Happy Monday

I'm trying to be more positive, remember? So I'll start with the fact that ... I had a pretty good weekend. And this is the last week of school for the boy, and the last week before our vacation.

I really can't express HOW MUCH I need a vacation. Or maybe I kind of did in my last post.

So this week will be busy, prepping, and now I have another doctor appointment ... tomorrow actually. And that's a good thing, not a bad thing. It's good because they are going to do a CT scan of my abdomen and my pelvis to check out my lymph system.

I really think it will come back fine, and then we'll move from there and see what's up with my hormones.

How's that for optimistic? Pretty good when you consider that part of me wants to freak out and start planning my funeral because I probably have lymphoma. But those are irrational thoughts, so I won't go there. This is just going to be a good base-line scan to see what's up and that I'm healthy and all that. It's just to rule out anything horrible. No big deal.

So yes, happy, happy, I'm trying to be.

I read something on the Book of Face about talking about one's blessings more than one's problems. So, I'm trying PEOPLE.

That is all. Happy Monday.

Rambling that things are probably OK

I think the long weekend did me some good. It probably seems like it obviously would, but I can't really explain HOW.

One of the nicest parts was that we had absolutely nothing on the schedule. However I didn't want to do "absolutely nothing" because I wanted to take advantage of the gift of time.

Saturday morning, I ping'd one of the boy's pal's family to see if he could join us to see the movie "Epic." So yes, I took an additional child with me, which was fun. I was out-numbered, but they were a breeze, well-behaved, and we all enjoyed the movie. The boy's getting to that age where everything's more fun if he can bring a friend. And quite honestly, having two is easier than one (two that aren't related, lol).

I'm really tired of stressing, and there have been so many things going on right now ... so many moving parts, out of my control.

I mean, in case you haven't caught everything: the boy's arthritis may have moved to another joint, which is obviously concerning; my boss left to pursue another opportunity (a boss I really loved, who hired me, and whom I felt safe under); the BD is in town, and I'm going through this legal crap ... and today I'm seeing the doctor about some lymph nodes under my arms that have been swollen off and on for months. I saw this doc in October, and he seemed to think it is just hormonal. But I recall telling my mother about the swelling, and at the time, my glands were about the size of a pea. I asked her to feel one because it wasn't visible.

Monday, I had my arms stretched over my head, as we sat on my back patio, and she said, from across the table, "You have a huge knot under your arm." Well, I have an identical one under the other arm. They're about the size of a ping-pong ball.

So as if I didn't have enough to worry about ...

But hey, I phoned the doctor yesterday and am seeing him today, so, I'm taking care of it.

I woke up in a good mood today ... maybe because it's my mentor's birthday, and we swapped text messages ... maybe because I had an amazing yoga class last night (73 of us in one room) ... maybe because I saw my freshly cut grass that T mowed yesterday, which I couldn't see until this morning because it was dark when I arrived home.

Or maybe because I spoke with my son's father yesterday and informed him that we have a trip booked for Florida, and I wanted to make sure he didn't have any intention of attempting to interfere with it. We booked it months ago, and my son is looking forward to it, and I've been afraid to tell his father because, since we're in "legal process," the law says I need his written consent to take my son out of the state.

I know, it's ridiculous. The man hasn't been back 90 days, and he lived out of state for  five years, but I have to get his OK to take the boy on our annual trip to Florida.

My attorney pretty much said, "Screw it. Don't ask, and just go." But she would never put that in writing.

So anyway, in good faith, I phoned him yesterday and informed him of our plans. He said he would not contest it and sent an OK in writing (email).

Huge sigh of relief, as my mother and I have really been concerned that, despite the fact that I already purchased our airfare, he might try to shut the trip down. But he didn't. So yeah, I'm very appreciative of that.

So maybe I'm in a good mood because I know that in two weeks, we'll be on the beach, and I'm actually going to get a vacation. A break. An escape.

I can't wait.

Another week

Well, the work week is almost over, and I haven't posted since Monday ... mostly because not much has changed.

I tend to fixate on the current legal process we're going through ... trying not to phone the attorney too frequently, as it costs money, but this waiting game is very difficult. Not to mention that my son's father continues to request access. At the advice of my attorney (as well as friends and family), I have stopped responding, as I know he's collecting "no"s from me, with the claim that I'm denying him access.  In part, I am, because as I've continually stated, I want the court to decide on appropriate access.

I'm glad he has some sobriety again, but I can't trust it will last. But what can you trust in this world anyway? There are simply no guarantees.

As I collected items donated to the victims of recent tornadoes, I thought about how I really try to engage in philanthropic activities. It makes me feel good. But why can't I have sympathy for my son's father, if addiction is really a disease?

