Author Archives: debaucherysoup
Letting go
Another fork – and destiny, breaks our clasping hands.
(The path that we are journeying on, once more been split in two)
One stands on the desert floor, while one on ocean sands.
(But reflecting on the stars at night, affords a similar view.)
I know your scars, you’ve seen mine too. We’ve shared our history.
(Reflect no more on what once was, but what His will will be.)
Unfriended – and a giant fish
For all my growth and new maturity (I say with a modicum of sarcasm) I thought I had let go of a certain resentment. It became very apparent that I have not relieved myself of it – after a couple of small kicks to the teeth last night.
So I’m breaking one rule of confidentiality and I’m going to talk about someone. Oh yeah, I’m gonna. Gird your loins.
I’m even putting a photo up … so other women can take heed. I did blur out the other person in the pic (see, I do still have an edit button.)
Last night:
Nic and I were chatting about his ‘donor’ I won’t give him the noble title of ‘Father’ or ‘dad’ he earned neither.
There is a catchy song on the radio by an entertainer named Mackelmore. When I looked this song up, I was surprised to find he resembled said ‘donor’ when I knew him in the clubs. Only, donor had darker blonde hair and a leather jacket. But, similar looking. See below. That is Mackelmore.
Damien Lewis also reminds me of a young version of donor
I wanted to compare to be sure – as it’s been over 18 years since I saw ‘donor’ young.
I went onto Facebook where I am friends with ‘donors’ mother. I use the term ‘friend’ loosely. I think we only chatted twice. Once she actually asked me to send pictures of Nic? Um …. It’s Facebook – I have a WHOLE BUNCH of photo albums chock-a-block full of pictures of Nic. Click on them woman!
There were 3 pictures of donor in her album. So I typed her name and … nothing. She had unfriended me!!!
Now, the last message I sent to her was just before Nic turned 18. basically saying that it would be the last time I reached out and made an effort. I’ve had this notion from the get go that just because donor didn’t want to be in his son’s life, didn’t mean I should punish Nic’s paternal grandparents. I took him to meet his paternal grandmother as a newborn. She didn’t want to hold him. I took him to say good-bye when I was about to move to Nevada when Nic was in 2nd grade. They took a few Polaroids. The second visit before we left town was met with donor on the couch. (Gee, thanks for giving me the heads up that my son is about to meet his donor with no preparation.)
That was the first and only time that donor and son ever met.
I recall he took Nic out onto the playground as I waited nervously – he introduced him to everyone as his son and then showed him his DJ equipment at his apartment (same complex).
That was it.
Nothing more.
I left town and never saw him again. Never pressed for child support. Never contacted him. He made it very clear he did not want to be a father – so be it.
Now, his mom not only unfriended me … but blocked me. And that ticked me off.
It’s one thing to be a deadbeat dad, but what grandparent doesn’t want to know their grandchild?!?!
If a girl came to me holding a baby and saying it was my sons child – I’d have quite a chat with Nic. Did you have sex with this girl? If so – then there IS a chance this is your child. If you do not believe that to be the case, initiate tests to determine the truth. If it is your child, step up and provide for that child. Emotionally and financially.
Was there ever a conversation about Nic between them I wonder?
So I’m sore about being ‘dissed’ by grandma. Nic says he’ll find him and we start searching the net. He announces “I FOUND HIM!” My boy is a funny guy … on his ipad, in the google search box were just the words “Dead Beat Dad”. Ha ha.
I entered his name … and did find him.
It wasn’t until I saw his smiling, carefree face that I realized how angry I still am.
Not only smiling and carefree, but evidently quite the avid fisherman now (AND reviewing expensive rods and reels on Amazon. That’s just super that you have extra money to spend on your hobby there champ!)
Here is the photo: He’s on the left
I wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted that fish to suddenly pull a Monty Python “I’m not dead yet!” and bite his pointing finger off.
The frustration that I feel seeing him enjoying his life when he walked away from his responsibilities is beyond my ability to describe.
I have been angry a lot of today.
I have to stop – drop and roll. No, that’s for something else …
I have to stop. Breathe. Look at fact.
- I chose not to pursue financial assistance from this man, knowing Nic’s life would be better for not having him in it
- It is donors loss not knowing Nic
- I don’t know if his life has been easy or enjoyable from 1 photo
- I don’t know that he wasn’t eaten by that fish …
What I do know is I have more forgiving to do. Because I’m not there yet on this one.
On a happy note – Nic isn’t phased by any of this. I don’t know where he gets his resilience, but I’m glad he has it. I also hope he has bail money should I ever bump into donor in the future.
Today’s Laundry meditation
The thing about laundromats – or this one at least … is that they’re quiet and smell like goodness. (Thank you scented softeners). They smell of clean things and comforting things and calming things too.
Definitely an environment in which I can think, and clear my head and share what was in there with you.
But sometimes, I can’t share everything. There is a large part of me that doesn’t like that. But a larger part of me that’s grateful that evidently I DO have an edit button hidden in the TMI portion of myself.
Truthfully, the only time I don’t share with you is when someone else could be hurt by my honesty. I’m an open book. You ask me a question, I’ll answer it and draw a picture for you too.
But I do respect the privacy and feelings of others.
So how to go about this post?
I’ll keep the mirror on myself. And I do that a lot, I know. I hope you know that it’s not due to narcissism, rather, being trained to look at my part in things and also born of the knowledge that others deserve their confidentiality.
