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Breakups

I intended to post about my holiday time with my sons and Sweet Greg, but this IG post led me down this well-beaten path.  I guess I am still deep into proving to myself that my choice to respect and preserve my serenity is sane and prudent.  And off I go, when will I finish proving?  I guess I will know when I know and I will be done when I am done–def the result of having been erased one too many times.

My sister’s hosting a gathering of my MOTHER, my ex, his sister, and my children made some shit pretty clear. But only to me, apparently. Before recovery, I would’ve thought this sort of thing illuminated my unworthiness. With recovery, I know better. Best part, I am accused of being the one who opted out of the family. I only opted out of continued betrayal, shaming and generally being spoken of and treated poorly.  Oh and name calling. Kthanksbye.   The continued gatherings without me which widened the gaps, confirm my suspicion that I am not, in their opinions, worthy of better treatment.  For me it confirmed that kind people do kind shit and others do other shit.  Their behavior makes their statement loud and clear.   My boundary around proximity to hurtful people also makes a statement-which I feel good about.  Hate the options, but it is what it is.  Fortunately, I am again managing to co-parent  with my ex for the sake of our children.  My relationship with him is not a choice but a fact.  I mean it is a choice, for my children, I choose to accept his bullshit and his genuine inability to form wholesome connections that benefit our children.  The triangulation with my sister makes my sons feel more divided than connected, but their father cannot concern himself with that.  And even if he can, fukkit, I must and will do right by our young sons.  One of us must model doing hard things.  We can do hard things.  Working shit out, being transparent, being direct and kind are things that must be modeled for them, as well as tolerating hurtful behavior only when required.  Doing hard things is wholesome and badass.  Doing shitty things is ……….for shitty thing doers.  Right?  

Me:  Please let’s work things out.

Her:  What things?

Me:  Lists things.

Her:  Why must you rehash and cause drama—invites my ex and his family to gather in her home.

Note:  My sister and my ex–Not based on historical relationship—this relationship built at my expense, originating post divorce.  This is vile? Right, in which communities and societies do people do this?  Oh, wait.  Think I know.  The family disease–the gift that keeps on giving.  The legacy of intergenerational abuse and mental health issues.   Who would not feel crazed and broken by this.  Oh again,  I know—bad abuse getters-totally owning it.  I suck as an abuse getter, though decades of practice should make that less true.  Fail!  

I am a work in progress, unlearning some very bad shit, as a descendant from long lines of other type–No direct communication. Ever. Just gossip,retaliation, and/or ghosting over displeasure. Elevating only those already lifted who might be useful to know.

Published by Magda Gee

I am in a program of recovery for those whose lives have been affected by someone else's drinking, drug use, mental illness. I am newly learning faith, hope, and courage, practices not witnessed by me, in my childhood, with my family. Sadly, No Contact, as a last resort, is how I keep safe from diminishing words and actions directed at me. I think I have listened for the last time to how I deserve mistreatment. By holding out for something more wholesome and loving, I have been both banished and demanded to return. I prefer serenity to proximity. I will continue with my program and faith in the best possible outcome, so long as I do my part-- to stalk GOD as if my life depends on it.