Tag Archives: music

Poetry Corner – A Family Divide


Source: Poetry Corner – A Family Divide

As Mother sits in the corner, cries
We all try to hide in lies…

click above to read the entire poem

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When A Song Breaks Your Heart and Time Makes You LOVE IT


 

I am the “Momma” in this song.

The first time I heard it I felt like I had been kicked in the gut. It hurt…

Since then, due a lot to counseling and input from friends who’s parents divorced, I have come to view this song not as an attempt to hurt anyone, but instead I can simply appreciate the song for what it is; beautiful like the person who wrote it.

Momma a3579273866_2 From “Not A Hipster”

License copyright 2013 wanda june wesolowski all rights reserved

 

“Baby girl, you’d better call your momma tonight
Baby girl, tell your momma that you’re doing alright”

I don’t know where to go from here, I
Haven’t seen momma in a year
Why can’t she see I don’t wanna
Hear it, not tonight?

“Baby girl, your momma bought you something today.”
“Baby girl, don’t you have something that you wanna say?”

I don’t know if I can thank you for
Trying to make up after losing that War
Momma, buying love won’t fix us, not tonight

And I know you’re trying so hard
All the gifts & all the birthday cards
Momma, you just need to give me time to think
To grow
To blink
And know

I think I’d better call my momma tonight….

Released 01 August 2013
Tags
Tags: Parental Alienation syndrome, Divorce, child abuse, PAS, folk, independent, songwriter, ukulele, madison, alabama, Huntsville
License copyright 2013 wanda june wesolowski all rights reserved

USED with Permission

BOOK RECOMENDATION

Things I Do That Get Me Through and Other Coping Mechanisms


  Find Humor Where You Can

As you might be realizing by now, this divorce is taking a toll.  I have to come up with ways of finding humor where none really should exist:

  • One day I gave my kids permission to sing “Chuck” in the name game song (previously forbidden). Sing along now, “Chuck, duck, bo buck fee fie fo F*&#….”
  • I named my vacuum cleaner after the Step-Mom, yeah, it’s a Dyson so Jill never loses suction.
  • I remember the great times I had with my whole family, yes, even the former husband.
  • I think about the day my kids discover that they were used like pawns, fodder, just to hurt me.
  • I try to imagine the day that the Former Spouse meets St. Peter, in my imagination his making up rationalizations for his treatment of me is riotously funny.
  • I pretend I am in disguise and watching my son in a play.
  • I sing songs loudly which I dedicate to Chuck, Jill, her sister Robin, and my once monster-in-law: some great ones are
    • “Mean” by Taylor Swift and
    • “Pigs, Three Different Ones” by Pink Floyd.
  • I imagine Jill actually catches him being unfaithful.
  • but my favorite one is the one where these guys just get over hurting me and decide to work together as an extended family.

UPDATE AUGUST 29, 2016

I’m writing a documentary about Television and movies and their role in Parental Alienation.  The focus will be how society is almost encouraging the breakdown of family, and its long tern effect upon adult children.

Write me to help out please.

Moving Forward… Going Back


Play Sweet Home Alabama

Dear Reader,

I hope you will forgive my lack of attention to this blog as of late, you see, I have been going through a serious trauma completely unrelated to the subject of this blog.  After months of counselling and reliving a part of my life I wanted to bury deep, I finally see light at the end of that tunnel.  So as I near the end of that journey I am relieved and I am feeling so much better about EVERYTHING! I can’t tell you about it yet, maybe never will, yet I will say this, your past can’t be buried it must be faced and dealt with.  If you can face things rather forgotten, it is like being set free. It is like a second chance at happiness.

And now onto my Blog on Parental Alienation and Healing…

Dreams

  Let me start by recalling a dream I’ve had twice this month. Such a weird dream I have no idea what to make of it.  In the dream, Jill, my kids stepmother, is patiently and kindly, sitting next to me trying to teach me to play Vivaldi on a beautiful, shiny black, grand piano. We are both smiling, we seem happy, we seem like true friends, maybe even family. Her playing is superb and I simply love it. She has given me 3 keys to play and nods when I am meant to play them.  Together we play, together we enjoy music.   That is it; that’s the whole dream.

If any of you expert dream interpreters out there can give me your opinion of this repeated dream, I am all ears.

  Moving on

My daughter Libby is due to bring forth my 3rd grandchild in July. So far this will be the only grandchild I have even met.  I have been not only invited to be there, but told explicitly that I am wanted in the labor and delivery room.

To me this seems only fair for me to be in that room with Libby because of what happened when she attended my prenatal appointment back in 1995, when I was pregnant with her sister Wanda.  Back then she certainly got the up-close view of my pregnant reproductive parts and then some.

You see, I was at the OB/GYN and little Libby was sitting in the chair next to the door when my very English (as in Great Britain) doc came into the room in a flurry as was her style.
I was naked under paper garments, I was lying on the table feet in stirrups, and a paper sheet blocked my view of all activity below my waist.  The Doc asked me the usual questions, “How’s everything?…” and then she asked “Is it okay with you if your daughter is here for the exam?”

“Of course” I replied, my eyes fixed on the fluorescent light fixture in the ceiling.  “Okay” she said somewhat under her breath, as she proceeded to insert the speculum into my vagina.

Next thing I know I hear her talking softly and explaining… ‘this is where babies come from’, and ‘I’m just checking to see if everything with your mommy is alright’. Then I felt the tiny finger press on something reserved only for my husband and I realized that my sweet, always calm, obedient, capable of sitting still for 5 minutes, daughter (can you feel the sarcasm?)  Libby, had popped up when the doc entered and proceeded to observe and participate in my full exam.

