WARNING! I've been up for a few hours crying, this may not be an enjoyable read and you are, as always, welcome to skip it if this is not your thing.
Kids. Did I tell you guys I have 3 kids? They aren't little anymore, which is both wonderful and painful at the same time. I miss their chubby little faces and the snuggles, and the times when the whole universe could be set right by a kiss and hug. It hurts that those times are behind me. But it is amazing to see the people they are becoming. Mostly.
Anyone who has kids can attest, as much as we'd like to mold them like beautiful clay, they come with personalities. Sometimes those personalities are very different from our own.
In my case, it isn't a bunch of bad friends, or drugs that are causing rifts. It's the influence of their father. I chose someone so radically different from me when I got married at the wise old age of 18. I'm a hippie born a couple of generations late, he's slightly left of Hitler in his social leanings.
I got myself out of there and have tried to be an example of what I would like my children to be in this world. He has influenced them too. "Where are you heading with this Kitty?" I'm getting there, don't worry!
Since my diagnosis, I have been making some changes to myself. Things I've always wanted to do. Things I didn't do, by and large because I've always been afraid to rock the boat. Well, when a Dr. walks in to a room and informs you that you may not make it to the picnic you planned at the end of the ride, you become a lot less scared of trying the waters.
Apparently, in the eyes of my children this makes me a Godless heathen. My daughter has been convinced that if she shows any skin above her ankles it's going to cause a bunch a men to be tempted to rape her. An idea that makes me see red, but that's what her dear old daddy has taught her. So me with my pink and purple hair, piercings and tattoos, I'm practically riding a rocket to hell. Leading a path of poor defenseless men ravaged by their uncontrollable animal urges to hump everything that moves with my "Look at me I'm a flashy harlot!" battle cry.
Normally, I could give a rats ass that they think that. I know it's not true. Eventually when life kicks their ass enough to give them some perspective, they will know it's not true.
But tonight has been one of those nights that just break you. I've had a week long very significant flare up. I could barely walk. I've been beaten down by my own body once again. My middle son had a minor health complication that I've also been dealing with and I am so tired right now. The physical exhaustion gives way to depression and then we're really having fun.
Almost like a shark smelling blood in the water, my daughter starts in. I was discussing my next planned piercing with my hubby, and she started right up. "I think you should take them all out." It isn't natural, why do you want to call attention to yourself.....blah blah blah. I usually don't engage her, as I get pretty frustrated by the end, but since I am already at the end of my rope, I did. I (quite politely considering the mood I'm in) told her she was welcomed to her opinion, but I felt she was being outdated and dogmatic and I would do as I liked with my body.
Fast forward an hour or so and my 17yr old is fucking vague booking me on Facebook. He posts, "It's not outdated or dogmatic, it's the word of God!"
I have bent over backwards to not only be a loving example and contrast to the authoritarian regime at their dad's house, but I have provided them every comfort, even when I had to give up my own, because that is what a mother does. I have no regrets about it. But to be reduced to the importance of a god damned vague posting on social media?
So yes I'm crying and yes it's probably dumb that I'm crying. But my kids are the only people have the power to really hurt me. And I'm tired. And I'm just done.
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