Thursday, 13 February 2020


I wish with my whole being that my story, my version of life did not mean that this is true. But, it is and most days these are things that make me feel the most vulnerable as well.


Tuesday, 11 February 2020

And just like that I go from managing to overwhelmed in a moment,

About 2 weeks ago Kevin pled guilty to some much lesser charges. I have a lot of big feelings about that. Mostly it makes me mad because I feel like he is getting away with so much more but I keep trying to tell myself he could have gotten away with it and been found not guilty. I fee like I should just be relieved that he has admit he did something.

Except I am not relieved.

I am overwhelmed and sad for Kate and for me too.  I just found out that although we can make statements about the impact these crimes have had on our lives we can only speak to the lesser charges that he pled guilt to. Which feels a bit like being run over by a truck and then being told that you can only tell people it was a bicycle that hurt you even though the truck has altered your life forever and bicycle might of just been an annoyance or caused some minor injuries.

I am shocked at how fast I go from  - everything is okay, I am managing this, to oh my goodness I can not do this and there will be no managing.

I feel as though this going to need to be a day with a lot of deep breaths as I try to keep myself calm because this event is still six weeks away.

Monday, 10 February 2020

How much longer?

A friend who has been struggling in her marriage for a long time just called me to tell me that she and her husband were getting a divorce. It has been a long time coming and she finally in a moment of anger just said out loud that she was done and he agreed. Then they both left for work. 

I am jealous. 

It is no secret that Jack and I have been struggling for years to remain connected in the midst of all the chaos that has become our normal. On Friday I tried to talk to him, tried to tell him something that was gigantic for me and he could not hear me. Instead of listening and offering empathy he compared my sharing, to recent events he also is struggling with. they are not the same. It's not because he doesn't care because he does, and deeply. Instead it is that his pain is so great that he can't acknowledge mine and understand how that pain is currently affecting every single aspect of my existence at the moment.

We are both so broken from years of parenting trauma and all the implications of this journey. I have found support and friendship through the hardest parts and he has not found anyone. I go to therapy and try to manage and still be a good parent to Kate and Randall in spite of all that has gone on. He does not. He spends his time working, complaining about working and lying in bed watch cop shows on his iPad and then wonders out loud why the kids are not connected to him and don't tell him anything. 

Most days I feel like staying here with him is a battle that I do not want to fight anymore and he has no idea what is going on because he refuses to take the time to listen to me when I try to talk to him. 

It makes me sad for him, for me and for our kids because I do not think I can keep up this charade for much longer. 

Thursday, 6 February 2020

what do you do when it is all just the same?

There have been many moments in the last week or so when I have thought about coming here, thought about writing something to help me process some of what is happening in my head and to my spirit but I haven't. I feel like I have nothing more to say that I have not already said.

Things are hard.

Most days feel as though I lived through enough life to last for a whole month.

These days that are hard for me, seem to last forever. For awhile now I have been working on  acknowledging the level of pain and exhaustion that I am feeling as a result of my life and my own trauma that has been front and centre in all moments of my life.

I so wish that our lives were different. I wish that I could go back and change the past. I so wish my life had turned out differently

I have been hanging on to this message for awhile and made it the wallpaper on my phone the other day, not because I feel as though my story is something people need to hear but more because I know that knowing I am not alone has been such a comfort to me. Perhaps one day sharing my story will help someone else realize that they are not alone either.

Friday, 31 January 2020

Tripping over trauma

For the last 12 years I have parented children with significant trauma and as a result I am often find myself tripping over my own trauma when I am least expecting it. The resulting stumble that trip creates might overwhelm me for days and sometimes for much longer.

That is where I am today.

After the first set of trial days for Kevin in October, my own childhood trauma memories moved their way back into my daily existence. Some were new pieces of a puzzle that I did not know existed and some were old, I thought I had processed them the first time I worked with a trauma therapist in my early 20's. Clearly, (although I did a lot of work) I was going to have work through them all again, especially the new ones.

That's the thing, I had no idea they had happened, my brain had protected me for all these years because the truth was more than I could handle. It it still more than I can handle because I have so many blank spots where things do not make sense and no matter how hard I try to figure out what happened all those years ago.

Even though I can't fill in all the blanks my body remembers, things scare me or make me oddly uncomfortable. Last night I worked through a physical reaction to something I had discussed in therapy and it was so hard to manage. I was nauseous and filled with anxiety and felt as though my chest was going to explode with each deep breath I took to try to calm myself down.

