Adele

Ah, I love music. Every so often, a new song comes to my attention that really and truly captures my life in lyrics. Case in point: Adele's Rolling in the Deep. It was recently featured in an episode of The Secret Life of the American Teenager. (I think a contestant on the most recent season of American Idol might have featured it, too, but I digress). Either way, I heard it and was hooked immediately. There are other songs, too, that really give me a jolt, but not in the same way that I totally relate to the verses and refrains of Adele. As I sit here typing this, my husband is in Misery (Missouri). He is there to visit his son, my stepson, Tristan, because his mother has a (supposedly impartial) party connected to our custody case thoroughly wrapped around her "poor, poor, pitiful me" finger. Ever since Terry and the rest of my family pulled out of my driveway this morning, the anger, the anxiety, the tension, and the hurt that I have been feeling towards this woman--but suppressing in large part--came bubbling back to the surface. I've been sitting here at the computer for hours stewing, letting the indignity of this situation rise and plateau, then rise again and again, reaching new and hitherto unknown heights of which I did not realize my heart and mind were capable. When I finally turned on Adele, I was fire-and-brimstone, wrath-of-God, hellfire-and-damnation, almost-blind-with-rage furious. The ire I was feeling at that point reached such a level that I can only compare it to the way I have previously felt (at different points in my life) about Rodney, Chris, Chuck, Serena, and my parents all rolled into one and multiplied by ten. 

Righteous indignation. That's what Jesse Duplantis would call this feeling. There is a real, Bibically-based injustice happening to me and my family right now, and I'm rightfully angry about it! I have given the situation over to God, and it is by His grace alone that this weekend visit is even taking place. That doesn't change the way I feel about the situation, though. I'm trying my best NOT to hate her. I really am trying. But, at times like these, when I'm left alone with my feelings and don't have to hide them for anyone's sake, I am finding even that a challenge.

But, back to Adele. Her song Rolling in the Deep just sums up how I feel about this woman and the hurts she has willfully inflicted upon my family.

There's a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch, and it's bringing me out the dark
Finally I can see you crystal clear
Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your shit bare
See how I'll leave with every piece of you
Don't underestimate the things that I will do

 Ah, where to start. With that first part... I think I've already adequately described how the first two lines specifically relate to how I'm feeling at the moment. I love the next line--Finally I can see you crystal clear! For the first few years of my relationship with Terry, I defended that hateful wretch of a woman. As a mother, I was certain that I could understand, at least partially, the unique predicament that she was in. Yeah, then I got to know her, and interact with her, and I saw that it wasn't that Terry was exaggerating, it wasn't that he was bitter or angry at her--he was simply telling me the unfiltered truth about her. "Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your shit bare" you stupid psycho bitch. You have no idea of the crap that I have compiled and will continue to compile against you. "See how I'll leave with every piece of you/Don't underestimate the things that I will do." Self-explanatory. One day, in one way or another, I will have your ass. If you force me to, I will shred it and leave you crying as you stare at the pieces.

Baby, I have no story to be told
But I've heard one of you
And I'm gonna make your head burn
Think of me in the depths of your despair
Making a home down there
As mine sure won't be shared

You think you have dirt on me or my husband? Think again. Anything that you think you know can be easily explained away.I know all about you, girl. I know how you were taking your kids to work with you--only to leave them unsupervised. I know how you don't know who the father of your youngest child is--as evidenced by the fact that there is no current court order for child support for him. I know that, if you knew who he was, you would be attempting to milk him dry just as you have done to us. I know how you are playing the on-again-off-again game with your current boyfriend--damaging both of your boys' chances for learning to trust male authority figures. Speaking of said boyfriend, I know that there is a strong possibility that he is abusing your younger son. I know that there will come a time when all of this will come back to bite you squarely in the ass as the karma train comes back around the circuit. I hope you think of me when it does. I want you to sit back and know that I was right and you were wrong. I want you to roll-around in your own self-imposed hell on earth and know that I am a happy, productive member on society, as is my husband. I won't share your fate in this life.

