Hello blog, I’ve missed you!  You’re like an old friend that I keep passing in the night and saying hi to, but never stopping to really chat.  I’m so glad to be back and hopefully we can keep meeting like this often.  🙂

 

When I was pregnant with my third child, my relationship with my mother exploded into a scary spiral of mental illness, anger and fear.  It took a few years of analyzing and soul-searching to sort out the myriad of “mommy issues” that came up during that period of time….hurts that had laid dormant for most of my life, questions I’d never wanted to ask and so on.  It was hard work that often forced me to reevaluate my outlook and my behavior, as well as question my own parenting relationships with my own children (eek!).  During that process, I also realized that some of my other parent-child relationships were not healthy for me, but I put them mostly on the back burner while I sifted through my mom stuff.

In the past month I’ve been forced, in multiple ways, to deal with my “daddy issues”.  This has been coming for some time now, but hit a peak point during his most recent visit, when I had to (again) tell my child that no, there would be no riding in the car with Papa.  Two of my children have hit the age where they understand some of the subtleties in life, picking up on everyone’s uncomfortableness.  One of them directly questioned my decision (who teaches these kids to question everything, sheesh!) and, as a result, learned not only about Papa but also about laws and the way they are sometimes skirted around.  It’s tough to explain (duh!) to a child why one wouldn’t automatically call the police on someone breaking the law.  [Let me be clear…I am NOT saying that anyone broke the law, ever, as that would be really dumb to say in a public forum.  I am merely saying that discussions about those kinds of situations, “situational ethics” are what I call them, have happened.]  Explaining to the children, protecting them, then leads me to think about when I was a child.  And I get angry.  Why was I allowed to go into unsafe situations?  Why wasn’t I protected?

And then, almost two weeks ago, an incident led to a major change in Papa’s life.  He no longer has immediate and constant access to substances that have been in his life more than me.  Yesterday, we spoke on the phone and it was the first time I’ve heard his voice have that kind of clarity to it.  I was surprised to find myself on the verge of tears and I didn’t know what to say or think….I still don’t.

 

 

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