So, we’re trailer people now. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I mean, no judgment on any friends who are now, ever have been, or aspire to be trailer people. Unless by some weird coincidence you happen to be the neighbors to my immediate left, in which case I’m totally judging you. Except not even that harshly because I’m empathetic as fuck and have already considered what kind of childhood trauma you must have endured to be as old as you are and have such poor anger management skills. So not so much “judgment” as I feel disconcerted and uncomfortable. And I’m kind of in awe of how perfectly you fit “the stereotype”. I’m not going to spell it out. Everyone knows the stereotype. And lest I sound super judgy still, let me just defend myself here by saying, they literally got in a fist fight outside before the ink was dry on the contract. Figure of speech… ink technology is pretty advanced these days and it was definitely dry. I’m left handed, I would know.
I’m sure everyone is just dying to know what led me to this point. But I can’t entirely go there. It’s complicated and I don’t exactly feel all the ways that I’m probably supposed to feel or that I appropriately should feel. I could sit here and trash the “ex” (or as ex as he can be when neither of us has bothered to initiate a divorce). But honestly, that’s not REALLY my thing. I mostly only try to spell out some of what happened there when I really feel the need to justify how I got here. And the funny part is, I only remember the things that would make it abundantly obvious to the world as an afterthought. The fact is, the truth is far too horrifying to tell so openly and publicly, and yet not nearly horrifying enough to meet people's expectations. I was never beaten. I’m not saying that to justify any of the things that did happen. Let me be clear that I know that, because I don’t need a damn lecture that my stuff is bad too. No shit my stuff is bad, why do you think I’m a trailer person now?
Good lord I sound judgmental again. Maybe I’ll be filled with shame and regret later for repeatedly saying “trailer person” derisively, but just let me have this for now, ok? I mean, the fact that I keep saying it sort of points to the fact that I had a privileged upbringing. I don’t mean we were rich. But it was a stable two-parent home. I got plenty of attention. I was fed and clothed and had plenty of toys and books and extracurriculars. Point being, I don’t necessarily have much of an excuse for how I got to where I am today. I’m kind of a disaster. Most people you meet who are in my situation… strike that; at the risk of considering myself “unique” and “special”, I’m willing to go out on a limb and say no one has been in my situation. Yes, yes, everyone is different and no two situations are exactly the same, blah, blah, blah. But I guarantee you there are no support groups for single, Catholic homeschooling moms of a LOT who also “...” and then, “...” followed by “...”. And no, I’m not going to fill in the blanks right here right now. But each one is pretty dang significant and there are support groups for all of them, but I guarantee you, you’re not going to find any one else that overlaps into all of them. Not even on the internet. I’ve talked to a lot of people in all my categories and each one looks at me like I have three heads for also being in the other categories. But what was I saying before I interrupted myself? Oh yes. Most people you meet who have achieved my level of disaterification have a much better backstory. By which I mean worse. Obviously.
Speaking of my misdeeds and poor life choices, well, those are far too horrifying to be told too, but still not horrifying enough to be what crosses anyone's mind. I never beat anyone, I’m not a druggie, or an alcoholic. But I can’t pretend I’m not responsible for any of how I got here. I’ve made some pretty bad choices. I left my kids for a while. Maybe I “had to”? There are arguments to be made for that perspective. But did I really have to? Probably not. Had I not, I might still be there though. In fact I almost certainly would be. But I have regrets. It’s affected them a lot, permanently. They will all have a backstory worthy of any villainry the may wish to get up to. Well, except they weren’t beaten. Which, again, doesn’t negate their trauma, but everyone is always extra concerned about beatings and then lectures you that your trauma is real when you assure them that no beatings have taken place. Whatever, I’m tired now. I hope that helped clear up all the questions everyone might have about what’s been going on with me (*queue unhinged laughter*).
*Disclaimer because I’m codependent, people-pleasing, and neurotic: In all sincerity, I’m tremendously grateful to be where I am. I’ve received a miraculous amount of help and the truth is, my life has been improving dramatically in the past month alone. We’ve been crammed in a motel for the past three weeks and this morning I woke up and suddenly came across a truly decent 3-bedroom place with a good-sized kitchen and it’s a significant upgrade. Despite the very real challenges, my kids have fricking awesome attitudes and our family life has been improving here by leaps and bounds. We have made amazing memories already and I love how we’re all working together to support each other materially and emotionally. My kids are seriously the coolest people ever and this life we're living right now is pretty damn good for them. I hope. I generally find sulky self-pitying to be insufferable, but the truth is I haven’t gone a night without crying after I get in bed and trying not to let the kids see, because this is HARD. It’s really truly hard, but we’re doing it and I’m proud of us. Tonight it occurred to me that writing is therapeutic for me. My original intention was to journal, but apparently I don’t have a freaking notebook and I really want one of my dot grid journals anyway, and I’m 99% sure I have one somewhere in storage. Oh yeah, and sorry for the cussing. I do that now. I actually always have, but I’ve tried to pretend I don’t when I'm around respectable folk, but I don’t feel like pretending anymore.