I pretended it was normal (ha ha ha!); further I believe the Doc was glad to deviate from her solo routine of pregnant vulva inspections. Needless to say this visit to the Doc’ became one of those things I will never forget.

So I am Alabama bound in July.

I wish I could calmly state that going back has no emotional attachment, other than the excitement over the bringing of a new life into this world, but in fact I am bombarded with anticipatory emotions, pummelled with quite possibly irrational emotions and made up scenarios in which I once again am made the odd man out.

Oh don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.  Even if it means I have to hear one or more of my other children say something heartbreaking, or face a Jill who would rather drop a piano on my head than teach me to play it (Not saying that she would, just hoping she won’t).

So the excitement builds as the due date is just about a month out.

Pray for me, Dear readers.  Pray all is well for my grandchildren (every one of them), pray for my family and all of it’s new members.

Thanks for reading,

Much Love to All!

Leah

Goodbye, I love you. How can this change? {replies requested}


I Don’t Want To Leave Without Saying “Good Bye, I Love You”

  The way my ADULT children feel about me and their lack of contact with me, I can’t do a DAMN thing about.  I am trying with much difficulty to accept the things I cannot change (as the 12 steppers pray)…   Not having them in my life really hurts, but then, as we have discussed in my previous posts, that pain has a way of morphing into anger.  I find my thoughts golden and glowing brightly with love for all of my children, and then I get this urge to contact them… that urge to know them, talk to them, contact them, reminds me they will not answer, or worse, hang up and if I make that phone call I might as well go walking into a wall because I will end up hurt, (sigh) again. The thought of their rejection brings on my anger. As I start to get angry, I relive the things that I have done, and that have been done to me, and then that anger grows…  I hate the anger that exists in my psyche now.  I have never been an angry person.  I have been told by people that the one thing they recall about me growing up, was a constant smile.  That smile which is now so rare.

   Today, I was thinking about my recent bout with cancer, (this is my third bout and victory over cancer), and I thought “WHAT IF I DIE WITHOUT SEEING THEM AGAIN?”  I can’t bear this thought.  My death, could be long and arduous, or it could be a short and swift.  I don’t know how or when I will die, but I know FOR SURE that I don’t want to leave this world with my children full of animosity toward me.  I don’t want to go without them knowing I love them and never meant for this to happen to our family.  I don’t want to die without apologizing for any and all ways that I have wronged or hurt them.  I want them to know that I LOVE, Love, LOVE them so much!

   The opposing thought then invaded my busy, self defeating, thought racing, bi-polar brain.  What if one or more, of my children were to die today!?!  I would not have been allowed to say “Good bye, I love you”  they would think the horrible things they have been brainwashed to believe about me for eternity… This thought hurt me more than words can sufficiently express.

   My mind screeched, “THIS IS SO UNFAIR!”  Yes, as adults, they have free will.  They can’t be forced into any type of therapy, they can’t be made to listen to my side, or to understand a painful divorce and things that went very wrong in our marriage NEVER meant that I didn’t love them.  I have no ability to get through to them, to apologize for leaving, to show them my love.  I have lost them and with them I have lost a piece of my soul so large that I barely breathe anymore.

  I take responsibility for leaving, I do!  I still believe leaving was the only way I knew how to survive, how to deal with his post divorce treatment of me.

   My Doctor thinks an anti-depressant will help me.  I disagree. She says that people should “get up and LIVE their lives“, and I agree with her on that point.  Except when I get out there, in every crowd, every visage, every moment, I see something that makes me think of my kids and that painful anger sears my soul a little more once again.  Also, on those rare occaisions when I do “get out there“, if I find that bright childhood smile on my face I actually feel guilty.  Ridiculous I know, but it is true, I feel guilt because there are actually moments I am not thinking of them.  HOW DARE ME!

    I once told a therapist that “When shitty things happen to a person it is completely normal for that person to feel shitty.”  Well I feel beyond shitty much of the time, I feel helpless and emotionally eviscerated, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it;  OR IS THERE?

   I am open to suggestions if you, my dear readers, have any.

Would you like to know one of the things I have considered?  Well I’ll tell you.  I have considered having ECT (electro convulsive therapy) in order to obliterate these painful memories.  Erase the memory of my children from my brain, like Carey’s character in “The Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind”.  It didn’t work for him though, and I don’t really believe it would work for me.  Yet I have considered it many times.

   So what other things?  Pour myself into a project. That’s funny, I try that too, I say try because I am continuously trying to find something, anything, to keep my mind off this horrible pain.  My house is filled with project after project, some partially started, some not even out of the bag, none of them complete, because it simply did not work.

   So what else? My life has always revolved around music… that really is the one thing that even the painful intrusive thoughts can’t excise from my short repertoire of enjoyment.  Alas, I fear that the enjoyment of music might be in peril of being lost at this point in my life.  Deafness is encroaching upon my ability to understand lyrics, and I also feel it is effecting the way I sound both when I talk and sing.  Boy, do I sing. “Loud and Proud” my voice coach used to say… now I am told too frequently I am talking too loud.  I can’t imagine what people must think of my singing.

  So again, I ask, how can I move past the pain? I have been divorced for 12 years, but my youngest son only rejected me this past year. He is 17, and the loss his love, of our talks, and texts may have been just enough to really damage me.  FUBAR!

  Can I reach out to them somehow, show them that what they have been lead to believe is false?  HOW?

   “Back off” my friends say, “they will eventually come around“.

 What if they miraculously do come around and I am already dead?

Leah