naive

Why do I remain optimistic?  Why do I keep insisting to look on the bright side?  Why do I keep believing that good will somehow prevail and that someone in a position that matters will actually give a shit about these kids and what they are going through?

Lee's ex won the custody mediation.  Because her father is a retired state cop and is buddies with the first judge, he ruled that the case wasn't even a relocation because she moved before there was a custody order in place.  Too bad the law doesn't say that.  It's not ambiguous AT ALL.

It must be nice to be above the law and do whatever you want, continuing to hurt your children in so many ways, and just trip through life oblivious to anything but your own selfish desire to get revenge.  Who cares about the kids?  If their own mother doesn't, why should anyone else?  And the people who actually do, can't do a damned thing about it.

I am physically sick about this.  Sick.

This woman has had her four year old on 4 different psychiatric drugs in as many weeks, claiming that all of his "problems" are his father's fault.  Funny, when he was still here, the psychiatrist said he was a pretty normal four-year-old with some anxiety due to recent big changes in his life.  She wouldn't diagnose anything, she refused to peg him with ADHD, and she never even MENTIONED medication.  The boy has problems now because his mother ripped him from everything he's ever known and moved him 1600 miles from his father and siblings.  His little sister used to laugh and be goofy on Skype. Now she just whines and cries.  She's depressed.  At the age of 3.

I guess the whole point of this post is what the fuck is wrong with me?  Seriously.  Should I just give up?  I'm the one who was so optimistic about the end of my pregnancy, encouraging the other preggo mom's I knew when they would complain of being so uncomfortable.  "It's all worth it!"  "Soon we'll get to hold our babies." "I might be uncomfortable, but I'm more excited to look in my baby's eyes than to just 'get him out of me'!"  And for what?  A few hours with his corpse, while he quickly turned cold, and the marks of death spread over his precious little face, turning his skin blue and his lips black.  He never opened his eyes, so I never looked into them.

I suck at being pessimistic, but I may just have to get used to it.  If life doesn't quit sticking it in my back door.

Dear Fourth Grade Teacher,

     I am so glad that you are my daughter's teacher this year.  Just knowing that you also had a sibling who was stillborn, helps me feel like someone understands her.  I know she often feels as if no one truly does.  That just because we never brought her brother home from the hospital doesn't mean she never had a brother at all.
     People are dismissive of our losses.  They don't understand that a stillborn baby is still a baby.  He was our baby.  Mine and Meadow's, Lennon's, Lee's, Jenna's, Lee IV's, Bella's, Alex's.  He was ours and people's ignorance will not take him away.  But knowing people like you acknowledge him, acknowledge Meadow's loss,  helps heal us a little at a time.
     I, too, feel like Meadow is an old soul.  Speaking with you today made me realize even more how much like her mother that child is.  It's not that I think I am wonderful, but I know she is and every time I learn something about her that other people find wonderful, I feel good about myself.  Maybe I am not so bad after all.  :)  Meadow has such understanding of what it means to be compassionate.  I think a lot of people could learn a thing or two from my amazing daughter.
     Thank you again, for being the perfect person to teach my daughter, and lead her in one of the most difficult years of her little life.

Sincerely,

Meadow's Mom

PS I apologize for getting snot all over the place and blubbering onto your desk during what you probably thought would be a routine Parent-Teacher Conference.

Things I have Learned About Myself

...most of which I don't particularly like, but hey, it's me.  At least I know now, and I can work on them.

-I need approval and praise.
     Okay, maybe I don't NEED them, but I seek them.  I find that when I do something and I don't get recognition, I am much less likely to continue.  Such as my blog....  This is not a cry for readers or comments.  It is simply the truth.  This is why I have not been posting.  Now that I realize this about myself, I will try to post more often.  This is how I am trying to work on this thing about me.  I NEED to write for therapeutic reasons, for me, not for anyone else, and certainly not for approval or support.

-I hate being made to feel as if I am less intelligent than someone or less experienced, green.
     I've been this way since I was small.  Friends would be telling me something new that they learned and I would say, in an adorably exasperated tone (only adorable because I was seven years old), "I KNOW!"  Soon, my friends became exasperated with ME.  "You think you know EVERYTHING!"  Well, no, but at least all the stuff you know....
     I'm still this way, but I've learned to just pretend I don't already know when someone tells me something I do already know.  I suppose telling people things that we've learned makes us feel intelligent, important somehow.  However, there are times when I am not seeking the advice from someone and I am still burdened with the wisdom of others anyway.  This still drives me nuts.  I will handle things in my own way.  If I need advice on how to handle my own grief, something I OWN, I will come to you.  Trust me.

-Fear holds me back.
     Fear of what?  I don't always know.  I am starting to believe it is fear of failure.  I fear failing at everything because if something I do is not perfect in my eyes, I have failed.  If it's not good enough, it's not good AT ALL.  This brings me to my next thing I have learned about myself...

-I am a perfectionist.
     This and the one before directly tie into each other.  I need to start forcing myself to create, write, paint, draw, craft.  These things are all therapeutic for me.  And Lord knows, I NEED therapy.

Thanks for reading, the very few of you.  (I laugh at myself.)

words

I used to write every day.  Sometimes many times a day.  Then life got in the way.  Now death has gotten in the way.  And overwhelming circumstances.  And many things out of my control.  I have started a blog and neglected it for days, weeks, months at a time.  I now apologize to myself and promise to write here, when I can, and not to pressure myself.  I need to be more gentle with Nerissa.

Someday, the beautiful words will return to me.  I still have the beautiful thoughts at times.  I just can't seem to extricate them from my head.  For now, here are some more angry ones.  They are "inspired" by a woman who has said horrible things about and done horrible things to my family.

I will not allow myself to fall further into the depths with you.
My anger towards you, likens me to you the further I sink in.
I no longer accept myself in your oppressive skin.
You are an overbearing, manipulative cocoon, barbed from within.
To escape I must give in.
But I will not give in to you.
I will give in to my self.
To my soul.
For escape comes from within me.
I relinquish this hatred.
This sorrow.
This depression you think you had a hand in.
You do not win anymore.
I realize it has been my doing all along.
I can fight.
I can battle.
I can brawl.
But the war is within me.
You are no longer allowed.