September 19, 2012

C'est la vie


Things have been really great.  The last couple weeks have been awesome.  It’s been such a welcome reprieve.  Tonight, though, we had quite a moment.  Everyone started crying at the same time.  It was so sad.  So fucking sad.  I realized while I was sobbing that I no longer cry ‘for Dave’ at all.  I cry for my babies.  I cry on behalf of them.  I cry because of what he did to them.  Bastard. 

The baby started it, by suddenly declaring that he was sad.  At first I thought he said he was ‘scared’, and was trying to delay going to bed.  Then I realized he was about to cry, and he blurted out in sobs, “I miss Daddy and I want him to come home.”  I broke into a million little pieces.  I gently reminded him that Daddy cannot come home because when you die you can’t ever come back.  He said something like, “Why is he just gonna die again and again and again?”  Then middle darling started crying really hard.  Sobbing that he misses daddy.  I pulled both of them on top of me and we held each other and cried long and hard.  And all my tears were for them.  I can’t cry for him anymore.  I just can’t. 

Big darling was in his room reading, oblivious to the grief ninja’s attack.  This in itself worries me.  He doesn’t cry.  He doesn’t say anything.  It makes me nervous.  The silence is scary.  When I ask questions, he admits to missing Dave and feeling sad, but says he mostly doesn’t think about it.  I asked him about feeling angry towards him, and he says he is angry.  I confess that I am more than a little angry myself.  I tell him it’s ok to be angry.  I tell him that his silence worries me.  Goddamn you Dave, if my kids are fucked up one iota because of you, I will do fucking nothing to you, because that’s what I can do.  Nothing.  You rat fucking bastard.

Someone asked me the other day about whether or not my stepdaughter reads the blog.  If you haven’t read all of the blog, you may not even be aware that Dave has a 17 year old daughter from a previous relationship.  The answer is yes, she does know about the blog.  I do not blog about her because she is not my child.  I don’t have a relationship with her parents, and I wouldn’t want someone blogging about my own kids without my permission, so she is absent from the blog. 

What does she think about me writing about her daddy?  I have no idea.  I don’t write based on what people are going to think about the writing.  If I wrote that way, this would be a really short story and it would be incredibly boring and also not true.  Therapeutic value - zero.  Go read a grief brochure or one of those generic parenting sites if that’s what you want.  That stuff makes my eyes roll back into my head.  BORING.  I get bored easily.  I can be obsessed with something one day, and I’m not kidding not a day later I will drop it like a hot potato.  It takes a lot to hold my interest. 

Sometimes I think about people judging me.  But then I realize something.  If you are judging me, fuck you.  Just fuck you.  It is liberating to not care.  It is liberating to be brutally honest.  I do try not to hurt the feelings of others.  I haven’t been perfect with that part.  Sometimes I’ve been so hurt that I have deliberately lashed out and not cared.  So, I’m an asshole.  The events of the last few years have rendered me incapable of caring about some things.  My survival instincts are so strong, and ever present, because we are always fighting the beast here.  Your day is good, the sun is shining, you are humming along, and out of the dark shadows steps the beast.  He strikes you.  Then hands you your ass.  A couple hours later you are walking in the grocery store.  You are not the same as the people around you.  Most of them didn’t participate in a battle of that magnitude today.  Your emotions are still scrambled.  You are still reeling from the pain.  You are still distracted, tired, annoyed, confused, sad, angry, guilty.  Everyone else is just buying groceries.  I want to just buy groceries.  I do.  Sometimes, maybe even I do.  Sometimes I’m not thinking about it.  But mostly I am.  It’s becoming me.  A part of me.  And I can’t rewrite it.  I can’t lose it or kill it or burn it down.  I can only keep fighting it.  Which keeps me in attack mode.  The shrapnel is always flying.  On great days the love pours out of me and I’m invincible.  On mediocre days, the humorous sarcasm protects me.  On shit days, I’m an asshole.  C’est la vie.

20 comments:

  1. I hate that I know exactly how you feel. (((hugs))) ~ Dina

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  2. My heartache's for all of you! I wish you and your babies did not have to deal with this. But I have to say you're a wonderful mother, and care deeply for your children. Hang in there you have a great extended family here and will listen to you and give you encouragement!

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  3. you still amaze me...

    as much as I teared up for your children, you offer up so much strength and resilience that I can't help but be motivated by you. said a little prayer for you all.

    p.s. the e-card was a hilarious touch

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  4. Madwoman, once again thank you for sharing the truth about surviving the suicide of your husband. You are a real hero...the fact that you keep pushing forward AND you allow your kids to feel it all, the grief, sadness, anger, confusion, etc. etc. I am in awe.

