Very, very sick

So the good news is that I got to pick up R yesterday. And the messed up part was I had to drive to Fort Worth, to my dad's mother-in-law's (M's) to get him.

Driving there, with T in my passenger seat, the closer we got to the house, the more I wanted to puke.

This whole scene is sick and twisted, and incestuous. I can't get over it.

I went into M's house when she invited me to do so. She was pleasant but did not remember me. Because of her Alzheimer's. She said I looked like someone she once knew. It was sad.

She took me through the house to the area where my ex-husband resides. And as I passed the kitchen refrigerator, I noticed photos on the fridge ... of my son and his father, that I could tell my father's wife put on display, certainly to make things "home-y." Photos of Ryder as a baby with his father. No photos of me, as there have been in the past, of course. Are you feeling queasy yet?

We found the guys in their room, R sort of hiding from me. It was awkward.

M was clueless, said we didn't have to rush off, but I explained that we had an hour drive back to Dallas and had to get ready for school and work today, after our Spring Break.

I was just stewing though ... I got in a bad funk, depressed that this is my reality -- that I have to drive to M's house to fetch my son ... and I realized how friggin mad I am at my father. My therapist will say this is not his fault. But I have a hard time seeing how the hell it's not his fault. Besides I don't know who else to be angry at. Sure, I'm pissed that my ex husband is disgusting enough to accept a free place to stay from my father's wife. But I divorced him for a reason.

My family, I thought, was supposed to support me. The whole thing is very, very sick.