Things I learned this week.
Sometimes, you have to trust your gut.
When you’ve been wrong before, that doesn’t mean you’re always wrong.
I doubt myself a lot. Not when I have a thought, but when someone challenges me on the validity of that thought.
I have made large mistakes in the past, so I can’t very well not consider the possibility that I’m doing it again. Can I?
But what I need to take into account, is that I have grown a lot too. Emotionally and spiritually. I have made smart decisions for myself and my son. I have found serenity and a routine that works for me.
I also have to consider the source of the challenge. Has that person got their life in order? Do they possess the knowledge, experience and wisdom to absolutely know that I’m wrong? Especially true when it comes to thoughts or conclusions I come to about myself. And while I’m awfully close to the subject, who knows me better than me? I mean come on.
I was knocked out of my routine this weekend. I have to be honest – it was hard, but I thought, worth it to venture out of my comfort zone. I made a conscious decision to share my time with someone.
You know that feeling you have the first day out of bed after a flu? Disoriented … out of body sensation? Slightly dizzy and awkward? Yeah. Apparently when I don’t go to the grocery store and clean my house Saturday morning and instead, go out to breakfast – it results in ‘day after flu’ sensation.
Just getting my bearings back here at the laundromat. Back to the little wheel in my cage. I’ll take some time to freshen my cedar chips later and install a new salt lick.
Mercy for me – justice for others
I don’t subscribe to that.
I find myself living to the contrary. Justice for me and mercy for others.
I have a hard time accepting mercy or even believing I deserve it. I hold myself to making amends and am pretty hard on myself.
But others …
Some of this might sound a little like I’m siding with, or making excuses for some pretty awful people. Please bear with me.
I hope I can make my point well.
It breaks my heart when I hear about a young person committing a horrific crime. Yes, even Dzhokhar Tsarnaev. He’s still a teenager!
It’s a proven fact that the brain is not fully developed until aged 25.
The ‘thinking through’ process isn’t there yet. Not completely.
What he participated in is atrocious, but I can’t help but mourn the loss of his life too. A bad decision, (to put it mildly) perhaps born from peer pressure, constant teachings from someone he trusted and looked up to – has taken any future he might have had. Gone. In the blink of an eye. No do-overs.
Adults too – Consider this scenario, having gone to dinner – perhaps an impromptu celebration, someone has a glass of wine too many. They get in their car, and end up killing someone. This is was not premeditated – the person is not a murderer. I wonder about their lives before – odds are they were a great parent, gave to charity, were of service, had friends they supported, family they cared for. Their future, Gone. In another blink.
Even when I’m behind someone who’s driving erratically in front of me – I stop and think “Well, maybe they just got into an argument with a loved one, or perhaps they’re running late to work and this is the last chance before they lose their job.” I don’t get angry. I slow down. I consider there is more to the story than I’ll ever know.
But when it comes to me …
I like to think I’ve forgiven myself for the things that haunt me still. If God forgives me, I have no business not following suit. But it’s difficult.
I’ll be honest – when things go awry, there is a part of me that thinks I deserve it. The part of me that has grown so much spiritually, glares at the illogical part of me that believes this then rolls its eyes. I know better. But it is still a part of my thinking.
I pray sometimes for help forgiving myself.
I feel more for others than I do for me.
I have an obsession with the mentally ill. I’m fascinated by the ‘why’ and the ‘how’ of behaviors I don’t understand. I watch shows like Lock Up and the like, and I see a vacancy in murderers eyes. I think, they are capable of such atrocities for a reason. Probably partially born that way, then environment pushing them into the wrong direction.
What if they had love? What if they had services to treat their mental illness? How could they stand a chance without those things?
Of course, I mourn for their victims too – but I do find myself thinking about all involved.
And it’s just such a shame – and such a loss. Those men behind bars were once someone’s babies. They were small and innocent and hopeful once. Then lost. Or perhaps never stood a chance.
And if my heart can be open for them, why not for me?
Another thing to contemplate and pray on.
I had become …
Comfortably numb.
This will be a serious post.
Over 9000 people have read my words. 9000 people have in essence, read my diary.
I’m undergoing a metamorphosis of sorts. Still safe in my cocoon, but allowing myself to grow and change and take one of the dead bolts off of a door of opportunity.
I imagine I’ll emerge with fragile wings – still clinging to the husk that was my safe place for so long.
I’ll be still – and feel the winds of change around me and know that they are making me stronger – drying those wings.
I’ve been deep in thought, in my cocoon. Contemplating, pondering, analyzing, processing. This is how I do things. I do not chide myself for this.
After years of foolish abandon, how can I not believe this to be growth?
I processed Nic growing from child to man – you were there with me. Thank you.
I processed my past to some relief – you were there with me. Thank you.
Is it any wonder my profession is that of Processor? Funny, I hadn’t thought about that until just now.
I take information given to me and make sense of it. Turn it into something real – affording customers I come to adore a home.
I make it personal.
I make it personal … at work, with strangers that become friends.
Yet I still struggle with taking my personal life to another level.
I joke about becoming a cat lady – but really, I was going to be okay with that.
I had become, comfortably numb.
But, I’ve been listening to music lately. Not the radio. But, deep immersion – head phones, staring up at the night sky – feeling as though I’m on the prespicice of something. An awakening.
My heart swells and my soul warms my shell.
A new chapter is perhaps ready to be written.
And if you’re here with me – thank you.
Debauchery Soup 