Lesson Learned - Coming Clean With Myself

So there’s a sort of confession that has been on my lips lately. More of a frustration I guess. But man, Middle Boy’s has been irritating me so horridly. It’s horrible of me, isn’t it? I’ve been beating myself up for days now. The thought has disgusted me and all I can think of myself was “You’re such a horrible person for thinking that Crys!”

We’ll I’ve made a discovery today that has given me new perspective. (This is probably why I’m blogging about this today.) It has not only helped ease the pain of guilt and disgust, but it has helped me rethink the situation. And I’m hoping that by sharing this that it will be able to help ease another stepmom's mind that is in this situation. Because from reading other stepmom blogs I know that I’m not alone and that I cannot possible be the only one that has/is experiencing this.

To shed some light, Middle Boy has been oh so irritating. He bosses his brothers around, he’s been oh so rude, and as of the last two or so weeks his listening skills have been out the window. It’s like he sits there and listens, says “yeah, Whatever!” and then goes and does whatever it was he was just told not to do. It got to the point where he’s permanently been on my list for days. It’s gotten to the point where I just plain felt feelings of dislike toward him. It’s been a “where the hell is my stepmom shot glass/glass of wine” experience. And quite frankly I was so completely over it as of this week. As of this week I was pushed past my limit, I had no tolerance for it and I sure as hell wanted to create a holster belt for my wine glass and some mini wine bottles so that I could keep it on me at all times for a glass of “Oh lord please help ease my nerves” on demand.

And everything mentioned in the above explanation has caused me all those feelings in the very first paragraph. It’s like “How dare I think that!” “How dare I feel that?” It has been self-imposed ickyness beyond all belief. And today, I didn’t want to feel it anymore. There had to be something out there that could help me. And I found it.

I read the article “Parenting and step parenting: Is there a difference?” by Lylah M. Alphonse. What made the difference is this passage:

"On the one hand, I see where that particular tidbit of single-mom advice is coming from: Society, for the most part, tends to assume that no one who comes along later could possibly love a child the way the biological parent must, that a genetic link is required in order to be a "real" parent. (Adoptive parents have a whole other set of issues to contend with, but since the biological parent often is not in the picture, that makes parenting different -- "easier" or "more real" -- for some, or so I've been told/warned).

On the other hand, I think it's a case of semantics. Just because the love isn't the same doesn't mean the feelings and the level of commitment isn't as deep."

I’ve been secretly beating myself up for feeling these things because of Jane’s actions. I always find myself thinking “How could a mother cause this pain to her own children and continue to cause all this pain to her own children?” I know that I can’t possibly love them the same way that Jane and my fiancé love them. That specific maternal instinct and bond just isn't there. But I do love them. And my latest frustrations and thoughts on Middle Boy’s behaviors have been in conflict with my love for him as my stepchild. And with that I began to doubt myself. I practically put myself right up there on the shelf next to Jane as most disappointing and disgusting mother ever.

I couldn’t grasp how I could genuinely love and care for a child, and yet have this disgust and dislike for the same child. The conflict of love and dislike was so mind numbing. It’s all so confusing, this instant mom thing. And none of the books can ever prepare you for the emotional roller coaster you’re going to ride on.

Back on topic, I realized that I had been viewing it all wrong. You see the mantras that I had been trying to console and reason with myself was “He’s just a child. He needs love. Just have patience” and “He’ll outgrow this. He was never expected to be polite and to courteous of others before. This is testing and backlash from what has happened to him.” I’ll tell you what – I think my mantra is quite possibly correct … however it’s not the correct way to view it.

My new mantra has both soothed my soul and helped me step out of the box and rethink. My new mantra is “It is the behavior that I dislike … It is not the child that I dislike.”

That is the light bulb that just went on in my head. It is the calming and healing feeling that has consumed me, and I don’t feel like such a horrible disgusting person anymore. And now I think that I’m more ready to deal with Middle Boy when he acts out (or any of the boys) with this new perspective.

And the main lesson that I’ve learned form this experience is that in this new lifestyle I have to be honest with myself. Even if that honestly makes me feel icky and horrible I have to be honest with myself and look at it straight in the eye. Because if I am honest then I’ll be able to address the issue and better find a solution or a new way of approaching it. Because by not being honest with myself and my feelings I’m only hiding it under false excuses and avoiding what’s really going on. And that doesn’t help anyone.