I am 42 and this is so hard.

How do my children manage it? How did I manage it as a child?

Why do we live in a world where children are hurt by adults or other children? Why do we live in world where this okay and people are not held responsible for the choices that they make.

I know that part of my struggle last night stemmed from what happened this week. From the fact that I spent almost an entire day and night in an ER with Randall as we fought to get him the psycheratric help he so desperately needs. Then, the next day, I learned that Kevin had accepted a plea deal that would see him getting probation and therapy rather than serving time for what he did to his siblings. And, although I never wanted him to go to jail, I am so upset that he gets to walk away only accepting the smallest amount of responsibility for his actions.

Much like the people in my childhood and in the childhoods of so many others, he is not going to be held accountable for what he did. It is complicated to wish that your child is going to be punished for the choices that they made when you know that hurt people, hurt other people.

Who hurt him?

Why cannot we be in place where we just love and support each other either rather than hurt and destroy as we try to manage our own intense pain and brokenness...

I wish I could answer that. I wish that this was not my reality. I am trying so hard to be okay. To not go back to that very dark place I was in last week where the best option was to just cease existing.

Friday, 24 January 2020

for me

I have mostly written in this place for myself because it helps my head to get the thoughts out and because there are so few people that I can talk to about what is happening in my life. There are a few people whom I have told about this place and a few others who have stumbled across me because they found me again on twitter when I followed them and they figured out who I was or were interested in what I have to say.

That anonymity has meant that I could come and go here as I wanted to and not worried about what I have said or not said because so few people come to see what is written on this little corner of the internet I have carved out for my own.

This week I wanted to die. I had a plan. I had the means and it truly felt as though I could not live another day.

That was Tuesday. Today is Friday and I am still here. To be honest I cannot tell you what stopped me and it was not the first time I have felt that way in the last year and half. I did see my therapist that day and I know how worried she was. That night I texted her and told her I needed her to hang on to my meds so that I did not take them all in an attempt to end my life.

She certainly helped and did all the things she should have done. I am not sure why it was that I stopped and asked for help rather than taking the pills.

But I did and I am still here.

The days feel hard. I get wake up each morning faced with the grim reality that is my life and I do not want to get out of bed. Randall texts me and say mean and hateful things and I wish that there was a way to fix him. Kate is sassy because I am annoyed that most of our forks have disappeared and although that is not a big deal it kind of is because of where they came from. Yep, forks are just things but when getting out of bed each days take all the energy you have fighting with your teen about forks becomes just one more thing you have to do.

I do not want to do anything.

I move slowly in the morning because everything hurts and I am not a morning person. I have coffee and try to muster up the will to shower and get dressed, if I do both before 9am it feels like a monumental accomplishment. I push through all the things I must do like take care of dogs and attend appointments. I might fit some school in somewhere if I can find the emotional resources to manage it. But, the reality is I spend a lot of time thinking about how hard life is and how much I hate mine.

Sometimes I fantasize about how life could be if I made some changes. How it would be if I left Jack and started over again just with Kate and then I feel guilty for even thinking that. He has also given the last 15 years of his life to this marriage and family when he could have been doing other things that would have been a hell of lot easier than the life we have lived. I care about him but we are so broken and I just can not see a way for us to mend ourselves and be in relationship with one another.

Where will I be in a year or even in a month. I can not see or hope past this day because that just feels overwhelming.

Depression is the not the companion I would have asked for at this point in my life.

Saturday, 21 December 2019

no snappy or witty titles here

I don't know where to even start writing today. I want to write, I want to talk and share and record this portion of my life but with each passing day that just gets harder and harder.

I mustered up the courage to go see my doctor ( whom I do not have a lot of faith in) to change my anti-depressants in the hope that something might work better than the one I am on right now. My physical pain has been intense for the last few months and my mental health has only ever been this bad once before when I was young adult and struggling through my own childhood trauma.

I was sort of honest about how miserable I am and he agreed to change the meds. I went filled the new script and started a schedule to switch from one to the other with an overlap of about 3 weeks. I took the first one Wed. morning. By Thursday morning the skin on my chest was hot and red and by the afternoon I had full blown hives all over my torso. I called the Dr's office, they said they would call me back. They never did. I called again and they had nothing to offer. I contemplated my options and decided to wait till Friday and see if they could help with another script or a suggestion of how to manage this. No one called. I finally called them and informed them I would stop the new med, stick with one I was on till after our vacation and then we could figure out what to do. The nurse seemed concerned about my plan but had nothing better to offer and the only other thing I could do was go to the ER which in my small town is either a really good ER or a really bad ER, there is non happy medium. In the end I decided I could not manage the ER in the days leading up to Christmas with flu season in full swing.

