Often I sit and sulk in the things I want to change but can’t. One of those being the men I chose to make children with. Seeing a post by one of the kids about the pain and regression they have over their fathers is painful. I don’t understand how they can see and not want to move heaven and earth to fix things. It’s beyond anything I can grasp to ignore your children’s cry’s for your attention.
Not that I myself feel I am the parent I need to be. Always striving for better wanting to be better for the only little lives that have ever mattered in mine. However I am ever present and trying. That never changes.
With the fathers they have always been counting down the time till their responsibility legally ends. Can you imagine a mindset that tells you at this age you are no longer a parent? Or responsible as such? I’m always begging mine to stay close. Stay home even for as long as you’d like. Lets build our dreams together and help each other.
As my middle daughter turns 17 on Monday I’ve heard her murmur just one more year more times than I can count. She isn’t counting down the days till adult. There is no rush for her. She is counting what her father has counted to her every year he has made an appearance. Which isn’t many so it’s really settled in her mind. The counting till he emancipates himself from being responsible for her.
Clare knows this is something her bio dad has been longing for for years. She is his last baby with me. The last of the ties and responsibility that bonds us I guess. Not that him and I speak or acknowledge each other. After all he is my childhood abuser!
Hailey deep into college psychology now is seeing all of the pain for what it is. Seeing how much he put her through for more of what it was than the little girl eyes she seen him through as a child. Her emotions so much like those I’ve felt my entire life.
Working so hard the last 20 years to face my own abuser to make it possible for him to parent the children he gave me. None of it did any good. The times I provided him groceries. Moved him and his wife closer to my kids to be involved. Looking back now I wonder had I never pushed him to be around the very little he was would it have been better?
Would his presence not existed if I didn’t fight for child support? Would no presence been better than the visits telling them he couldn’t wait till he didn’t have to support or be responsible for them? His words and actions were always so painful for my kids yet I was always pushing for the presence.
I wish that I had the power to change the things that felt so out of my control throughout their lives. Given them a better version of myself. Fathers who worshipped the ground they walked on…. But there isn’t a thing I can do. I read the post my little girls make of the pain they hold due to the men I let in my bed and all I am able to do is cry.