A Confession of Loneliness

"Peyton: Is it me? Am I the reason people always leave? Am I the reason all these things keep happening to me? Maybe I'm just destined to be alone.
Lucas: It's not you, and you're not alone. But eventually you're going to have to be.
Peyton: No, you're right. I can do it."
-Where Did You Sleep Last Night, One Tree Hill

Loneliness....

Loneliness is something I have lived. I’ve felt alone when I shut everyone else out while I gave into and then fought my eating disorder. I’ve felt alone when I moved to Michigan and found myself miles and miles away from my home. I’ve felt alone when I was in Oregon and fought another battle of abuse. I’ve felt alone when I moved back to Southern California and felt out of place. All these times I've felt alone was because I refused to let anyone else in. I felt alone because I put up a wall of pure steel and ice all around me. I dated guys and made great friends, and still felt like I had to protect myself.

Then my fiancé and I found each other again. It was like I had waited a lifetime to finally feel the love and trust and compassion that I feel now. It was like a warm flame that melted me from the inside out. It was like a warm relaxing bath that engulfed my soul and put me at ease. And it wasn’t that I felt all alone anymore, but for the first time it felt that I didn’t have to protect myself from someone. And I let him in.

And now, now I feel a different kind of loneliness. I don’t feel like I have to live this new life alone. I don’t necessarily feel out of place – and yet I do.

This loneliness sucks. I feel it whenever my fiancé goes to scoop up one of the boys. I feel it when we visit with family members on his side. I feel like I stick out. I feel like I belong in a Sesame Street segment of “Which one of these things is not like the others? Which of these doesn’t belong?” And it’s not that I don’t belong, I do. I know I do. But I still feel like I don’t. I don’t quite know how to explain this loneliness.

I’ve tried to talk about it to my fiancé. I tell him I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. I feel like I don’t blend in. I feel like I’m the damn live-in nanny. I hate this feeling, and no matter what I’ve tried I can’t shake it. It’s kept me up late at night at times. And I truly know that yes, it takes time. But I still can’t help but wonder if I will ever feel like I fit in with this family.

I do all this reading that focuses on the children’s lives, how dismantled and traumatic and raw a divorce is for them. And it’s true. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve never experienced it, and no, I can never understand what it’s like to be a child of divorce. But I've seen it. I've been sensitive and aware to it.

I think I feel like I don’t fit in because I literally was not a part of making this family. I wasn’t here from the start. My life feels dismantled, torn apart and raw. I feel like I'm being forced to experience divorce (even though I know I had a choice in whether to get into this relationship or not). I guess it comes back to the whole "I thought I knew what I was getting into but I really had no idea" realization of every stepmom's experience I've read about.

It’s like when I was little and I had all the Care Bears in my collection – except for Love-a-Lot bear. My Grandma made me a Love-a-Lot. And she belonged, she completed the Care Bear family, but she stuck out. She stuck out in a special way, but just by looking at her you knew that she was not from the same line as the other Care Bears. That’s the best way that I can explain it, describe it and make sense of it.

I remind myself, daily, that life is rushing at me at a rapid pace right now. I remind myself that eventually it has to slow down. And that I’m not alone even though I feel like I am at times.

Feeling Pretty Guilty

I’ve been feeling pretty guilty the last couple of days. The boys are all at Jane’s right now. My fiancé dropped them off on Friday and will pick them up again Wednesday late afternoon. The apartment is pretty quiet. The cats are pretty calm, in fact, they look so bored sometimes because they’re not running away from children that I don’t think they know just quite what to do. I haven’t had to sit down and remind Younger Boy, “You chew your food, and swallow your food before you shove more food in your mouth.” Hell, I didn’t even have to make lunches, try to find something to keep Middle Boy busy so that he wouldn’t talk my ear off or search for Older Boy’s ever missing belt.

And I really feel kind of pretty guilty because I’ve really kind of been enjoying it. It's like a whole new type of self-imposed ickyness that I'm dealing with.

