Ahhhh...good morning, Barb. I loved your post last night; in fact, I almost logged on anyway (feeling like I did) and wrote back, because you made me lol with "so I called Bobby at the garage..." - I was giggling at the first-name-basis thing before you even mentioned it. :-) Also, it just cracks me up that even though you had full, grown-up validation from the GWDAMD, you still called your "real" dad - hilarious!
And thanks for the smiles, late last night, when I debated between wine and Ambien, worried that both might land me in the morgue tomorrow (and then what would JJ do?), Finally, I chose neither. I went to bed at 10:00 or so, slept well, surprisingly, and woke up fairly high-functioning this morning. I'm sure you don't need the whole play-by-play that resulted in M sliding by me on his longboard, bundled in layered "street clothes" and carrying an overstuffed duffle bag, as I walked to the bus stop to get JJ on Tuesday. I can't even muster up the energy to go through it again (because, as you know, I've gone over every word and hand gesture and intonation about 150 times now in my head). I'm inclined to think that my screaming, "Get the f*** out of my house!" may have been a catalyst for his leaving, but one can never be sure. How much can I beat myself up about it? I was livid; I was beyond livid, I was the Amanda who was married to K: crazy and out of my mind and body, flailing my arms and, literally, screaming at the top of my lungs. Cuss words flying - such a hypocrite - God it was ugly.
And then I left the house with a ceremonial door slam, and threw myself on K's couch in a flood of tears. I had only a few minutes before JJ got home, so I really needed to compose myself; she let me breathe and not talk about it, and pretend that it wasn't that big of a deal. And when I got up and opened the front door to leave, there went M, on his longboard. T, across the street and, yells "Hey, M! Running away again?" If I hadn't been in such a state, I'd have laughed my a** off.
It all got worse when I tried to call J, to tell him what was going on, and he didn't answer his phone. This is a point of contention with me on a daily basis: 1) that we don't chit-chat during the day and b) if I do call, I usually don't get an anwswer and frequently don't get a call back. (When JJ fell off his skateboard last week, I called J first thing; he didn't answer. He only knew to come home when the tones went off in the station for an injured child at his own address. ) All I wanted to do was to keep this thing going, this thing we'd established over the past couple of days where we were talking to each other and kind of expressing a need for each other. I just wanted to reach out and say "Hey, this is happening and I'm ok but I want to share it with you". But I couldn't do that, and he didn't even bother to call me back.
By the time he got home at 5:30, all proud of himself for being home "early", I was worn out. Worn out from crying, and trying not to. Worn out with anger and frustration and resignation, with putting all my energy into being a good, normal Mom to JJ, and making sure he didn't sense that anything was terribly wrong. J asked where the boys were and I said that as far as I knew, M had run away again. "Oh, really? What happened this time?" he asked, irritated. All I could manage to say, before I burst into tears and ran upstairs, was "I don't know. I tried to call you when it was happening but you didn't answer."
Later, he said "I'm sorry I didn't answer, I had no idea that was going on." Well duh, you freakin' idiot. How would you? How would you have any idea whatsoever what is going on in this family since you don't spend any time in it????
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I can't get all worked up again; this is so counter-productive. I haven't been paralyzed by this, nor have I sunk into a depression over it. I've over-busied myself instead, not giving myself more than five minutes in the house without a specific task to accomplish. I've been running - literally and figuratively, at the gym, to the store. Tidying up errands that have grown cobwebs on my to-do list. Washing all the sheets on every bed. Taking the bottle bins to recycling. Calling my mother.
I don't know what to do and I'm not really sure who to ask for help. I would give anything for someone to just tell me what I'm supposed to do that will have the best possible outcome. I made an appointment with MC today because I thought that might be a good place to start looking for answers. We'll see.
Right now, I'm going to try to use some of the inspiration I gleaNed from you this morning and write elsewhere for a bit. MC's office is near TJ's so I'm going to treat myself to a visit after my session, and maybe lunch at The Rock, a pizza joint next door with a killer lunch special.
All I have to say is thank god for prozac.
Love you and thanks for listening, as always,
A
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