Throw your soul through every open door
Count your blessings to find what you look for
Turn my sorrow into treasured gold
You pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow

You really have done that, haven't you, Lenya? You've thrown your soul to anyone who will listen. You play the pity card so often that you should just go ahead and get a literal version made for you to carry in your purse. Have you found what you're looking for? Something tells me that's a negative. Otherwise, you would be content. Eventually, though, somehow, some way, you will screw up big enough to "turn my sorrow into treasured gold." Then, and only then, will I proceed to "lay your shit bare" and show the entire world who you really are. Just remember, that they way you treat me will be bestowed back upon you tenfold, if not directly from me, then from Terry or Tristan or Hunter or any one of the other poor fools you've duped. You have lit an unquenchable fire in my soul that will consume you eventually, in one way or another, and it is very likely to be painful. Only you can put it out.

Wow. I feel slightly better now.

The illusion of the step "family"

(Tristan looking over my shoulder at the computer screen... yet again).
Me: Are you reading over my shoulder again?
Tristan: (nods)
Me: Is there anything on the computer for you?
Tristan: (shakes his head)
Me: Are you supposed to be reading over my shoulder at the computer?
Tristan: (shakes his head)
Me: Is this proof that you don't listen to a word I say?
Tristan: ... (no response)
Me: (nodding my head) Yes.

This is a typical exchange between my stepson and me. This is pretty much the only time I talk to him, because he's never home. When he is home, he's usually being scolded. He has the memory of a goldfish, and I swear to you that he could not care less whether I live or die, so long as he gets food. I really feel like he purposely does things to get under my skin. Why else would he do the same thing over and over?

I don't know what else to do with/about this child. Discipline? Has no effect. Scolding. Same. Spanking, time out, grounding, removing privileges, positive reinforcement: No effect whatsoever. I'm so sick of giving my all to a child who thinks I'm dirt. I'm sick of having to clean up his mother's messes with increasing frequency. I knew this was going to be hard, but DAMN. Where is the break for this girl? At least Terry has the benefit of always having the child's love. I don't even have that. The bottom line is that Tristan can choose to care about be because of those four little letters in the beginning of my title--"s-t-e-p". Step-mom. That's my title. And the step part allows him to completely disregard any-and everything that I do or don't do or say. Stacia said earlier today that someone needs to write a book about step families telling the truth (agreed). None of this mamby-pamby business about how it can be a harmonious life and how everyone can get along peaceably. I CALL BULLSHIT! Seriously, whoever wrote those books was living in a fucking dream world. Or smoking something fabulous. If it is the latter, I think I deserve a free sample purely on the basis that I actually spent money on their bullshit lies. So, Stacia: whenever you're ready, I'm down to be a contributor in the book. Maybe writing a book will prevent us from killing our respective step-children and step-wives.

It's been a while

I've forgotten how cathartic writing can be. So, while I drink my second cup of coffee and prepare to go and run my errands, I figured... why not?

Junior is crying in my bedroom. It's a fine day for a cranky baby. He wanted a drink. I got him one. He's pissed for some reason probably relating to the fact that I'm here on the computer attempting to work out the rust in my fingers and remember how to type. I couldn't type at all yesterday thanks to the weather. It's been a while since I've had to try and type by sight, not by touch. With my wrist in such a state yesterday, that was what I was lowered to. So, school work is officially a week behind, but my professors both know what's been going on. Hopefully, I'll gain some sympathy and leniency from them.

I have to take Sarah to the vet to get her stitches out here in a bit, then go to the store. Then, at 4, Tristan has another appointment with his therapist. Ah, Tristan. He's starting to let his guard down with us a bit. And we with him. This whole legal case has put a new perspective on things. We have come to realize just how irritatingly stupid his mother is, and that, as a result, most of his behavior and mannerisms are purely a product of her particular brand of "upbringing"... if you can call what she did such a thing. Sure, he's a alive and has some basic skills, but none of those skills pertain to surviving and thriving in the real world. She's shown her stupidity in new and interesting ways here lately...

