Unmotherhood land

where all of your children "unfriend" you on Facebook
where your child doesn't answer the phone when you call, yet complains that you never initiate contact.
where your children threaten to stop coming to visit, and you breathe a huge sigh of relief.
where you're not invited to your child's graduation
where your child goes overseas and you find out weeks later - "by the way", third hand
where your child undergoes surgery and you find out weeks later - "by the way", third hand

BUT: they still know how to find you when they need your help.

Green with envy

OK, I'll admit it - I've been green with envy ever since I could spell my own name. Not so much for fancy toys or gadgets, but for "normal" happy families, like those of my classmates and school friends. Well, not all of them were picture perfect either, but all seemed better than mine.

Once I was finished with school, I was envious of so many friends who were married and expecting or having children - again, building that picture perfect family that I wanted so badly for myself.

While living in my own family-turned-horribleness, I became envious of divorced women. Now I find myself once again envious of all the picture perfect families surrounding me, involved with all their children's lives - whether married or not - and helping raise their grandchildren in (seeming) bliss.

Then it finally hit me - I know that happiness is acquired, doesn't happen on its own and can't be taken for granted. That means that it doesn't depend on life circumstances, either. Many of those other families that I see aren't really as picture perfect as they seem to be; they too are wrestling with their own serious issues. Those families that truly are brimming with love and respect still aren't truly happy, unless they make it their business to be.

Many happily marrieds still find plenty to complain about in their own lives. Their children married too early or too late. They have too many children or none at all. There is serious illness in the family. The marrieds don't follow the same path in life as their parents. The mother is anxious about any cough or sneeze.
The grocery ran out of their favorite breakfast cereal.

No matter what, one can always find what to gripe about and each one of us has to make the choice of happiness - or not. The fact of my isolation from some of my children needn't grant me the undisputed right to be unhappy. For me, too, this is my choice - or not. I don't have to focus my life perspective on the love I'm not receiving, and if I do, it's my own doing that is causing me to have a miserable existence on that account..

And why would anyone in their right mind make a choice to be miserable??
Now I know this in my mind, but it's not (yet) keeping my envy at bay.

Family?

When we married, I hoped and prayed for a peaceful home filled with a brood of happy, healthy children. Part of my prayers were answered; although our home was far from peaceful, the 2nd part was fully granted.
Little did I know that having children didn't guarantee being considered part of their family.

But I'm at least glad they feel the liberty of abandoning me rather than needing to feel that I've abandoned them.

Sometimes

He acts so differently with them sometimes - sometimes he's not shouting, yelling, and cursing them for not doing what he expected. Sometimes he remembers to ask nicely, to show them appreciation and respect.

When that happens, I don't feel happy for them, as I feel I should, and I don't feel gratified that maybe forcing the issue was what helped him learn better manners.

I feel angry - that he couldn't act that way with me.

Although if I think back honestly, he did act that way often at the beginning of our marriage. He was then sometimes a lunatic Dr. Jekyll and other times Mr. Hyde, full of gentility and charm. It was only after years of debasing and abuse, years in which we both grew accustomed to the status quo and accepted it, that he didn't feel the need to be Mr. Hyde anymore.

Just yesterday the children commented to each other on how much crueler he can be with them as they get older. I guess he knows to put on the "Mr. Hyde" routine as he feels that he's losing his hold - first on me and now on them.

So, no - there's no need to rejoice for their sakes at this master performance of charm and good grace - because that's all it is, a performance to make sure that he doesn't lose his hold on them as he eventually lost it on me. If anything, it's all the more saddening.

Birthday wishes

Yesterday was my daughter's birthday, but I didn't dare call to give her birthday greetings and good wishes. So I'll do it here.

I wish you a long life full of happiness and joy, free of abuse of any kind, loved and respected by your household for all your wonderful G-d given talents. May you find your dear intended very soon; may you learn to cherish others without bossing them, to tolerate faults without blaming.

May you find it within your heart to forgive me for all my faults and mistakes, large and small, real and imagined. May we be a family once again. May you never know such bitterness in your own journey. May you only know goodness and graciousness throughout your life.

Thanksgiving and gratitude

Now it is Sukkot, a time for thanksgiving and gratitude for all the everyday little things, that all together add up to big ones.

Thank G-d for the order of protection that allows me to finally live at peace in my own home, to sleep in my own bed in comfort and without fear, to sit at the head of my own table - albeit alone- without being disturbed. I didn't feel loneliness, only solitude. I read and contemplated finding meaning in life and in suffering and on the meaning of true happiness, that happiness doesn't come by itself but must be achieved.

