- You know...it does seem to be helping so far. I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop (systemically), but. Seeing pictures of you brings it together. You are happy! You are living what appears to be a great life. And now I kind of know what's going on. And I feel peaceful about that. Happy even? Dude. You're so happy! At the risk of sounding Gen Alpha - I love that for you. I still wish I could talk to you about life, but the pictures really solidify why that's not an option.
- Listening to podcasts about CPTSD, insecure attachment, and limerence have been helping, as well. Shout out to the Crappy Childhood Fairy!
- Anyway. Moving the upstairs around has been a bit of a rodeo, but probably...one more day? And it'll be sorted. Plus S is in Kodiak Monday and Tuesday, so that means I can probably use his truck while he's gone and haul a whole bunch of stuff to the dump. The rest is going to Buy Nothing groups or getting semi-organized into the new study.
- I've felt like a bit of a stepmonster this summer, and while there are certainly reasons for that (see most of the previous entries and imagine the emotional fallout that definitely expressed itself in some inappropriate ways) that doesn't make it okay. So I feel guilty about uprooting the boys' room and shunting them downstairs and into the study. They're 13 and 11 now, and the hardest thing for me (for reasons that are completely resultant of my own personal experiences) is that they're always on their phones and/or just hole up in their room until noon or 1:00 PM unless the internet is turned off. Do I feel like an asshole for rooting them out of their rooms early when they haven't gotten to sleep until 2:00 AM? Or do I feel like an asshole just...doing my damn stat homework and letting them do whatever until they have to come out but that still involving rooting them out and throwing them into the car...at which time they're still on their phones.... See? I feel like a total asshole no matter what. When they were smaller it was easier in some ways. Harder in others. But I'm not looking forward to when L hits tween-hood. Maybe I'll have more coping skills by then.
- But, so, the hope is that they'll be at least a little more likely to a) get to sleep earlier b) emerge more regularly c) have a built-in staging area for spending time with their dad. But I still feel like I've set their den on fire. And I don't know what the fuck to do with all the clothes they didn't take (most of them) or the toys and arsenals that remain. I mean, they'll end up in the office, one hundred percent, but a large part of me wants to send the guns to Texas. They barely get any use anyway. I know, I know. They still care, they just might not show it explicitly, they don't have the organization or regulation skills and the phones and hiding are a regulatory mechanism, etc., etc. Well, it still sucks. And it's not something I can fix.
- Plus, if we do move? Or if things...do continue to deteriorate.... Things will need to be in a place where they can be stored, moved - whatever needs to happen.
- Anyway, bye. Dropping S off at the airport tomorrow morning. 5:00 AM - woo!
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