had. But she was nice to me! My grandma was nice to me; she made me feel loved and special, which probably saved my life. But Grandma died several years ago….
That brings me to “Nos”, my youngest brother. He’s in school working towards a degree in electrical engineering. He’s getting good grades too. I’m proud of him. He did a few years in the Navy so that’s paying for school. Smartest thing he ever did. He and I were close when we were growing up, but we haven’t been close for a very long time. He doesn’t avoid our parents or my mom’s family the way I do, but, then again, he also drinks a lot. It’s possible he’s an alcoholic. However, I do give him kudos and admire that he is loyal to his family- even if they’re a mess. I just can’t do it.
So the closest thing I have to family right now is actually my husband’s family. They are very, very good to me- but it’s not the same. I still kind of feel like an orphan sometimes.

I had always planned to get as far away from my childhood as possible, and I have with my husband’s help. He has helped me grow emotionally, he’s taught me maturity and responsibility, how to be a more patient parent.

It’s hard not to feel like I owe him. So, I feel like I owe him and I’m jealous of him. And I love him- all at the same time. It’s hard to feel like his equal. It doesn’t come up often, but I’m starting to feel embarrassed to meet or spend time with the people in all of his many circles. He does so much and I do so little. People always want to know what you do. What can I say? I don’t have much to say. It’s all about what he (my husband) does, and what the kids are up to. But I don’t actually do anything. Certainly not anything that’s conversation worthy. I feel like I’m in his shadow, like I’m important only by extension.
He certainly doesn’t see me this way. And I know that, in reality, no one else does either.
But I still feel like he has everything, and I have nothing. (I know I have a lot more than nothing. I just want to wallow in self pity, okay!?)

It doesn’t seem fair. I’ve worked really hard too, and I continue to work hard to be the best I can for my kids. I’m terrified that I’m going to screw them up the way my parents screwed up with me and my brothers.
So I work hard to be sane and healthy for them, but you do not get bonuses or a fancy title for being a good parent. You do not graduate from therapy with a degree, there is no “most improved patient of the year” award, and self-improvement is not a paying career. It goes largely unacknowledged. Overcoming generations of alcoholism, overcoming poverty- these are necessary for a healthy life, and they are major achievements, but there’s not going to be any formal record of these accomplishments. And none of this is appropriate dinner conversation.

I said I have nothing…. But I have a lot more than nothing, I know. Still, I’m jealous of everything my husband has. I try to be happy for him when all these good things come his way, and most of the time I am genuinely happy for him. I try not to resent him. I love him. We have a great relationship. He’s my best friend. I adore him and I’m so proud of him! I’m proud to be his wife!
But I do need more. I need something of my own. I need to expand my world. It’s a good thing I’ve read The Feminine Mystique, otherwise I wouldn’t understand what the hell is going on with me. Because of that book I know that what I’m struggling with (loneliness, insignificance, lack of purpose) is not uncommon for a stay-at-home-parent. But I have to do something about it before depression really takes over. I have a few ideas. We’ll see…..