Thank G-d for having acquired the fortitude and confidence to stick to my guns and not succumb to the pressure to give in - for that may well have been the prelude to giving up.

I had deliberated between eating by myself at home or eating as a guest at a friend's sukkah,where I had been invited. I'm glad I opted to stay home and delight in the peace and quiet of being in charge of my surroundings, of feeling "at home", at long last. Something that should never be taken for granted.

I thank G-d for having persevered through the turbulence of anger and mistrust, that I never did reach the point of actively evicting the children from their home (although so many well-meaning friends advised me to do just that). I thank G-d for having learned to hear my quiet "inner voice" and to trust it, to cultivate and strengthen it, listening to it even above the voices of "experts" all around.

The turbulence has lessened and I have become more inured to it, as well. In short - this too shall pass.

Let's see things now from their side

When all is said and done, the one who has to live with the resentment, however justified and well-deserved, is the one who feels wronged; and that isn't healthy, no matter what.

Since no forgiveness will be forthcoming from the children - and they are the children, after all - I need to be the more mature side of this equation. For my good as well as theirs - and I care so deeply about their well-being.

So now let's try to see things from their perspective.

They've been exposed to abuse all their lives, whether I was the target or others; they themselves have each been abused by their dad sometime along the way. And yet - he's still and all their dad. They need to love him and see the good in him.

[But why does that have to make me into the villain?]

A vivid dream

I had a really vivid dream last night - I almost died. It wasn't a violent death; it seemed to be an unnatural untimely death from some disease. Why I was dying didn't seem to be an issue, didn't concern me. What did concern me was not wanting to distress my young son who was with me at the time. Although a trained nurse who was with me could see all the signs of my imminent demise, when I felt sleep coming on me, I fought it with all my might, for his sake - not for mine.

The nurse couldn't believe that I was still holding on, still living and breathing. And that's how the dream ended.

I felt that this dream must have some hidden message. It was so different than any the other dream I've ever had. It didn't seem to match with any daytime events either.

And then I understood. I am holding on to my sanity by a thin thread. The ongoing abuse - first from my parents, then from my spouse and now from my children - draws my very life-blood from me. The easiest thing in the world at this point would be to give in, to give up, to lie down and just let things run their course.

And yet I keep on struggling, for deep down inside, I know the truth. That I do this as much (if not more) for their sakes, not only for mine. That I do all I can try to help them learn the truth - that abuse of any kind is no good.

Do mom's have rights? or only wrongs?

ok, so I lowered the boom on their dad. Only this time around, I decided to give the kids the benefit of the doubt, not to do anything "behind their backs", not to ignore them (as they are anyhow involved; if not by me, then it will be by him) not to spare them, and most important of all - that they shouldn't hear it from their dad, but straight from the horse mouth. (yup, that's me!)

One of them decided to spare her sisters (and me!) from separate assaults, taking full responsibility for the others' delicate feelings and the required response. Thus - so far, at least - I only needed to endure one well-aimed email missive (missile?) telling me all about how they had been working so hard not to nurse their deep grievances against me (for which horrendous action of mine, they never really spelled out to me); but now I had destroyed all that with just one "thoughtless" act.

Now they need to rethink if they are at all interested in retaining any contact with me.
I hear so much about the agony of estrangement. Who would have thought that one would long for it?
Well, not forever. But I could sure use a vacation from them, for a while.

The strangest thing about all this is that they even admit that I had been an ok mom, that on the whole they had a happy childhood - up until I peeked out of my shell and discovered my rights.

Who would have thought that I should have any rights at all?

Why does it have to hurt so much?

Why do their little darts hurt so much? why do I let them hurt me? How can I not? Would it be better if I were to be cold as a stone wall, immovable and unfeeling?

Then again, if I ask myself if it's worth it to me for even $10 to open my mouth and cause more backtalk by answering, that helps shut me up and clears the air quicker (although not my insides, which are still churning even hours later). But then again, then I am allowing them to think that this insulting derisive talk is ok in the family. But if I answer them and it evolves into a big fuss instead of a little one, then is that any better?

But wasn't this silence mistake of mine throughout my marriage? But in an abusive situation, there really is no right answer - whether you answer or not, the abuse isn't in the victim's hands at all.

How horribly frustrating. and exasperating. any more descriptions necessary?