I think a lot of it is his attitude and approach, his sense of entitlement, him thinking he can show up after being out of state five years and just jump right into my son's life as if his actions over the last decade simply no longer exist.

It's easier to be kinder to a stranger than to someone who has been a very costly liability for so long.

That's really all I have.

I'm looking forward to summer, to my son's sports camp and school being out ... there are things to look forward to, no doubt. I'm trying to focus on those things, but it's difficult right now.

Mostly, I'm looking forward to the long Memorial Day weekend ... and hoping I don't hear from BD too much at the same time.

Hope everyone has a nice holiday and takes a moment to observe the purpose of the holiday -- to honor our veterans and military. Another thing for which to be grateful.

Txt

"I'm just sayin', another kid on the team is adopted and has two mothers, so we aren't the only ones on stage at the freak show."

"You are not part of a freak show. Everything was dandy until Bozo showed up. He's the circus attraction."

Yes, this is part of a text conversation I had today. Yes, the first sentence was what I sent.

And so I read it again before I typed it here. And trust me, I don't judge. And I'm all for marriage equality (everyone should be subject to suffer marriage), and I couldn't give a shit what others want to do in their private lives. So I shouldn't have necessarily delivered that statement the way I did. But it tells you a lot about how I'm feeling and what I'm thinking.

It became kind of necessary for me to share the news about my son's father's reappearance to the team soccer manager ... and I told him in confidence because quite honestly? My son's father is an embarrassment, and it's not something I would ever want my son's peers to know about.

And then there's this one blogger I read, who lost a teenage son to a drug overdose, and she often posts these articles that make the claim that addiction is a disease. That it's not the person's fault. I've heard a lot, read a lot, experienced a lot over the past decade regarding this, too. I see the argument on both sides.

There is no real point to this post, other than I continue to make my way through the waves that my son's father keeps creating in my previously calm water.

WANTED NEEDED: Magic

So I've been in a funk. And I have been busy, too.

And since I last posted I attended one soccer skills practice Friday night, and a soccer tournament that consisted of (thankfully) four matches, two on Saturday and two on Sunday. We made it to the finals, and it was wonderful and exciting! But I've been in a funk, and my son's father has been present at all of these events, and it's just all creepy and weird and not our NORMAL since, as I may have mentioned, he lived out of state for the past FIVE years.

I'm still struggling with his presence. I'm waiting to hear back from my attorney, which is what I think having an attorney is really all about ... waiting to hear back from them. Waiting. And waiting.

And my family is all fussin' about how to handle this. My father's wife feels bad for BD because she never got to see her father when she was a child (because her mother wouldn't let him see her) ... but this ISN'T EVEN THE SAME THING, LADY.

So she's kind of being a bitch to me, and the whole thing is just a mess.

I'll be ready for the temporary modification orders to come from the court. The court's No. 1 priority will be to ensure his safety and my child's best interest will be the No. 1 priority. My current fear is that if he spends much time with his father, who has no job and has only temporary housing ... if he spends time, bonds more, and then BD fails him once again and has to move back home with his parents, where he's lived the five previous years? Um, that could really hurt my son.

In my opinion, the man has to earn his time with my child, and I believe that's what the court will expect him to do, as well.

I'm so sick of the whole thing. It's taking a major toll on me.

For what it's worth, I've been trying to drink a ton of water today, and my yoga bag is in the trunk of my car, and after my studio hiatus ... walking back through that door this evening will be really hard.

But man, something HAS to help me get out of this FUNK I've been in for ... um, all year maybe? For too damn long. You know the saying, "Sick and tired of being sick and tired."

Yoga's worked magic for me before ... it probably can't hurt anything ... I mean, I'm not sure I could possibly feel worse. So ... yeah ...

There were some other occurances recently that are contributing to my funk ... last week was a bad week ... but that's a post for another time ...

Let's remove the temporary bandage

It's strange. Me and a couple of gal pals have had this text-thread-thing going awhile. We're all single ('cept I'm now not, but not married either), and I think we like knowing we're there for each other. At the same time, I haven't mentioned this website to them.

But when I have good news, like I finally finished my taxes for 2012 (or rather, my CPA did) and I'm getting a refund? I will text them. Usually someone will respond. On one extremely crucial date recently, someone did respond and pretty much ... well, let's say I can never repay her for her support.

In case I've not mentioned, I'm kind of going through a rough time. I feel like I've been "going through a rough time" since 2003. I messaged a friend today that I think the most stress-free years of my life were 1998 - 2003. I was finished with college. I had a job and could make ends meet, and I was all "focused on my career," and everything was going as planned, but not much was changing. I remember being bored. I got a dog. And I remember being lonely sometimes, but I don't remember being as stressed, as full of anxiety as I am.

