When is it enough?

At the risk of my dear step-children one day reading this, I have a deep sense of urgency to express this is writing. I can no longer keep it inside of myself as I am finding it destructive.

I will preface my thoughts with a very simple statement. The biological mother of my step-children suffers from a very severe personality disorder (Cluster B for those who know personality disorders). I’m not kidding or saying that in jest. She is incapable of seeing the negative impact that she has on others. She uses emotional manipulation and psychological control to maintain the loyalty of her children. She instinctively creates dramatically destructive situations and lays blame to everyone but herself (including the children). Her daughter has resorted to emotional insulation and escape behaviors to manage her anxiety. Her son withdraws emotionally in general but is quick to overreact when his own negative emotions become too much for him to bear.

She has been jailed twice for domestic violence (both of which were witnessed by the children) and allowed a previous boyfriend to assault her son as a form of punishment. CPS has completed two investigations and is currently completing another one. Each time (and I’m sure this time as well) ending with the “consequence” of parenting and/or anger management classes. Both of which are clearly useless to the personality disordered who invariably and intractably believe that they are not wrong and do not need to change.

So I ask this with a level of desperate frustration that I cannot fully express. When will it be enough? At what point will someone with the authority to back it up finally say that she cannot parent? My mind is continually brought to this case in my own hometown.

http://www.mlive.com/news/flint/index.ssf/2016/07/mother_charged_in_connection_t.html

In this case, there were “multiple previous contacts with CPS over allegations of physical neglect, medical neglect, lack of supervision, physical abuse and having a drug-exposed infant.” Only after this mother killed her 4-year-old son, did anyone bother to take any of her 7 children away from her. Everyone knew. The authorities, CPS, neighbors. It took a child’s death for someone to say, “Hey, this woman can no longer parent”. This is the example of child protection that is held in my community. A mother’s rights to be a horrific parent remain active until she kills one of her children.

My husband and I took the fight to the courts. After 6 months, over $5000 in lawyer fees, and a comment from our lawyer that we were “fortunate to get the deal”, we were merely able to increase our parenting time to almost 50%. Our lawyer lamented openly that Genesee County is very conservative and tends to prioritize a mother’s relationship with the children.

So there it is. With our hands tied and our hearts breaking, we watch as the system fails our children. In the one-half of their lives that we are allowed to have, we desperately try to counteract her toxicity with whatever we have to offer them. Security. Stability. Open communication. Support. Family….and Hope that it is enough.

Facing demons

Last week, rather than looking forward to the weekend and time off work, I found myself wishing time would just stop. A situation with Emily and Dylan had come up and their mother had requested a “family meeting”.  Ahem, you mean you want me to sit in a room with you and have a conversation? Don’t you know that my mind has painted you as the evil ex-wife who ruined my husband’s life and who I would rather slingshot into another dimension than have you within my sight? Hmm, that sounds pretty much unbearable and I’d rather do just about anything else.

Then I put my adult hat on and entertained some logical thought. This situation was not about me. The kids needed some guidance and their mother asked for our input. Did I really think I could stand on the sidelines forever and just point fingers when things went awry?  Well, kinda yeah. I’m a step-mom to these kids. One step away from mom. That’s a BIG step. The writing in the gap says something like, “Don’t even think about pretending to be a parent because their “real mom” (a term I hate by the way) will speedily remind you of your insignificance.” So, seriously my method up until this point (5 years and going strong) was to keep my head down and my mouth shut. I talk to Dan when he needs to talk, give him my input, feedback, support… but I never, I mean never, talk to her. Now I have to sit in her living room, look her in the face, and give her my opinion?!?!?!? Oh, jeesh.

To put the suspense to rest, the discussion was positive and productive because we are, in fact, adults. We are parents to these children and we all care about them very much. But I have credited myself with putting aside some very significant and negative feelings in order for that to happen. And I don’t just mean negative feelings about “the ex-wife”.  I mean my own fears and apprehension about my role in this family dynamic. It’s uncomfortable (to say the least) to face any fear and we don’t do it unless the fear becomes a barrier for something we truly want. So I’ve come away from this with a new insight.  I want to be a significant part of my step-children’s wellbeing more than I fear my inferior status in this family will eventually break my heart.

Sounds a lot like love. 

A Mother

It’s easy to recall a time and place when I was not a mother. I spent over 30 years NOT being a mother. My own mom would tell you (if you asked) that she’s frankly surprised I ever got around to wanting children. “Too independent”, she may say. At that, I cannot deny. A mother knows…she saw it my whole life. She saw me turn to rely on myself through the loss of friendships, boyfriends, and even a marriage. She saw me strive to achieve personal goals that were all mine. I remember that young woman who felt a strong pull to be close to others, at the same time fearing that she would ultimately be on her own...so should prepare for it. Where did that come from? I have some notions but that type of disclosure is not for this venue.

Despite the independence, I did open my life to a family who is now mine. Dan, Emily, and Dylan became mine on December 30^th, 2007. My life (and my independence) changed that day. I was incorporated into lives of children that were not part of me by blood…but by love. My world flipped at that point. I was no longer a child. A 31-year-old child. I was a parent. Not yet the mother I am today, but a mother nonetheless. Independence was no longer an option. Adorable, funny, intelligent children depended on me to be someone I had no idea how to be. Sure, I knew what a mother does. But I didn’t know how a mother feels. I didn’t know how to define myself as a mother. Having kids that are kinda yours and totally someone else’s muddles up your feelings quite a bit. Looking back, I struggled with this more than I let on…maybe even more than I realized myself.