• She is suing us for Sole Legal and Physical Custody of Tristan, but did not list any reasons as to why "it would be in the best interests of the minor child."
• Her attorney decided to try and represent both her and Tristan, which is a conflict of interest in every state.
• She is still being inconsistent at best with regards to calling Tristan. (Tristan is starting to notice this now that he's keeping a journal. *I've been helping him along on this path to realization by pointing out "Isn't someone supposed to call you today?" It hurts his feelings, I know, but at least he's getting it.)
• Thanks to Plainview, I now have Tristan's school records from Missouri. Apparently, "papers are never taken out of [Tristan's] take home folder." Way to show interest and offer support for your child's educations, lady.

All of these things, and much more, go against her. True, there are a few things that go against us, such as Terry not exercising visitation or calling Tristan very often (which is her fault anyway) and our refusal to allow her to come and visit him in September (yeah, cause we're not stupid).

DRUNK BLOGGING.... (uh-oh)

So... What's on my mind? Well, my aunt recently joined facebook. That's on my mind. I love my Aunt Ruth. She pretty much raised me until I was 14. No offense, Mom... I love you very much. I really, honestly do. I wouldn't trade anything for the relationship that you and I now have... But, let's face it. Aunt Ruth had more hands on, one on one time with me. I knew who was my mom and who was Aunt Ruth. I just... I don't quite know what I'm trying to say. Maybe the crux of the situation is that I'm having some abandonment issues regarding her. She left me. Plain and simple... Just up and left when I was 14 years old. One of the huge turning points in my life. I was just starting high school... and she left. I don't care who else wanted her to leave or stay. I wanted her to stay. She didn't care. She only visited once, and didn't really write or call after that. My heart was, and still is, broken. Was I really that disposable? Why didn't she love me enough to even keep in freaking contact? Maybe that is part of the problem I was having as a teenager. I don't know. I just know that I've been drinking Midori spiked margaritas tonight, and I don't want to turn into a sobbing, slobbering, sappy drunk. I'm having a good time, and I don't want to ruin it. Other than having this little issue of "what the fuck? why didn't she bother to keep in contact with me?" I'm in a great point in my life. I'm 30 and relatively okay with that. I love and get along with both of my parents. Junior is doing very well. I'm able to watch Trisha grow into a young woman (and I have to point out here that Mom and Dad are doing an absolutely fantastic job with her. Not only is she a very grounded person, but they have given me every opportunity to be an active part of her life. This just goes to show how forgiving parents can be. Once I got my shit together, they were more than willing to give me full access.). Sure, there are two other kids I have no contact with... and I hate that fact. It was for the best for everyone involved. There will come a day.... I digress. Where I'm really going is that I missed my Aunt Ruth. I love her. I hate the fact that she didn't deem me worthy of a phone call every once in a while. My feelings are hurt, but I'm willing to try and make amends, no strings. I just want her to tell me why..... why... why....?

Why am I here?

Week one of group therapy and I already have homework.  WTF?  She knows I'm in school... Anyway, my first assignment is as follows...

 

"This group is designed to support you through a process of change.  Positive change is possible, but making change happen is your responsibility and takes your motivation, commitment and hard work.

 

"Your open and honest responses here and your willingness to do the work of change will provide a pathway to you to carry out lasting positive change that improves the quality of your life.

 

"We need to help you explore your purpose and expectations about being here.  Why are you here?  How do you feel about being here?  What do you need to work on to improve your life experience?  How can you make the most of this experience?"

