Home

I woke up today needing to get straight to the blog. I think I’ve way underestimated how rough these last few weeks have been on me. And I finally had a minute to cut myself some slack and accept why my emotions and actions have been so all over the place lately. So much change and so much loss packed in so close together. I’ve been in absolute survival mode…just trying to tread water to keep from drowning.

Ahhhh. See? It feels good to just start writing and right away pick up on that. I’ve been fucking dying…just barely getting through the day some days and it’s no fucking wonder. You see…two nights ago I locked myself out of my house by breaking my key off in my door at 3:30am. I slept in my car. And I was giving myself a hard time for fucking up like that, but man I should be fucking up right now. I’m supposed to be not handling all this well.

I talked to my therapist last week and she said that what I’ve been through lately is equivalent to me getting revictimized or retraumatized. And that’s a big fucking deal. To go back into the childhood shit I went through and get to relive something similar…come on…functioning at all day to day is asking a lot.

I can see pieces of the last few weeks where my brain just shut off…like the abused little kid in me who literally had no way to deal with childhood and had to block stuff out to cope. The relationship got bad and that’s why I left, but there was no way my brain could process how much worse things went the second time around. I was grasping at any possible explanation. One day it’d be all grace. Another day fuck off. Another day what if this or how bout that…and in the end, who cares?

I was trying to either avoid the reality, because it was too much to take or trying to use logic to explain something crazy. And the only thing that will actually work seemed like the hardest thing of all…just cutting off contact. My head has to get to healing. My kids need me to get through this shit and be able to care for them the way they deserve so that their childhoods can be a little less bumpy than mine.

Those two little ones have lived through so much bullshit because of my choices. And I have to keep battling to make their paths smoother. I get fucked up over this girl or that girl and my head goes into a fog and I miss out on parenting moments. I get hurt and the kids suffer.

And it’s been rocky of late. Losing Sarita again. Losing Clarette. Moving. Struggling with the business. I’m not exactly firing on both cylinders these days. I’m going to have days where I just have nothing to give. And yesterday was one of those days. I was in full on victim mode. How did I get here? Why me? I don’t deserve this. Not exactly the ideal mindset when driving to pick up the kids.

But, man…they picked me up. Totally backwards, but it was totally needed. Riley got in the car and was just all energetic and fun and wanted to talk all about everything all at once and that perked Blake up and before you know it we’re having the greatest time. In the car. On the way home from school. Home. That’s what it is when we’re together.

And then to get home and see the looks on their faces when they saw the wall I’d put together for them full of old pictures and school projects. Home. They wanted to talk about the whole thing… “oh I remember this one” “look how cute I was” “I used to think that drawing was so good.” “Daddy, take a picture of us next trying to make the same faces we did in this selfie.” All of it said…we’re home. We’re safe.

One day, I’ll look back on these last few weeks and be amazed that I got through it. But, yesterday, I got carried through a rough patch by my home. Those kids man…I can’t imagine where I’d be without them. I was talking to a friend at the bar on closing night who went through a toxic relationship and she’s all happy and healthy now. She pointed out how important my kids are to me finding health myself. She went through all her shit alone and made it out to the other side. I’m so lucky that I have Riley and Blake.

I’m getting to help coach Blake’s soccer team this season and driving home from his game on Sunday there was so much hope. I was shaking my head and thinking “how can I ever be sad?” Like, with all the people who adore me…it just doesn’t even feel right writing that, because it’s so far from how I’ve always felt about myself…but I’ve had so much support through all this stuff…I’ve been made to feel adorable. And the kids…my god those kids. With other people and the kids on my side…yeah…I should be sad…I should be really fucking sad because of what’s happened to me, but I’ve got those little rays of hope to help get me back on frame.

And I’ve learned that my way to do that is to just listen and talk my way through life. It heals. It reminds us we’re not alone. The shit that all you guys have been through isn’t okay. My shit isn’t okay. But, we have to find ways to get through it so that we can care for the people who depend on us. And it’s fucking freeing for me to just remind myself of the word revictimization. It’s not some minor little thing that will just go away on its own. It’s going to take a lot of time and a lot of Kleenex and a lot of processing. So, let’s keep processing together. Look me up. Inbox me. Come over and get some freedom…let stuff out that you’ve been holding in. I’m out of whiskey, but I have plenty of tissues for our issues.