No one likes to read about this stuff. Even on Facebook ... It's surprising, but people don't want to look. The people who care don't want to anyway, because it hurts them to read how much you're hurting. So I came here, but a few of you I know (who don't live anywhere near me) are here, but I know you don't really want to hear the bad stuff either. There's enough bad stuff out there. I'd rather read e-cards all day long than read the news media and be reminded how crazy this world is.

And you know what else stresses me out? Is that I want to control it. I want to know the end of the story, because I want to know that it all works out fine in the end. I want to know that everything is going to be OK, and we're all gonna be happy. But no one can tell me that for sure.

It's a new month, and I even though my job is crazy (and I love it), and even though my son's schedule is CRAZY, and even though I have a case with the Office of the Attorney General that is "in the legal process" (pause ... ya'll, this is what's driving me mad ... how is *this* MY life? A case with the OAG?), even though all this shit is going down for real ya'll? I gotta make some changes. Seriously, I thought I needed fewer changes? But I'm second-guessing now ... I've been in a rut for too long ... I need MORE changes.

I either need to focus more at work, ok, shit, I definitely need to do that because I can see some opportunities ... but I am also going to have to go back to yoga, which I've abandoned for more than two months. I last practiced in February, so I'm pretty sure it's actually almost three months.

And I'm dreading looking at myself in the mirror. Do you know that scares me more than I can even explain? I spent 17,610 minutes sweating in that studio last year. If I can operate a calculator, that's 298 hours, and I'm not even sure how much healing that equals, but I know it kept me sane when I was laid off. And if it could do that? Then maybe I really should get back to it, especially since the ex moved to town.

I'm also dreading putting on my cute lil yoga outfits and missing the definition of my muscles that haven't had a good workout in quite some time. And I have my third annual local run against cancer coming up in a few weekends, and yoga will help me prepare for that since I never train in advance anyway.

OK, I think I'm really out of excuses. I am. But I'm terrified. "No one ever died in the yoga room," they say. I'm not afraid to die. I'm afraid of exposing the wound, but that's where the light will enter, and it needs to be healed.

Diamonds on the soles of my shoes ...

It's Friday. I have clean hair, and it's Friday. And the sun is shining, and I'm wearing my glitter TOMS.

I've added the word "NO" to my vocabulary, and I awoke having made a decision that I? Am not going to entertain my ex with any communication whatsoever. I hired an attorney for a reason, right? He has legal counsel now. There's no need for me to converse with him.

Peas and pears, ya'll.  And TGIF.

Angry all the time

"Sometimes I don't know why this old world can't leave well-enough alone," Bruce Robison.

A Friday better than Good Friday

I'm not as mad today. Fridays are good like that. But I am curious to see if the attorney gets our motion and petition to the clerk's office today, and to see if BD gets served today.

I'm also anxious to see how he responds.

Blarghity, blargh, blargh.

I think I will go shopping after work. I'm a firm believer in retail therapy.

UPDATE:  There will be no serving of the papers until at least Monday. So, really, it's probably better to start the weekend off this way anyway. Just another reason to hate Mondays, eh?

Here we go

Well, I'm pursuing a modification. I don't want to make the rules, so I'm engaging the court system ... hoping it will be a stress relief and not an additional source of stress.

A modification is the only way we can require BD have random drug/alcohol screens ... and it will provide him a path to follow in order to earn the right to spend time with my son. If he passes tests, remains sober, he will be rewarded with additional possession.

I think this is fair. Even if I might not like the outcome. Again, I don't want to make the rules, so ... here we go ...

The little things ...

Wednesday has been significantly better than Monday. Monday was pretty horrid, so ... not sure how much that's really saying BUT ...

Three little words in an email made my day at 5:31 p.m. today:

"Thanks! Great work!"

I've been hiding in the office lately, keeping my head down, burying myself in my workload, in an attempt to keep my mind from wandering into spaces it should not go.

That little acknowledgment and praise? I needed it today. Sometimes that's all any of us really need ... a pat on the back, encouragement that one's doing a good job ... at least at something.

I'm feeling stronger. But it waxes and wanes.

9 a.m. ... Anxiety -> Sadness -> Melancholy ... 1:40 p.m.

OK, so I managed to distract myself with work for a few hours. Or a couple. Yes, I know the difference between a "few" and a "couple." And I know that four-and-a-half hours until I speak with my son doesn't fall into either one of those categories.

Point is that I'm having a problem focusing today, and not one email has come in during the past 90 minutes, leaving me time to work on projects that I can focus ... but yeah, I'm having problems focusing today. I would probably have problems with that even if it was a regular day and my son was at school ... well, a regular Friday before a weekend holiday. Because weekend holidays? They kill Friday productivity anyway. By 3 p.m., no one is in the office, if they showed up at all, opting not to work from home. Friday productivity is an easy victim anyway, let's face it.