 

The rest of the page gives me 8 measley little lines to write out my answers to those questions.  Are they serious?  I can write 8 pages on any ONE of those questions.  I told them that I was going to type this up.  Free writing is probably the best way to go about this, so here I go...

 

Question 1: Why are you here?  (The "you" being me, and the "here" being the group therapy)
Well, the most obvious answer that comes to my mind for this question is "Because you are making me do this" (the "you" being my therapist).  However, that isn't really true.  She isn't "making" me do anything.  I'm perfectly free to abstain from these bi-monthly sessions.  She, in turn, would be perfectly free to terminate the services I'm receiving there.  So, that would normally lead me to a revised answer "You are coercing me into these sessions so I can continue to receive the medications that are keeping me relatively sane"... but... that's not really true, either.  She is trying to, and I believe genuinely wants to, help me.  SHE isn't coercing me, the "powers that be" are by changing the qualifying guidelines that SHE must adhere to.  Still, I do feel somewhat coerced, but that still doesn't answer the question.... Effin A... What am I trying to get at here?  I could give a cliched answer "So I can get better through the support of others and a higher power"... Yeah, I can't even think that sentance with a straight face it's so played out and tired... (Hi, my name is Crystal, and I'm an alcoholic).  So, why am I going to group therapy?  Honestly?  Cause I do have other resources by which I can obtain my meds legally, albeit more expensively.  Well, firstly, I like Rebecca.  Even though I've had my misgivings, I trust her.  I trust her judgement.  I trust her to not sugar coat things.  I trust her to tell me the things that I don't want to hear, but need to anyway.  I trust her to offer me a tissue when I (inevitably) start crying out of nowhere (which is something I only do when I blog, or when I'm in her office).  So, when she tells me that this will help me in the long run, I'm willing to put up with a few awkward and uncomfortable experiences/feelings/interactions to give it a shot.  That is why I'm here.

Question 2: How do you feel about being here? (again, the "you" being me and the "here" being the therapy)
Well, that's a loaded question, and I kind of answered it in the previous question.  I feel somewhat coerced by an unnamed institution headed by a faceless panel of people.  Consequently, I'm a little resentful, though not towards anyone who is participating in the group.  So far, I seem to have things in common with the rest of the participants, and that's good.  So, that makes me feel a little less singled-out and a little more at ease.  Having an anxiety disorder, I tend to be ill-at-ease a large percentage of the time, especially when I feel forced into a situation.  On a related note, I am pretty nervous. I don't know if I'm ready to change, because I feel like if I change, I won't be myself anymore. I don't want to be molded into an entirely different person.

Question 3: What do you need to work on to improve your life experience?
Well, if there was ever a time for using a bulleted list, this is it...

• Letting go.  I've heard it said over and over, "Let go, and let God."  Yeah, can someone please explain to me exactly HOW to do that?  I understand the concept behind it, but I just can't seem to put it into practice. (**Sidenote: Those who can't DO, teach. I don't want to be a teacher. I want to be a doer.)
• Related to the first is control. When I'm uncomfortable in a situation, I almost always feel the need for control. I, without consciously trying to, will take over and take control of a situation if I'm uncomfortable. Heck, I can look back and see that I tried to do it in our first session. I can also look back and see that our therapist very subtlely pointed that out, without calling me out on it. (Thanks for that, by the way.)  Trying to control each and every aspect of my life is probably at the root of a few of my mental disorders.  So, learning some other methods would do me a great deal of good here.
• Coping skills.  Yep, I can say it. I have ZERO coping skills. Basically, I do not cope with any of my emotions. I bottle them up, keep them inside, and let them rot me from within. Then, I self-destruct, gradually get better, and begin the process all over again. This cycle has been moving more rapidly in the past few years, and the self-destruct button has become touchier and more devastating. So, that's not good. I can definitely use some help in this area.
• Self-esteem/Self-worth.  Yeah, I don't have much of either of those. I'd rather see everyone else around me happy, than make someone unhappy so that I can be happy. And I'm not happy if someone else is unhappy. Therefore, I'm never happy. Does that mean I'm insatiable? I'm not sure. But it does mean that I have a warped sense of self-value. I need to be capable of being happy with myself and by myself, cause I never am. 
• I need to know who I am.  Not who I am to other people, but who I am at the core. I can ask people over and over again what they see/value in me, but I can't see what they see. My mom, Stacia, Robin, Shawna... They all know who I am better than I do. That's not right. It's hard to find focus on anything in life when I haven't the slightest clue who I am. And by what definition should I adhere? Am I the sum of my experiences? The sum of my perceptions? The sum of my perceived experiences? A jumbled, chemical mess? We could REALLY delve into all of the different schools of psychoanalytical thought to try and sort me out, but in the end, there would be at least 8 differing perspectives on exactly HOW I could even go about finding out who I am. Yeah, this could be a long, winding, convoluted process. But, it should be entertaining for the on-lookers.

