Golden Circles

There are things in life we just don’t get right. Life is heartbreaking in all the ways it can fall apart.

Yet, even the worst times eventually fade to something else. Grief is still grief. Pain is still pain. Shame is still shame. Yet, inevitably time passes and joy sneaks back in. Always.

Sometimes, because there is magic in the world, you, without realizing it, become a north star. A landmark for others to follow as they work through the same hard times you found your way out of.

Yet, sometimes, time simply doesn’t fix things. Which is hard to accept gracefully if you are a fixer by nature. Harder still when life has taught you that terrible times lead to better ones. Honestly, the idea that something being beyond help is a hard fucking one to swallow when you know just on the other side is something better for everyone.

Yet, the universe keep bringing this thing I can’t help back to my lap again and again. Listen, dear Universe, I don’t understand what you are trying to lead me to.

When I don’t know something, I usually look for a north star to follow. I haven’t found the right one yet. I’ve tried a few voices. I’ve read and listened and given it time.

Today, while looking for a story Elizabeth Gilbert had posted about a person in a deep hole and wispy strands, I found something else talking about what we make sacred:

Things go sideways the minute Match asks me to cross my boundaries. I can’t fix that. Yet, I can stop saying yes to when he asks me to though.

I didn’t start off with a golden circle. I came to this place open.

Yet, in over ten years, a lot has happened. Bridges burned down and grievances aired and so many things. Sometimes, to make sense of it, I make lists:

Some of it I can’t fix:

I can’t fix that being blended is hard and my existence creates conflicts that wouldn’t be there in the same way.

I can’t fix that a stocking with a name was upsetting.

I can’t fix that things coming home were upsetting.

I can’t fix that warning someone of emotional bombs is impossible to achieve.

I can’t fix that big decisions that impact us all are made emotionally by her.

I can’t help that in the story she tells herself that I hate her or that I’m telling her what to do or that Match clearly just does my bidding.

I can’t help someone who is convinced you are lying when you just aren’t.

Things I can do:

I can recognize that the emotional yo-yo’ing is too hard. I can’t be in a circle and then out of it. I much rather just be in, but without being able to trust, I much rather just be out.

I can know, that while this is hard, challenge filled, and uncomfortable, that neither Match nor myself are bad or dangerous. When the wind blows that way for her, it just isn’t true. Our family, despite the inconvenience to their life that runs parallels to ours’s– is not a liability in H’s life. Just like their life can be an inconvenience to ours it still has merit.

I can know, that despite the guilt that I make her upset and the sense of failure that I can’t fix this, that her behaviors have earned the space I have taken.

I do not have to engage–via anything at this point– with:

The woman who yelled and accused us of withholding water for the daughter we all share at a public park for a chorus performance.

With the person who in the same weekend, wouldn’t provide a school uniform shirt for a school event on our weekend, but then needs directions to a place we’ve also never been while imploring we “do the right thing.”

With the one who counts pictures on walls as a way to measure equity.

With a person who calls you sick dicks.

To one who parks in the driveway, often in my parking spot, despite curbside being explicit.

To one who bombs down the street beeping, parking with the car running in the middle of the road, standing in the road for a pick up.

To the one who calls about milkshakes as if none of this has happened.

To the one who opens doors to other peoples car doors.

To the one who says coffee was thrown “at her”… when it was just simply thrown.

To the one who thinks not being on time for school means a child is less important.

To the one who demanded proof of tickets. To one who demanded proof of flight. Yet, misleads on their comings and goings.

To the one who thinks not “sticking to the plan” in a blizzard when their flight is delayed is the same as kidnapping.

To the one who declared Match would definitely get COVID–which has yet to happen– and chose everything else in a crisis except keeping visitation intact so H could have both her parents when the world was wonky.

To the one who rather H have less family than acknowledge she shares mine.

To the one who rather gaslight their kid into thinking she’ll miss out of back to school stories over vacation with my family because my emails make her upset.

To the one who pleaded for us to wait on a cell phone to make a decision together… and just gets one because fuck keeping her word or dealing with H’s father.

To the one who is upset the kid who was six month older didn’t get a cell phone first. But the one with the addict Dad and walking to school alone did.

To the one who was out of line, but sorry because she had her period and was bitchy.

To the one who, on the face of three weeks, rather pick a fight and a loose excuse to have their kid not come for the three weeks. We bought a car, but being unable to agree on mutual pick up is the reason instead that elementary student went to college and we couldn’t take her the remaining time unless we paid for a mystery camp.

To the one who’s convinced herself that Match was cool with their kid flying solo to Europe to meet her until I had thoughts and feelings about it. I wish relationships worked magic like that.

For the one who called to say the kid who passed out still seemed a little out of it, but didn’t like the suggestion that she stay home form camp so much, she refused to answer the phone about their kid’s well being. And wouldn’t provide a number to camp. And left Match in limbo without access to the wellbeing of his kid.

To the one who tells their child to lie about a cell phone password to their other parents instead of work through the issue like normal adults.

To the one who thinks transitions being hard is the fault on one household.

To the one who asks other people for pray for the kid when she’s at your house.

To the one who calls, at pick up time, but is hardly on time for your parenting time. In fact respects the parenting time so little, she decided to stop for ice cream and lets the tween walk in with the evidence to use your trash to throw away McFlurries. As if it wasn’t enough to just be close to thirty minutes late, she had to parade the disrespect she has of your limited time with the kid you share and cause a headache with the kids that didn’t get McDonald’s rather than just take care of your own trash.

To the one who talks about wanting values respected and traditions, but not explaining what those are and consistently changing them.

To the one who ask Match to put a mask on his birthday trying to be nice on some level by bringing a present by with H, but inevitably causes stress and awkwardness and makes him late for his own family dinner. Instead of just letting H come to dinner. Yet, can hug my kids without a mask because that’s fine.

The one who cancels a visit the one Tuesday Match has his birthday and his visit because H is with a friend.

The one who gives bags of old clothes for hand me downs, but also filled with things not belonging to H like my time means so little that I’m to sort those too.

To the one who calls meetings about familiar terms.

To the one who calls you up and says, “You talk shit about me to H,” but won’t explain what that means.

The one who changes Math Circle Zoom times with H, but without telling the other parents about the change on their parenting time, so that you plan a loud playdate during them.

To the one who invites you to things on times that work for her and H, but doesn’t understand those times could never work for you and thinks that half measure is inclusive.

I am allowed to not feel safe with her.

Listen– I tried. I tried a lot of things. Yet at the end of the day, I can not have her in my life. She did not treat my family as sacred and her needs to feel respected are too varied, too plentiful, and too demanding to ever be achieved. She does not know how to be loyal or to act in love here.

I drew a golden circle around my time, breaking bread, and my children from the person who did these things. Because, in the relationship she has with me. she is not safe, she does not respect us, and she makes emotional decisions that are painful.

I try very hard to keep it these lines place because my home and my time is sacred. I can not change the story she tells herself. I can not fix how I make her feel. I can’t fix how the way she behaves. I can’t fix the fact I am unable to forget these things that have been done. I can’t fix that that her version of respect is not one I find acceptable.

I can say with confidence, I have not tread on her life or values or time or efforts in anyway that’s included above. I write emails and I set expectations that have limitations and I try very hard to do so with her home being sacred and equal in importance as ours.

I don’t know why the universe keeps putting us back in the same spot. However, I know I’m never going to get it right. I just have to walk away and stay away unless, one day, the universe leads us to a place the list stops growing.