I've been thinking about this subject even more than usual, recently. A young couple of my close acquaintance has recently welcomed a baby; another young friend recently lost a parent; and the news is full of children losing their parents to drug overdoses. It all makes me wonder...
Where is the line? When is it selfish and wrong to do things for ourselves, and when is it right? I get that there's no excuse to overuse addictive drugs. I get that everybody makes mistakes. But how does a typical parent know that he or she is doing the right things? Where is the line? Is it okay to drink two beers, but not three? Is it okay to drive 5 miles above the posted speed, but not 10? How do we help every parent do "their" best for their children? How do we rise above being a disappointment to our children?
So what about me? Am I doing it right? My parenting style is "benevolent neglect" (a phrase I found online somewhere and immediately appropriated). I provide my kids with health and safety, and let them experiment within those boundaries as they like. One kid has gone deeply tech; one kid is a health food and yoga junkie. Will there be fallout some day? Will the techie wish I'd made him stay in piano lessons? Will the foodie be sorry I didn't make her continue in sports? Will those decisions, or any of hundreds of others, be THE THING that causes one or both of them to fail at a crucial moment?
For six months now, I've been sitting at home, trolling the Internet for a new job. I'm also back in college, and trying hard to do projects at home while I have time. But what really worries me is the impression my kids have of me. Are they secretly concerned that I'm never going to get a job? Do they think I must have been a bad employee at my last job (of 21+ years) since I've had such trouble finding a new one? There have certainly been days when I've wondered if they'd be better off without me. Actually, that's a thought I have frequently. I know I cannot act on that thought, but it sure is tempting sometimes. I just hope that, at least eventually, they'll realize that I really put effort into finding a job, regardless of my success at being offered one. Because, if there's one thing I never want any kid to feel, it's disappointment in his or her parent.
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
Saturday, August 6, 2016
Well, That Took A While...
It has been four years since I wrote my first blog post. I'm not sure why, except to use the generic catch-all - I've been busy.
Over the last four years, my divorce has been finalized, My Beauty has completed a year of college, and My Beast has finished 10th grade. We've adopted or otherwise come to be the caretakers of six cats, five of whom still live with us (one moved in with a neighbor). We still have our Cockapoo, Phantom, named for Danny Phantom of Nickelodeon, not for the opera. I've become the sole owner of the home in which the kids, animals, and I live. And I have a bunch of other "kids" - met through my children, and spiritually adopted.
For 21+ years, I had a job I enjoyed, working for a boss I adored. I still adore him, but he retired, and I'm unemployed. It is difficult to find a new job after so long. I'm either over-qualified, or I don't have a four year degree. So, I've gone back to college, and that keeps me reasonably occupied while I continue my job search.
But what I really want to talk about is THE SLIDE. I have, since the day I found out that my job was ending, felt like I'm standing at the top of it, on a narrow platform that isn't completely stable. It lists; trembles. It would be so easy to go down that slide, and my struggling psyche wants to take that ride. But the slide is long, and greased. I don't know that I'll be able to return. I know that going down that slide will take me away from everything that matters to me. My kids and animals give me a reason to resist. I have to make sure they have what they need, so I have to stay on the platform.
But the slide is so tempting. At the bottom there are no responsibilities. I can just sleep. No more trying to find an employer who will appreciate my abilities; no more hiding the hurt from a failed marriage. Just no more.
Over the last four years, my divorce has been finalized, My Beauty has completed a year of college, and My Beast has finished 10th grade. We've adopted or otherwise come to be the caretakers of six cats, five of whom still live with us (one moved in with a neighbor). We still have our Cockapoo, Phantom, named for Danny Phantom of Nickelodeon, not for the opera. I've become the sole owner of the home in which the kids, animals, and I live. And I have a bunch of other "kids" - met through my children, and spiritually adopted.
For 21+ years, I had a job I enjoyed, working for a boss I adored. I still adore him, but he retired, and I'm unemployed. It is difficult to find a new job after so long. I'm either over-qualified, or I don't have a four year degree. So, I've gone back to college, and that keeps me reasonably occupied while I continue my job search.
But what I really want to talk about is THE SLIDE. I have, since the day I found out that my job was ending, felt like I'm standing at the top of it, on a narrow platform that isn't completely stable. It lists; trembles. It would be so easy to go down that slide, and my struggling psyche wants to take that ride. But the slide is long, and greased. I don't know that I'll be able to return. I know that going down that slide will take me away from everything that matters to me. My kids and animals give me a reason to resist. I have to make sure they have what they need, so I have to stay on the platform.
But the slide is so tempting. At the bottom there are no responsibilities. I can just sleep. No more trying to find an employer who will appreciate my abilities; no more hiding the hurt from a failed marriage. Just no more.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Genesis
This will be a challenge. I'm left-handed and a Pisces - I therefore have very little grasp of the mortal plane, preferring to live in the Ethereal as much as possible. I've always been a dreamer, but an early introduction to alcoholism, verbal abuse, and extremely incompatible parents forced me down to earth.