Abuse vs. infertility

I know it's stupid to compare apples with oranges and that each and everyone of us has their own private pain to deal with somehow in this crazy upside down world of ours, but I see so many infertility blogs, and I can't help reading.

One woman complained about how visible pregnancy, and therefore infertility, is - that it becomes somehow everybody's business to look at her flat stomach and give her helpful advice - not!

I wonder if that's any easier than my nodding and smiling to acquaintances on the street, making small talk at various get-togethers, trying to kvetch along with everybody else over all the petty "stuff", while crying invisibly inside.

Would life be easier/better if everyone really saw what others are enduring? Why did HKBH choose to cause davka infertility to be so visible - even choosing this topic as the theme for our prayers as a people asking for Heavenly compassion during these Days of Awe?

"blood is thicker than water"?

They say "blood is thicker than water", that there's nothing like family, that "you can never go home again". Well, quite frankly, I really wouldn't want to go back to that dreary, awful home that I once knew as a child, filled with tension, uncomfortable silence, and anger.

I'm not saying ch'v that my parents don't love us; they just were too wrapped up in their own interior worlds to be able to convey that love to us as parent to child. They need to be emotionally supported by me, not the other way around. That's the way it's always been, even while growing up "at home". I definitely couldn't make it thought this present quagmire without the help of my dear friends.

My children also grew up in a home filled with tension and anger, but it had laughter and love as well. They actually say that they had a happy childhood. Apparently I was able to contain my grief, sadness, and confusion within myself well enough to be able to allow them to feel loved and cherished - thank G-d!!

On the other hand - that's exactly what makes it so hard for them to understand why the divorce was so necessary, why the home had to be "broken", why life couldn't just go on as it always had before.

Pray for me.

A friend asked me today how emotionally supportive my children have been of me - I had to laugh! I'm lucky when they're not spitting vile comments my way, when they can agree to be moderately accepting of the fact that my tastes may differ from theirs and allow me that possibility without deriding me for it at the same time.

I've often wondered how strange or abnormal I must be if my parents, spouse, and adult children have problems accepting me for who I am, have difficulty even seeing me past their illusion of who they would want me to be.

My children and I have come a long way in a positive direction in the past couple of years, following my separation from their dad, but I feel that I must lay down new stiffer rules regarding their father's visitations and I fear what this may do to our fragile relationship. If I don't do this, I will wither away and nobody will ever know the real me, not even myself. If I do, I may be abandoned and scorned once again, left adrift to face the world's ugly turmoil all alone. But this is a chance I must take. Pray for me.

How to grieve?

I know that I need to allow myself to grieve in order to be able to move on and I know that I need to recognize the pain in order to grieve - and I'm too busy rationalizing for them in order not to feel my own pain.

Will the pain ever cease?

OK, so I've sorted out who's on which "side" in this family drama and I know that I'm not at "fault". I am getting love from some to counteract the darts from others. I've rationalized why they feel they need to act this way. I've decided not to have any expectations of change, to stop reaching out in order to protect my own emotional health.

So why can't it stop hurting when child A hugs and kisses child B, giving me barely a glance? Their seemingly innocuous comments leave me just as cold and speechless as when their dad spoke similar words. I remind myself a hundred times, a thousand times, that I don't need their approval, that it should be enough that I know inside myself that I've done no wrong, that I'm "allowed" to be sensitive and feel hurt, that I don't need their permission (as in: "why do you take everything so personally? or: "you're so over-emotional", after being told I'm a "bad loser" because I joked with their kid sister that I won't play games with her anymore, since she wins too much.)

I don't know if the hurt inside will ever go away, just as losing a child ch'v doesn't erase them from your memory. I can't even draw on anything positive memories because everything has gone cold inside; the hurt festers, unbeckoned, unwanted.

Will the pain cease if we do manage to build bridges sometime in the distant future? Only time will tell.

The characters in the play

I've finally sorted out the players in my life drama. The oldest have figured things out for themselves and try very hard to stay in the middle, not taking sides at all, yet defending me again the most severe abuse. Those young enough to have been still living at home at the time of our separation have a really good, healthy relationship with me and are even capable of apologies when they step out of line.

They experienced an entirely different mom than the older ones did - one capable of taking charge and setting proper boundaries, not cowering under the weight of constant insults and criticism, with a healthy dash of humor besides. Although saddened beyond words by their rejection, this is the reason I actually understand those that don't know how to respect me - after all, the mom they knew didn't deserve it.