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  5. Hi. Just wanted to share a little something. I don't normally read blogs. Your blog is different. Your blog is real. Your words are different. Your words are genuine. My brother died a year ago. He was hit by a drunk driver while riding his bike home from the beach. He was 44. Two weeks later one of my best friends passed away from an illness. She was 44 as well. I hate the zone that death and loss puts you in. I read an article during that miserable mourning period that stuck with me. It stated that time doesn't heal all wounds, it is what you do with your time that heals your wounds. I think you are engaging in that time quite well with your blog. Wishing you, and especially your darlings, the peace and comfort that you deserve.

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  6. You never cease to amaze me. I love the fierceness in your words...and I love that you protect those boys so intently...but mostly, I love that you are where I was and am and always will be (forever and ever amen) when it comes to dealing with the LDLD. And that you are aware so much quicker than I was.
    I worry about the silences with your precious older darling...please watch him closely.
    Keep writing, you have no idea the pride I feel when I read your blog...it's such a validation for me knowing that I am not the only one in the world who wants to dig the shithead up and slap him senseless. Of course I said that with love in my heart and you can't prove I didn't. C'est la vie...right back at ya.

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  7. Wow. Oh wow! What a great page! I found of all places your E-humor card! I love great blogs and am always searching. Have found three I like, now you make number four. After reading at least a hundred. Nothing better than true honest writing that is done well. Thank you for that. I am not anonymous, I don't know any of those other things to choose from. I guess I don't have any. My name is Sandy Boyer. I had tears running down my face as I read this. Thank you for shareing your life. You are amazingly strong and brave. See you on facebook and your blog.

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  8. There is no real healing that takes place. You just get stronger and wiser with each passing day...well played life.

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  9. I'm glad that you just write...not worrying about what others will think about you. You write the truth and that helps MANY people!!!! I hope today is a better day...or even a great day;)

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  10. You can't worry about others judging you, as they have not walked the same path. There is no manuel to deal with what you have endured. Xo

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  11. Thank you! Thank you! After my 28 year old son died 6 years ago, devastation slammed me, too. We go thru the emotions and motions every damn day. Every damn minute. Other people depend on us, so with that in mind, we move forward. I get angry like you and it is so validating to hear others get pissed at the one who died, too. I totally get you are f-n angry and you have every right. It's abundantly obvious you cherish your 'darlings' so just know you have a rooting team behind these words. Go, you! <3

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  12. I know how you feel about the quietness. It is scary. My husband (who, granted, is not a child) lost his father to suicide this year. He is very quiet about it and acts as though it doesn't phase him. It scares me. Hug your kiddos close.

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  13. Grief is something that everyone experiences differently and there is no right or wrong way to express your feelings. Perhaps he cannot find the words to express how he feels - maybe he has come to a point where physically he cannot shed another tear. Just continue to be there for him and love him as only a mom can.

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  14. I've posted before...my oldest was 3 at the time and heard her father in another room hurting himself and attempting to kill himself. I should have called 911 but was afraid as I knew he would get physical with me. Just last week she was asking me why I put a pillow over her face (I did it do she wouldn't see or hear). I cried but her psych says to tell her not the details but the truth of what he was doing-hurting himself so that she is not afraid of what happened and is not afraid to come to me to talk about things. She knows too that my brother hurt himself so bad that he died and she cried and said I don't want dad to die. It hurts!! But she and I are going to be ok. We already are.
    Kudos to you too!!

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  15. You continue to be the best blogger I read. I can relate to your feelings in many ways. Keep going girl...make something wonderful out of all this pain and truth. It inspires others to get better!

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  16. Thank for each one of your posts. I am a struggling with the grieving process-my mother took her life less than a month ago. Your blog has answered questions, made me laugh, made me cry and has allowed me to feel anger just as you feel anger at your husband.

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  17. I've lost family members to murder; it's tragic. It changes the perspective on life. Taking ones own life is something that impacts generations. Good for you for loving your children so much and being bold enough to tell the truth.
    www.saythat--again.com

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  18. As someone who has suffered through the suicide of a.dear family member and the addiction (and long road of recovery ) for her then boyfriend, then fiance, ( same person different relapses and luckily we have no dealt with those demons in about 4 years ) i have to say i have such admiration for you. Keep speaking your mind, getting it out there. Both suicide and addiction are so terribly painful and everyone who has said it is right. You are strong, but strong isn't a big enough word for you. I feel like there might not be one . I found your blog at 3this afternoon and haven't put my phone down except to change the battery so I could continue to read every single post. thanks for the realness !

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  19. I just want to say I think you're amazing and I love your brutal honesty. It reminds me that i am not alone in my struggles. Your honesty about your struggles reminds me I am not the only one as well. I love the fact that your blogs have gotten more positive by the post. You have come such a long way.
    Thank you for your courage!

    - A 20 year old single mom, that hopes to have strength like yours one day.

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  20. I just discovered your blog and I have to say I think you are an amazing, strong woman. I am not sure I could get through what you have been through with my sanity. God Bless!

    http://beautifullychaoticmotherhood.blogspot.com/

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