So, Oh-my-god, I Have Kids.

Also known as: it's all my fault or oh my god, I think it's all my fault

My daily writings have never been about my kids. Anyone following this blog (not that they do) would maybe have a vague sense that I have children along the journey of  my dissolving marriage and transition into age-gapped relationship with a co worker.

I do, in fact, have children. Two of them. Females that are now young women and are nearly fully independent.

The reason they never frequented pages such as these? Probably because, up and until now, I Mom'd like a mo-fo'. I come to this place to search for the answers to questions I have. Answers that alluded me. As a mom, answers didn't allude me. They came to me like a I was a savant: relationship challenged and  mom genius.

For some reason, once they're out in the world as individuals and they're asking me (because we created such a good bond and I was good at advice) life decision things as if their lives depend on getting it right, right now, I panic along with them.

Inside voice: Oh my god, I don't know, do you want to go to school for that? School is a lot of money. Why don't you just work for a while? Oh wait, working and suck hole customer service jobs causes you social anxiety to a point of panic - and you had those traumatic experiences and I brought you up with dad that was unavailable and can't give you love and then I let you lean on me too much - I made your decisions - shit, I fucked you up. Ummmmmmm, I don't know? What do you want to do? Shit, you don't know either? Ummm, maybe we should go see a tea leaf reader? The latter because, you know, you're a witchy, earthy, gypsy mom who's smart AF and digs science but also believes in spiritual woo woo.

And the tea leaf reader tells them exactly what they want to hear, but then it doesn't happen quite like that or it doesn't happen soon enough and a black hole forms in the middle of their soul, into which they begin to sink.

And it's all.your.fault. Way to go, Mom! 😒

I think the only one thing true that I told my youngest (current experiencer of the pre life crisis), and finally told her (after many pep talks looking for the solution that would immediately set her free!) was that, "I think this is your battle. I can't fix this one. All I can do is be here to help, offer words to help you build strength and give you tools along the way. I will always be here, coaching, supporting, but the actual fight is inside you - so I can't fight this one for you."

And it fucking sucks. That is the truth that revealed itself to me. Outside of being there for her (as I can, because, you might recall - I ABANDONED MY 18 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER TO LIVE WITH HER DAD SO I COULD MOVE AN HOUR-AND-A- HALF AWAY FOR WORK, AND YES! LOVE. ugh. it really is all.my.fault.

Anyways, outside of being there for her (physically, 2 days a week) there is nothing else I can do. This is out of my control.

Oh, there it is. Did someone just call Bingo?

My eyes are starting to see (except for the massive influx of guilt that tells me to quit my job and move back, because, really, that's the least I could do), this is part of her journey, not mine. It is my job to 1) let go 2) listen 3) support her decisions without advice.

Tru Dat

I'm in a weird place of too much introspection. Yes, that's what this is. Way too much introspection.

Likely because I am perceiving cross roads that come with the threat of life altering decisions. I do not want those feelings right now.

Should I live with the Greek?
What will that do to us?
Do I want that?
Do I really love him that much?
What does that much really mean?
Could it mean something simpler than I am thinking?
What do I want?

Do I really like this job?
Why are these people screaming at me?
Why am I letting them?
Am I happy here still?
Do I yearn for something more inline with my heart?
I think I want what I feel a yearning for - but is that real? Or fantasy?

Can I continue be the mother I think, thought I am/was with this distance?
Should I fuck everything there and move back there?
Really? Should I?

It's not the time for these decisions.

Now is simply the time to allow roads to effortlessly show themselves to me. I have no other tasks but to allow simplicity and beauty.

I surrender to the truth.

Roar.

A billion or so years ago, I had a blog called Mantramine. It was cool, I guess, if you like that sorta thing. If you were to look now, you would see its remains. It looks like shit. Like a ghost city's amusement park - the ferris wheel standing like a tall, lost child - abandoned.

I stripped it of its original glory and replaced it with meandering content that just reeks of inept searching.

All that to say, I think I want to start a podcast.

Are you laughing? You probably should be.

I think I'll call it Roar? Ugh, god, maybe not. That didn't sound so stupid in my head. Fine, whatever, I might steal DB&B. Phew, that feels much better.

So, yeah, I gotta move. It's time.

I was with the kid's dad today, the ffl, you know, the one I left, we were talking, catching up and I told him I think I have about 2 years left at my current job before I'll want to move on. And he said "What? Really?"

And I'll just cut to the chase here - I said, YEAH - BECAUSE I'M AMBITIOUS, not because I can't stay still.

It's true, all my working life I've been looking for the next up, but not because I can't commit. Because I WANNA KEEP GOING. Apparently in women (who aren't already tycoons and/or Martha Stewart) this appears to be lack of commitment or focus. In men, when they exhibit this early on, it's called... wait for it...

AMBITION

I mean, whatever, it probably looks less like ambition for me because it's been a really slow and made of incrementally small steps. I'll give him that. He just hasn't picked up on my slow-mo ninja life moves.

Should I find myself there, I imagine it will start a lot like that first blog did - with a strong desire to speak and share one-day-at-a-time.

I need to break free.

cUkf

I broke, or flipped, or fell, or tripped. I feel. I feel stuff.

I feel like I might have made a parenting misstep by leaving my 18 year old to live with her dad while I moved an hour away (fine, an hour and a half) for work. I feel guilt.

I, somewhat, realize that that reads pretty weak, but that doesn't shake the feeling. If she feels in her heart that I left her alone too soon - then I've broken my heart.

I feel sick to my stomach that my older sister is struggling so hard right now with alcohol. She's dragging the bottom of the family poverty line and her disease is oozing from her pores. I feel sick that she and her eleven year old need me.

I feel sick that my eighteen year old needs me.

I feel sick that the Greek wants me.

I hate that Christmas demands a picturesque family - even if it's inauthentic, forced,  and 9 months away - it makes me feel sick.

I think I have eczema fairing up on my hands. I've never had it before, and I think it's from the intensity and stress of work. I'm allowing them to pound and wring everything out of me because here, in this forum, I don't know better - yet.

It's March. Spring is beginning. Maybe that will help.

It feels like I can't breathe. It's likely because I'm holding my breath. I keep catching myself thinking, "Oh hey, I'm not taking breaths" while the pulse in my stomach bleats strong enough that I start feeling it in my chest.

I'm not ready for any of this. I need to pray.  I want to surrender. I want to be free, comfortable, and even.