Part of me [the thinking, rational part] says to be happy with what I have - thank G-d I do have children who love and respect me. There are so many out there who don't even have that - some women never even got to be a mom at all. Anyhow, those children who choose to follow in their father's footsteps - it's their choice; it has nothing to do with me, actually. It's simply their way of responding to the rage and confusion that dominated their lives from early on. And really - this attitude has its roots so far back. Throughout the years they were influenced by their father's mockery of me and never accepted my proper place in the family dynamics. I was always pushed to the side, from way way back. Besides, at a certain point when they were teens, I willingly and knowingly relinquished my parental role when tripped up too many times trying to enforce discipline, so what can one even realistically expect of them?

In their experience, they're entirely correct in their attitude. I sold out on their account so long ago. I remember all too well all the times I was too overwhelmed - physically and emotionally - to be really involved with them, satisfied to leave them to their own devices. Yes, I did try so hard to be with them on the important occasions, but it really was much too little.

OK, I'm rationalizing for them in order to lessen the pain. Yes, it hurts in the gut, but I need to accept it and soldier on.

They come by it honestly

It took me 25 long hard bitter years to realize that my dh was horribly abusive. It took me another 5 of giving my adult children the benefit of the doubt to decide that there isn't any longer any doubt - they've learned their lessons well from him and even better, how to cover it up. You see, there's a hard and fast rule that even abusers have their own red lines which they won't cross, behaviors that even they consider reprehensible. My dh was almost never physically abusive, but boy, was his mouth foul! So my children have gone a step further in covering their tracks - they don't shout, curse, or use vulgar language - and yet they are definitely abusive. But I'm sure they for sure wouldn't consider themselves as such.

Here are some recent examples:

Child A to Child B (with me present in the room): "How is it that we haven't yet taught Mommy to stop using these dishes? You'd think after so many of them breaking on account of our carelessness she'd get the message? Oh well, soon there won't be any left; then she'll understand. (If she doesn't replace them with the same ugly set all over again...)"

Child B throwing out a small piece of watermelon in front of my face, claiming it to be spoiled. (In actuality, it mars her sense of perfectionism to have small bits of unspoiled leftovers in the fridge.) My "don't" didn't make it out of my mouth before it landed straight in the garbage pail. Then she said - "oh, now Mommy's going to cry over that little piece of watermelon - look!" (Yes, I did start to cry from her thoughtlessness and non-caring attitude.)
Child A to me: You're always overly sensitive and take everything so personally!

Me to Child C: I prefer that one give a salutation of sorts before going out the front door.
Child C: Well, if I didn't, I guess it's because I didn't care to. And I'm too old for you to try to educate me now.

[Do these sound also to you as if they were taken straight from tape recorded sessions off their dad's records?]

Here I am

well, here I am - in unmotherhood land - a land you enter against your will after having given your all to try and create a picture happy home filled with children, love, and laughter. There was supposed to be a loving caring husband in the picture as well. Oh, how I believed that dream and tried to make it come true! I kept believing even while reality and truth was so far away from my illusions - even as my 'dear' husband ridiculed and criticized, badmouthing me incessantly in front of the children, hoping against hope that I could somehow find the magic formula to make it all "right",  me not opposing him, believing all the while that the less I stirred up the anger and shouting, the better.

But it wasn't meant to be - I finally fully and truly understood that this was a horribly abusive marriage that couldn't work, that one cannot make it work all alone if the other one sabotages all her efforts, so I finally and reluctantly threw in the towel and filed for divorce.

I didn't know that a few years later I would be emotionally divorcing my adult children as well, those children who had suckled at my breast while at the same time ingesting husband's poison against me. I've finally decided that it is not in my (or theirs!) best interests to allow them to berate me as their father did; I've finally decided that my friends were right, that I should find ways to make their visits "home" less pleasant, if not curb them completely.

I didn't intend to start my own blog. I was sure there must be many others out there suffering similarly (that's what the statistics seem to say) and there must be other blogs - but I couldn't find anyone out there in cyberspace to commiserate with. Lots of infertility blogs - some end happily with the long awaited baby and others not.

Well, I gave birth to my own long awaited baby by being granted a divorce, but I'm still struggling; my suffering is far from being over; it will probably be life-long. Divorcing children is quite different - one can never hope to reach real closure on that one, nor would I want to. Even as I decide to reduce my contact with them still more, to stop trying to reach out to them against their wishes, my heart bleeds.