While I’m still working on my own identity as mom, I feel I have benefited from those years of being just me. I put time and energy into learning about myself and getting comfortable with me. Happy with me. This gave me the foundation I needed to choose to have a child not to fulfill some selfish need for someone to love and depend on me, but rather to put my life and energy into the fulfillment of someone else. All of a sudden, it made sense. But it wasn’t until I saw who I was to my son that I could truly see who I was to all my children.  It was there before. I just didn’t see it, because I didn’t know. And I didn’t know because I couldn’t know. Something happened to me when I saw my son for the first time that redefined me as a person that I had never been before. I have put a lot of energy into figuring out the “new me” and wonder sometimes if I’m doing a good job. My mother would tell me not to worry about it, I’m doing fine, and that she’s proud of me. Because that’s what I need to hear…so that what she needs to say. Yeah, I get it now. 

Here’s to that redefining moment that happened two years ago tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Cole. 

Goodbyes

After months of deliberating, Dan and I finally decided to give our whippet Mikey to a rescue organization. We found a wonderful foster family who would keep him in their home with their other dogs until he was adopted. He would have free rein of multiple dog beds, couches, and playtime with other animals. We knew it would be great for him and better than we had been able to provide for quite some time.

Here's the handsome guy himself. Goodbye Mikey!

The harder part? Explaining it to the kids.

I knew right away that it would be best for them to come with us to drop him off, see where he was staying and how nice it would be for him. Both of them were happy with that. They even understood why Mikey would be better off with this family rather than ours. What they didn’t understand is why they would never see Mikey again. Each of them expressed contentment with the decision until they asked about whether they could go visit. I could barely look at them while saying, “No, he will need to bond with his new family”. They each kept a stiff upper lip and expressed discontent but not horror, outrage, or any other perfectly understandable emotion.

That is, until we piled back into the van without Mikey.

A quick peripheral glance towards the backseat found Emily facing the other direction, trying to hide her tears. Seeing her upset, tears welled up in my own eyes and I quickly told her that it was okay to be sad. I moved myself to the back, sat next to her, put my arm around her, and let her cry. Which she did…the entire way home. Not the dramatic cry of a child throwing a fit. Emily is nine. She doesn’t really throw fits anymore. But she silently sniffled while she thought of how this loss affected her. I asked her about her thoughts. At first she didn’t want to talk about it, which I accepted. Shortly thereafter, her words flowed much like her tears as she made sense out of those difficult feelings. And to me, that was the point of bringing them along. I knew it would be difficult but there was a teachable moment where I knew I could help Emily process and cope with her difficult feelings. This skill is so necessary to develop when they are young. The difficult emotions that await them in adolescence won’t be quite so overwhelming if they’ve learned that emotions are okay to have, okay to talk about, and do not have to be feared/avoided. That’s what I want for my children. I cannot prevent them from feeling bad but I can show them how to feel better. As for Dylan…stone-faced most of the way home. Then he burst into tears as soon as his mom greeted him that evening. Sometimes, a boy just needs his mommy. I accept that too. 

Put on your hat!

A few weeks ago, I was triggered by one of those ever-increasing Facebook polls. The question was posed by StepMom Magazine, an online monthly magazine and support group forum to which I subscribe. The question asked what I struggle most with as a stepmom. Of the possible choices available, the one that stood out to me was, “Understanding my role in the family”. As I contemplated this, I was moved to consider other roles in my life and the expectations of these roles. I was left wondering where I misplaced my manuals. I’m sure there was a daughter manual around here somewhere. What about my sister manual? Maybe that would give me some ideas. Seriously though, wouldn’t that be nice? If it were that easy.

Instead, we fumble through our various “hats”, changing them numerous times a day depending on what role we are playing in any given moment. As an example, the other morning, I woke up early and put on my student hat as I spent some time studying the bible while everyone else was asleep. Then, the pitter patter of feet brought a sleepy-eyed little girl out to the living room, followed shortly thereafter by little boy feet. I got up to get my stepmom hat. The rise of my husband set me to grab my wife hat. Follow this with a brief moment wearing my mommy hat as my baby boy greets me with his morning smile. Then off to work to twirl on my therapist/teacher hat. Back home for more wife/stepmom/mom. Throw in a little daughter hat as a phone rings. You get the drift.

It seems that most roles come with at least a handful of clear expectations with which to work. But stepmom? My best guess is that it’s some compilation of various roles. Take a chapter from the mommy book, a chapter from the aunt book (you know, positive female role model without any parental power), a few paragraphs from the friend book. Is that it? I do have my own stepmom who is honestly a great role model. I never had any idea how much she must have struggled. I never saw it, not once. She never showed us the difficulties inherent in the role. That is so much more than I’m capable of doing. So in my bewilderment I sit for a moment to reflect on how I can become what I envision for myself, rather than what I see now. How I can define my separate roles with some measure of consistency and adherence to my core values. It is that drive for personal growth that brings me to this expression of myself. Now that I have written it down, maybe I can leave it here. No longer occupying my thoughts but rather allowing me to move on.