Now don’t get me wrong, I miss those little stinkers like crazy. But it’s just kind of nice to have a break from being an instant mom. It’s rather nice to be able sit and work without having a little voice talking to me from across the room. It’s kind of nice that I can make dinner, whatever I want without having to figure out how to make it kid-friendly, and that we can eat dinner without any fits or sighs or pouting.

I especially felt like a major bitch this morning when my fiancé mentioned how he’s starting to miss taking care of them. And frankly, as much as I miss them, I’m not feeling that need to take care of anyone just yet, although, I did feel the need to make my future hubby a lunch so that he would have something to eat on his route today.

It’s only been a couple of months and this is truly the longest that we’ve had to ourselves. And it’s kind of nice.

And I know that the minute they come running in to give me a hug I’ll get hit with that wave of “I missed you so much and I’m so glad you’re home” which will promptly be followed by some wave of frustrated anger when one of the boys forgets where he’s at and starts to throw a fit, or scream instead of use his words, or some other nonsense ridiculous tactic they use on Jane to get their way. And then I’ll be ever so glad that their home and excited for them to open their stockings and gifts.

But for right now, it’s really kind of nice, and damn do I ever feel like a bad person for enjoying a little room to breath.

Self-Imposed Ickyness - Pressure To Not Fail

I absolutely adore my boyfriend’s family. It’s funny, since we dated in 7th grade I had some sort of view of them. I played softball on a team against the one that one of his sisters was on and his dad coached. I also was fairly intimidated by his mom who was on the same side as mine when it came to our first date to the movie theater. They very much insisted that we go on a group activity instead of just us two on a date. (Which I understand now, but as a 7th grade girl it was rather inconvenient to go and find friends that could go that I didn’t mind tagging along.) Then I moved and there is was a big gap, and now I have a completely different perspective of them.

We have family dinners with his two sisters and their families often. And I’ll talk to his mom on the phone now and then. And his dad and I are the only ones in the family that drink coffee… needless to say, I love being a part of his family now.

The thing though is that I feel a pressure whenever I’m with them. I don’t necessarily think that they’re trying to put it on me. I truly think that this pressure is self applied, but the fact is that I feel it. As said in a past post (The Vodka On Top Of The Fridge) I feel like such an outsider because of how I’ve lived my life and how they’ve lived theirs, but I feel this pressure that I have to prove that I’m fit to be a good parent, that I am a good parent to the boys to them. This pressure to prove that I’m fit to be a future good wife, that I am a good partner to their brother. I feel like they’re putting me side-by-side with Jane and comparing us, and damn, of all the people you’re going to compare me to, I really dislike, with a fierce passion, being compared to her.

I don’t usually ask details of life before me (unless its something that I need background info on, like how have you guys done “this” or “that” before). But his family throws them out now and then. Usually it’s starts with praise for me (usually from his mother) or a comment about how much better, how well, or how good the way things are run/handled concerning the boys are now. Then it's followed with some detail about how she did it (and it always disappoints me to hear how not great or selfish she is.) And trust me, it is so nice to get the pat on the back, but that being compared to Jane thing again … it just feels so slimy and uncomfortable.

It’s just I feel spotlighted sometimes, that now that I’ve been acknowledged that I’m doing so well, or so much better than Jane ever did, that I have to make sure that I don’t mess up, that I don’t slip. (It must be that hidden need to be perfect and the best at everything I do. Damn that impulse! That will be a future post.)

Am I making sense here? I’m not sure if I am, but it’s one of those icky and weird feelings that I feel that I don’t think I’ve quite figured completely out yet. Much less one I don’t know will ever go away, but there’s got to be a way to deal with it … To thin out the thickness of it.

I feel like the student that is being pressured by his parents to get straight A’s. Except their not saying “You had better be a good mom/partner or else…” I feel like my actions and how I deal with things, and the things I tell them are looked at and being compared (possibly) to what/how Jane used to do it. And I’m pretty sure I already mentioned this but I sure as hell don’t like being compared to Jane by anyone (although I know that really there is no way around it.)

As I said, it’s self applied, but I hate the feeling of it. And it’s just yet, another challenge (of self-imposed ickyness) that I need to work on balancing out.

But, I don’t let this stop me from hanging out with them and having a good time.