Empty Bed, Full Heart- A Single Mother's Journey

Well, I've finally decided. I want to be happy. It's time for me to stop living to get to the end of the day, which has, quite frankly, been my mantra for the last, um, three years? Just make it to the end of the day, just make it to the end of the day, just make it to the end of the day....and then what? The next day would start over, and I would feel just as empty and just as tired as I had the day before. Joy hasn't been a part of my life since I can't even remember when. The last time I felt joy were just little bursts, small moments, when I was with baby boy's dad, at the beginning, and they were littered between regret and guilt and rejection. Perhaps that's why I was (and still sometimes am) so hesitant to let him go. My psychologist called it "rain on a desert", but I need to stop thinking that the only way to get the relief of a downpour is from another cloud. (That was an awkward analogy, but I'm keeping it.) No, I must be my own little ...

I remember the feeling of apathy. I remember well the sensation of not caring about anything, interspersed with feelings of excruciating sadness and fatigue that would erupt seemingly out of nowhere. But, in a way, the apathy was familiar. I'd accepted it and, in a way, become accustomed to it. What kept me from leaving for so long was first the expectation that there was no way out, but second, the fear of the unknown. What would happen if I left? I knew what life held for me if I stayed, and it was misery, but at least I knew. In a lot of ways, the worst case scenario played out because I had an ex who was willing to go further than I was; who was more willing than I to cause pain to accomplish his goals and do what was in his best interest. Maybe that just makes me stupid. The biggest thing was the fear. When I met my little boy's father, I instantly recognized that fear in him, too. We were both standing on the edge of the life we had known for many years, the comfort an...

It's been a while since I last posted. I got a new job and have been scrambling to keep up with everything. A million things, hyperbolically speaking, have happened since then, but none of it matters much. That's a lie. Of course it matters. It matters that I am still in love with ideas that are dead and gone. It matters that I feel isolated and alone. It matters that I feel like I'm pushing away the few friends I have. It matters that every day I fear that my ex was right when he said my daughters would be better off without me. It matters that the harassment continues in every correspondence and chips away at me little by little, the way that he's perfected over the years. It matters. But it also matters that my little girl tells me that she thinks I'm beautiful. It matters that I get to snuggle in bed with three precious children who give my heart a reason to keep on beating. It matters, especially to me, the days when I can do it on my own. Last week, I was i...

The hardest part is the loneliness. When I was in elementary school, I was made fun of. A lot. I was often the butt of jokes, which taught me to smile when I wanted to cry and laugh when I wanted to yell. At school, I was surrounded by kids but I always felt alone. When I got married, I got busier than normal. I was now responsible for a household, bills, and finishing school and if I had any free time, it was usually spent at home. My ex and I would argue any time I wanted to go out without him because he felt excluded. I was isolated, but thought it was ok because I was at least with him. And then my oldest daughter was born and I suddenly realized I didn't have the time or energy to parent both my husband and my daughter. I asked him for help. He instead chose to start an affair. Afterwards, he "came back" to me, but I still felt alone. One of the more telling things he said during this whole ordeal was to his mistress: "I don't care if I lose Becki, but I do...

Today I went to my cousin's basketball game at the Y. It was pretty intense 4 on 4 (actually 3/3 because the other team had a player missing) and afterward my uncle, who is also the coach, spent about 20 minutes giving my cousin tips on how to improve his game. Little H was snuggled peacefully next to my chest. Often it occurs to me that I love him very intensely, that I'll nurture him and care for him, and that I will be a fantastic mother for him.... but I can never be his dad. I can never teach him the best stance for dribbling and shooting, how to properly hold a bat or the best way to run a football down the field. Even if he takes interest in music and theater and speech, my pep talks and tips will never mean as much to him as they would coming from a father. That father/son bond can't exist between us because I simply can't relate in that intimate way. Part of this process is letting go of things I can't control. I just need to do my best, surround him with...

When I was little, we used to watch the TV Chipmunk Christmas special that my parents had recorded on VHS. In it, Alvin has a dream and yells out in his sleep, "Money! I need money!" I feel you, Alvin. For nearly a year, with the exception of December, I have been solely responsible for paying the daycare costs of my daughters. Their dad refused to help. After all, it serves me right for filing for divorce. Now I have a new baby and more expenses. But money isn't really my only problem. I was raised to be self reliant. The idea of depending on another person to take care of my needs, at my very core, terrifies me and outwardly makes me feel like a failure. When my oldest daughter wanted a TV for the apartment, I told her we couldn't afford it. She quipped, "It's Ok. Grandma will get us one" and I died a little bit inside. My children should be able to look to me if they need something and know that I can provide it. So yesterday I applied for a part t...

I had a decision to make. 9 months ago, the most terrifying thing I could imagine happening to me happened. I got pregnant. It wasn't the first time. After all, I already had two little girls who I love with all my heart. And I love babies. They are miracles. They are gifts. They are beautiful. I was in the midst of a painful and tumultuous divorce and I became pregnant out of stupidity and recklessness. It was the worst possible scenario I could imagine. So I had a decision to make. Adoption seemed like the only way. It would be a penance, I thought. I would give up this precious gift. He was unplanned, but I always wanted a little boy. I knew the second I found out that I was pregnant that he would be a boy. I knew more out of cynicism and bitterness. It would hurt more if it was a boy, so I was certain it would be. I was right. We chose a couple, who are two of the most lovely people I've ever met. I distanced myself as much from my womb as I could. I didn't think...

Sometimes the little things come up and get to me, break me down into an emotional pile of sap. A commercial on TV. A song on the radio. A mention of a person, place or thing. Today it was a lame Disney channel show of all things. Really. That happened. It's humorously sad (or pathetic or whatever adjective you would like to use) to hear a cheesy line like, "I can't say good-bye" and know that the next line is going to be, "Then let's just say 'see you later'." because you have actually uttered those words sincerely to someone in the last month. Maybe I should have a career writing for Disney. Apparently, that's just how silly/ridiculous my life has been. My real dialogue with others mirrors Disney channel rubbish. The point to this story is that I was hoping I could just move on. My divorce was finalized on Tuesday and I hoped that it would give me a renewed sense of freedom. Unfortunately, human emotion doesn't work that way. I gue...

My Story (so far) About a year ago, I started a journey. It wasn't a journey I had ever expected to take. It was the perilous path to single motherhood. We all have our dreams and ideals of what our life is going to be. Like everyone else, I was trying to follow the road that would lead to that picture perfect life. Every step I took at that time was carefully chosen; but I was so busy watching my feet that I lost myself in the woods and found myself having to rely not on the world as I thought I knew it, but on my own intuition. This journey is a journey about self-reliance. It's a journey about discovering what I was made of. It's a journey filled with doubt, fear, uncertainty, and powerlessness. But in the end, I hope to find a new sense of happiness and fulfillment. This is the journey of a single mother. I've started this blog as a kind of therapy. As a child, I would spend hours writing when I couldn't sleep, and sleeplessness has become a regular part of...