I hate that I can not get this Dr. to hear and understand that I am not simply trying to make his life more challenging I just am that 1% of people who have every crazy reaction to any med I take and it is a disaster every single time. I need to find a different Dr. I need to find someone who will hear when I say that most days I feel like I would rather not be here anymore. That my life is a dark place full of sadness that is totally overwhelming most days. I need him to hear that I the shame and anguish I feel about ruining my daughter childhood and life in general is huge and overwhelming. I need him to hear that my pain is chronic and exhausts and his refusal to treat it is ridiculous. I need this to not be one more super hard thing that I have to deal with on top of everything else everyday.

And then I feel like I am whining and complaining and that I should be able to manage all of this without any problems. Except I can't mange it, at all, not even when I am pretending. Looking back on the past year just makes me sad. This not the life I planned and this is not the life I want.

Monday, 16 December 2019


I have decided I hate December. I am ready for it to be over. I am ready for 2019 to be over but since 2018 sucked as well and the outlook for 2020 isn't so hot I would like to just skip ahead to March or so of 2021 and go forward from there.

Wanna join me?

Perhaps we can wait out our time travel arrangements in Costa Rica with some tasty drinks and room service.

That would be nice. I am tired of being sad. I am tried of wishing things were different and although deep down I know this is not all because of anything thing I did, I am filled with shame and regret over the choices I have made in the last 12 years and the number of lives that have been ruined because I though I could be a good parent.

Tuesday, 3 December 2019

Will it ever be different?

I am so tired of explaining and then  explaining again the reality that my middle son lives to professionals who claim they are going to help but then do nothing for him. Well nothing that will help anyway.

We waited months for an assessment, something we all hoped might make a difference in getting him the assistance he needs to be a functional adult and instead all we got was another 20 page report that says nothing. He could have this, he might have that, we are not sure so instead of providing him with a label that might help him we are just going to generally say that he needs supports.

I can totally take that to the disability office and ask them to grant him a disability amount based on a my large file of maybe he has...

We went together to hear what the report said yesterday. He was pretty quiet and then as we were leaving he was said, " I really wish she would just say it". He meant his birth Mom and he wishes she could just be brave and strong enough to admit that she drank while she was pregnant and that is why things are so hard for him. He understands that might be why and he also understands that she is unlikely to tell him the truth if he asks.

I so wish I was typing something different this time.

I am so tired of everything being so hard and a such a battle that I feel like I have to fight on my own.

Saturday, 30 November 2019

hard days

I have purposely been absent from here for the last few months while my eldest child and my middle child have their cases wind through the court system. I felt like it would be better if I stayed quiet so that this small corner of the internet could remain mine and that nothing I say here would come back to haunt me as I was cross examined.

That changed this week when court was cancelled and held over for another two months. Hearing that this would not be over anytime soon was my undoing this week. I want to close this door. I want this to be done so we can figure what our normal will be and we can move forward.

So much has happened. So much has changed and in the midst of it all I find myself grieving Kevin and Randall in a way that I did not know was possible. Grieving for all the things we have lost and all the dreams that I had for us. Dreams for me to create a family so different than the one I grew up in. A family that could gather without a million secrets being swept under the rug every time because no one talked about the hard parts. About the abuse and violence, the addictions and tragedy of being a survivor. I did not want that for my children. I want to be open and honest and doing my level best to make sure that these kids always knew that they were wanted and loved.

I wanted them to always know that I would be here for them.

But, I am not there. I am not allowed to be there for Kevin and currently not really for Randall either because he has pushed that door closed for now.

Poor Kate just gets the leftovers. She get s the bits of me that are not consumed by my chronic pain, my grief and my course load as I work on another degree.

There are days when the darkness of depression consumes me and I feel like cannot live in this world for another moment. When I am afraid of the choices I might make to just try end the pain and then I think of Kate and how devastated she would be to lose me and that thought, that broken kid becoming more broken is all that is keeping me here some days.

It is almost December and I am dreading it with every fibre of by being. I do not want to be merry and bright. I want to pull the covers over my head and not come out until life looks less bleak and someone has invented a time machine so I can go back and change things with my kids to the way that they were supposed to be.