I didn’t even realize today was the first Wednesday, or Wednesday at all, until I just happened to check my site and find I had comments on an old post which could only be coming from some of the IWSG folks. I’m so sorry for not having something new up and ready, and thank you all so much who stopped by and left comments anyway. You are MUCH appreciated.
The honest truth is, I’ve had nothing for three weeks. And it’s not totally the world crisis that’s put me where I am, although that has me a bit concerned but probably not in the same ways most of the world is. Being married to a man who spent thirty years in the military sort of lends to a different view of the world that most might have. So, while I forgot it was Wednesday, I actually did remember what today is. Today is April 1, April Fool’s Day. It’s also my son’s thirtieth birthday. How could I forget that, right?
This should be a happy day. A day to celebrate. But it’s not been. At least not for this momma, because I am currently estranged from the child I gave birth to thirty years ago today. His choice. Not mine. Without too much detail, it boils down to this. His other biological half was abusive, seriously so. Physically and mentally. And, after terrorizing me until my child was a little over a year old, he abandoned us. He never paid a dime of child support, never changed a diaper, never attended a single school function, never read a bedtime story, never walked the floor with a sick child. And I never pursued him for any of that because I felt we were better off not being terrorized and abused than a few measly dollars or insincere acts were worth. I never hid. I never hid my son. He knew where we were and how to contact us. He chose not to. However, almost a year ago, they found each other and now that abusive man is the parent of the year and, after having lied about everything, he convinced my son he should abandon me, too, just like he did thirty years ago. And, without a single second thought, my son did. I have not spoken to him now in almost a year, but not for lack of trying to mend this bridge myself. Again, this rift is his choice, not mine. Today, he’s celebrating thirty years of life, a life I gave him, a life I supported him through, without me and with the parent of the year who still hasn’t learned to tell the truth or feel remorse.
I guess that was much more than I meant to share, but maybe it’s good to put some of this out there. This is after all the day of the month I’m supposed to share my insecurities with my virtual support group, right?
For the last three weeks, the well has been dry. I’ve been on social media blackout. I’ve not blogged. I’ve not written a single new word. I’ve cried a lot.
Today, I pulled my panties up and: I stopped crying, wrote this post, re-engaged on social media, and wrote a few new words.
Thank you for letting me vent and share my insecurities, and for unknowingly helping me find the courage to do better today.
Readers and writers, please be sure to go by IWSG for how to participate in this monthly blog challenge and for almost 200 other posts to peruse.