Poking the Bear.

Right now, about every single muscle in my body is screaming at me, my head feels foggy, my synapses are fried and all I want to do is crawl to my room and go to bed. There is no second shift, no neighbor nearby or relative, just me. And tonight, I tell you, I hate it. I flipping hate it. I picked them up from their father’s house after my meeting at about 8:30pm. They got in the car all wound up and high on fun with dad to down shifting into, “oh yeah, there’s mom, I remember what I was mad about before I went to dads, let’s carry on with that”. So they do. I have a friend in the car with me. Any of my friends allowed to ride in the car with me when I get my kids, is someone I hold near and dear to me, and this was one such friend, so that was ok.

By the time we got home, Jack had Mary Ellen worked up into such a lather that I was afraid a punch was going to be thrown, by Mary Ellen. That is not like her, but as she’s been becoming far more appropriately assertive, I secretly applauded this justified anger. Jack was trying to get her mad, (we call this act, “poking the bear”), and he succeeded. Only this time, she did not take it out on herself in full autistic self-injurious fashion, but she ragefully called him a moron. Middle sister Sara, tried to jump in and mediate. She is pretty much the voice of calm, albeit frustrated, reason, but sometimes, it’s just adding fuel to the fire. Caroline also has a fierce sense of justice and will often take sides as well. Tonight it was different sides. I try to remain calm while striding toward the door to the apartment building, mentally preparing…… no, wait. Who the hell am I kidding? I’m not mentally preparing for anything, I can’t. As much as this has happened over the years, I have to stay loose. Tension going in, can be killer. I’m loose though am almost outside my body watching myself. I should be drawing on all the months of spiritual pod casts I’ve been listening to, pausing before the action, infusing my interaction with love and firmness and hoping to hell this is a teachable moment. For any of us. But alas, I’m not quite evolved enough for that.

So what did we all learn? Not ready to spin it yet. Right now, I’m still reeling a bit. House quiet, kids all in bed, and I am writing it out. During the worst part, when Jack became defiant b/c he wanted to put the fan in his window and blast cold air on himself all night, while the landlord watches the oil level drop, I wanted to cry. He tells me his father wouldn’t make him take the fan out of the window and I block that one with a sure hearted “Yes. He would!!”, and then the final plea on Jack’s part of moving far away from “all you guys”. Finally, the closing, heart-rending scene, is tears. This is when my stomach clutches and I feel almost resentful. Like now this? And that is all of it. He held his ground until the bitter end and he knew he could go no further and then he broke. He is a big kid, and his tears eventually soften my stomach to the point where my heart softens and I can feel his pain. But then again can’t, completely.

My parents stayed married. I have no idea what it’s like to feel so torn, that he seems to think he has to choose to love only one parent, one house, one town, while all that the other parent represents, at that moment, is crap. I think that’s what it is for him. Concrete. This soundly breaks me. Full on. The knowledge that I chose the divorce, and while I think overall it was the right move for all of us, there is fallout. This is a glimpse of it. The boy who is hormonal and struggles with school, now has the added stress of this mess to sort out in his head. The others too, struggle, in their own ways. After all, it’s not all about me, and divorce is always a tough call.

All written and I can go off to bed. Nothing was resolved. Nothing was broken however, and maybe that’s the teachable moment…..which my politically incorrect knee jerk reaction says, is cliché. I just don’t feel up to saying what I’ve been taught, nor do I want to guess at what we’ve all been taught in the previous scenario. I’m still riding this wave that it is right now, with my kids. Or, at least we’re all having our own experience riding this wave, on the same boat. There will always be waves. That’s how it is out on the ocean of life.

About Jill M. Woodworth

Mother of 5. Reigning in the chaos of life with my self expressive blogs. Passionate about alternative addiction recovery and life thriving ideas, embracing life on a day to day basis and raising my children, 3 with TSC. I am an avid runner, and use running and meditation daily to cope with life. Running Boston 2016!!! #IAMTSC
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