What is the point of this blog? To try, probably in vain, to get my thoughts in order as I go through my own divorce after 18+ years of marriage.
I think I entered into marriage very grounded. He had been married before and had two daughters I adored. I saw what he went through with visitations, child support, etc. and I thought I had a good handle on how things would go. I also knew him from work and his excellent reputation as a hard worker, innovator, troubleshooter, and problem solver was to be admired. We married after exactly two years of dating.
The first few years of marriage were difficult. Not between us, but because of issues that arose with the stepchildren. One of them decided to have nothing to do with us, and the other was with us as often as possible. Repeated visits to court were required because of the ex's refusal to use in-network doctors and the consequential gigantic medical bills for the child who refused him. I took to raising the other child with as much love and attention as she would allow, and she blossomed into a lovely young lady. I was, and still am, so proud of what she accomplished. Would I have done things the same way she has? Heck, no! But she is who she is, and I've never been that brave.
Eventually, after miscarriages and other medical issues, we had Beauty. I will paraphrase Rosie O'Donnell (because I cannot find the quote) who effectively said that becoming a mother kicks open a door in your heart that you didn't even know was there. My world was flooded with love for my baby girl, but also for her older sister who loved her as well. Watching the older with the younger was the loveliest thing I'd ever witnessed.
In the marriage, things were still going okay. He was getting his degree, so I was doing the lion's share of the parenting, both of the infant and of the teen. I was still working full time, doing all the shopping and cooking, all the trips to the orthodontist and pediatrician, the school meetings, the school plays. I knew things would equalize again once the degree was achieved.
Two years later, my Beast came along. My heart couldn't possibly be any more full. By then, the teen had decided the grass was greener at her mother's house, and had moved back there and begun a steady decline. Eventually, back she came, and up she rose. Meanwhile, my babies were growing and doing something new every day, and they were amazing to me.
He got his degree. I threw him a party. We didn't equalize.
Suddenly, I was being told what I could do differently; what I was doing wrong; why I was not good enough. I could look at my babies and see that they were flourishing, bright, interested in the world around them. My boss was happy with me. My house, while never entirely tidy, was always clean and healthy for us. What WAS I doing wrong, I wondered?
But I was going to be married forever. I was not going to fail. I buried my feelings of injustice under layers of trying harder, doing better, making him happy.
What is the point of this blog? To try, probably in vain, to get my thoughts in order as I go through my own divorce after 18+ years of marriage.
I think I entered into marriage very grounded. He had been married before and had two daughters I adored. I saw what he went through with visitations, child support, etc. and I thought I had a good handle on how things would go. I also knew him from work and his excellent reputation as a hard worker, innovator, troubleshooter, and problem solver was to be admired. We married after exactly two years of dating.
The first few years of marriage were difficult. Not between us, but because of issues that arose with the stepchildren. One of them decided to have nothing to do with us, and the other was with us as often as possible. Repeated visits to court were required because of the ex's refusal to use in-network doctors and the consequential gigantic medical bills for the child who refused him. I took to raising the other child with as much love and attention as she would allow, and she blossomed into a lovely young lady. I was, and still am, so proud of what she accomplished. Would I have done things the same way she has? Heck, no! But she is who she is, and I've never been that brave.
Eventually, after miscarriages and other medical issues, we had Beauty. I will paraphrase Rosie O'Donnell (because I cannot find the quote) who effectively said that becoming a mother kicks open a door in your heart that you didn't even know was there. My world was flooded with love for my baby girl, but also for her older sister who loved her as well. Watching the older with the younger was the loveliest thing I'd ever witnessed.
In the marriage, things were still going okay. He was getting his degree, so I was doing the lion's share of the parenting, both of the infant and of the teen. I was still working full time, doing all the shopping and cooking, all the trips to the orthodontist and pediatrician, the school meetings, the school plays. I knew things would equalize again once the degree was achieved.
Two years later, my Beast came along. My heart couldn't possibly be any more full. By then, the teen had decided the grass was greener at her mother's house, and had moved back there and begun a steady decline. Eventually, back she came, and up she rose. Meanwhile, my babies were growing and doing something new every day, and they were amazing to me.
He got his degree. I threw him a party. We didn't equalize.
Suddenly, I was being told what I could do differently; what I was doing wrong; why I was not good enough. I could look at my babies and see that they were flourishing, bright, interested in the world around them. My boss was happy with me. My house, while never entirely tidy, was always clean and healthy for us. What WAS I doing wrong, I wondered?
But I was going to be married forever. I was not going to fail. I buried my feelings of injustice under layers of trying harder, doing better, making him happy.
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