I believe that if I work on the above issues, many of my problems would be resolved.  Who knows? I might not even require (or feel the need for) so many medications/interventions/etc.

Question 4: How can you make the most of this experience?
Well, for starters, I need to start listening more receptively.  Don't get me wrong, I am great at listening and sympathizing, but I have a problem applying what I hear to an affective, positive learning experience. A lot of times, I will internalize OTHER people's emotions and problems and allow them to add to the burdens I already carry...(*That reminds me of a story I just read for my comp and lit class... but that's another story for another time... although, it can be useful in this group)...Anyway, carrying other people's burdens isn't healthy. So, step one.. Learn to let go of other people's problems. Step two... Learn to let go of mine.  Secondly, I need to learn to recognize when I'm trying to dominate the group so that I feel more in control of the situation. This isn't good, either, and I may come off looking like I think I know more than the therapist, which I know I don't. After I learn those cues, I need to learn to stop myself so that I can (hopefully) go about being receptive without internalization.

Has anyone noticed that I use a lot of circular reasoning and Socratic methodology in my thought processes? Could this be part of the problem at the core? If so, we have a more serious project on our hands. Changing my way of THINKING will be super-de-dooper difficult, especially because I am extremely resistant to that idea.

Yeah... Going back on my word again.

Screw the consequences!

I'm burning that CD for Serena.

She obviously doesn't give to two shits out of a rat's ass how she affects people, so why should I care how I affect her?

I'm tired of it.
Tired of it all.
I thought sleeping on this would make me feel better.
Instead of waking in a better mood, I find my mood tweaked, altered slightly, but enough to focus it into one singular thought:

I'm pissed.

How dare you say that my behavior's unacceptable? So condescending, unnecessarily critical.

The tears are gone, replaced by rage. The guilt-ridden sorrow has been pushed out by angry indignation.

I'm not gonna cry

I'm not gonna cry

I'm not gonna shed no tears

I'm not gonna cry

This is not the time

'Cause you're not worth my tears.

You are supposed to be my big sister, supposed to be helping me.

I love you

I hate you

I can't get around you

I'm so done.

I just can't take anymore, this life of solitude

I guess that I'm out the door and that I'm done with you.

Dear Mom.

For whatever reason, you aren't super touchy-feely the way most women tend to be.  I'm sure if you wanted me to know those reasons, you'd have told me.  It doesn't matter to me.  I just had to add a little message on here after the previous post to let you know that you are my rock.  I know that no matter what I say, or how I feel, you love me, you support me, you understand, you don't jump to conclusions.  You are level-headed with a heart of gold.  There are so many ways I wouldn't be here if not for you.  You can never know.  I would not have made it this far if you weren't there to listen to me without judgement, to affirm my feelings and call me on the bullshit.  To let me know that what I'm feeling is ok, and normal, and sometimes shared by others involved.

I love you.

Knowing all the things above, and that you'd read this in the morning, kept me alive tonight.