I'm kind of past the regular lunch time, too. So maybe I'll slip out early and get a manicure or go *buy something*. I am a firm believer in retail therapy.

I should also go to yoga, but I'm kind of on a hiatus. That's another story.

It's Good Friday ... don't forget to set your boundaries

It's Good Friday, ya'll.  It arrived, along with three members of my ex-family, but nonetheless my son's family.

Most of ... OK, my entire team ... is working from home today. But not me ... I decided to hide in the office, mainly because my ex-husband and his parents picked up my son to take him overnight. He has not seen them since August.

I have not seen them since August. And I had no desire to face them today. I'll get better; I'll get stronger. I'm learning how to set boundaries. But for this initial child-swap, I reached for back-up and went to my father. Rather, he came to me. He arrived at my house this morning, I went to the office, and he dealt with the ex and family.

Again, I'm learning to set boundaries. They were not to be allowed in my home, so my father and my boy threw the football in the front yard before their arrival -- less awkward.

I'm told the exchange went well. My son will phone me later this evening and will be returned early in the morning, as the grandparents are just in town on their way south to an antique show. The ex is staying in town with a friend until he can find a place ...

I agreed to allow him two hours with my son tomorrow (supervised by a mutual friend), after our neighborhood egg hunt. If he asks about Easter? I have a new word in my vocabulary; it's "no."

If I can survive until Sunday, I'll be OK for a while ... until he requests his next visit.

I truly want to do what's right for my son, but I'm scared to death about his father's blind return to our community. He has no residence yet; and he has no job. I realize these are not things I should worry about, but I worry anyway. I'm a professional at it.

The ex is staying with this mutual friend until he can find housing. I had a good chat with said mutual friend last night. Married, with a five-year-old daughter, he intends to allow the ex to stay with him while he works to find housing. If he doesn't achieve this promptly, and if he fails to remain sober, the mutual friend said he will have zero tolerance. It's nice of him to offer initial help, but my ex has been enabled by so many for so long ... it's a fine line, but I think the mutual friend and I both realize that and are on the same page.

Trying to keep my chin up. It is Good Friday, after all.

I had a blog

I had a blog, I suppose I still have that blog ... but I haven't posted in a couple of years ... maybe more ... I don't go back there often. My life is very different now.

So I've been wanting to write more, to post, to blog because what really steered me away from blogging was ... you know ... Facebook. It seemed like a one-stop-shop, and I can post there, too -- you know, "NOTES." And that's what I did ... when it was mostly just my friends on there. Some of the other folks I used to follow via their blogs ... it was definitely before Mrs. Tucker, my third-grade teacher, got on FB and then extended that friend request, and I was all torn about.... should I add her? OK, hell, I'll add her. But I'll be more careful about saying "hell."

And who doesn't remember the awful day you received a friend request ... FROM YOUR MOTHER. Oh lord, she's on FB ... now I'm going to have to be really careful about what I say ... or when I post because lord knows I don't want her asking why I was up at 3 in the morning posting youtube videos of popular 1990s bands.

Are you suffering from insomnia?
Were you drinking?
Is your depression bothering you?
Is everything OK?

Questions. So at any rate, FB is no longer the best place for me to be HONEST. It's not a place where I can vent. (And it's kind of "brag book," and it's getting disgusting.) And so I find myself right back here on Blogger.

And no, everything is not OK right now.

I'm a single-mom.  To a wonderful son.  Who is now eight years old.

His father left the state, when my child was three years old, to return to his home state, where his family resides. I honestly can't tell you how huge of a relief that was for me because when he lived HERE, I played "fake family" for two entire years, trying to allow my son to have as much safe and secure time with his alcoholic father as possible. I supervised visits. I turned him away when he showed up intoxicated.

He was moving away?  Sure, just for six months, to get on his feet ... but ...

RELIEF. I'm friggin' FREE. Oh, OK mostly free. I'll play "fake family" on holidays.

Christmas? I can do it for Christmas, sure. Birthdays? No problem! I can handle, what,  maybe four visits per year? And I'll take the relief of knowing that when he gets arrested for speeding, and being drunk while speeding, he won't call me. Because I'm thousands of miles away.

(He did phone his parents. And they did fetch him ... and he managed to get that violation knocked down to a ticket for "distracted driving" because it was his first offense in Hamilton County.)

Five years later ... he's completed his fourth rehab in the decade that I've known him ... but he's taken it further ... he completed 90-days in a "transitional living" house, after his 28-day stay in-patient. He's seeking aftercare. He's doing what he's supposed to be doing.

And he's coming to visit for Easter. But I can't play "fake family" this time ... I have a life again, and he has no departure date in sight. And he intends to find local "transitional living," and he wants to now be more involved in my son's life.

Well, shit.  See, everything is not OK.  Just don't tell FB.