I tossed and turned all night. Mark and Wendy had come over, and we had wine and cheese and such, and it just upset my stomach, and I felt like shit. Add to that the fact that I was stewing about all of the tensions and utter contemptuous and downright emotionally abusive nature of how Tommy's been treating me again. I've avoided him, and he's avoided me for about three days. Still, the whole situation has become completely unbearable. I've also been building up frustration over the fact that the fucking Soda Machine remains in my garage, blocking the space I need for the next phase of moving in, and anticipating I was going to be dealing with delays and rude, dismissive responses to asking that it be addressed. Sleep-deprived and angry, I was lying in bed after Jen got up, and he walked in without knocking and proceeded to walk to her side of the room. I asked what he was doing, and he said, "none of your business," and that was all it took. It is my business; it's my room. So the arguments ensued, and I told him repeatedly to get out and repeatedly that "we're done." A stance that's taking every ounce of my being to stand firm on, and it's killing me. But as was later stated in an exchange at Panorama, he doesn't like me, doesn't respect me, doesn't trust me and doesn't value me. Why would I want a relationship with anybody that takes that stance? And whatever, ever did I do to deserve such extreme seething disdain? My life for 18+ years has been structured around them. I gave up so much to attend to their needs, and until the past year+, I was in relatively good standing as far as rapport goes, but it was always tainted by an undercurrent of dismissive disregard and entitlement. Now it's at its worst ever, and all I can do to guard my sanity and shattered heart is look at the son I once felt such a connection to and wanted the best for and insist that there's no chance left to resolve our issues. In hindsight, perhaps this AM was a point at which things might have gone differently, but at the same time, it's part of the routine that isn't breaking. I'm treated like shit, held accountable for snapping after taking it until I hit a breaking point, then silence, then I pursue some resolution, or perhaps he makes a gesture, and we're good again until the next time. I can't take it. I don't deserve it. I want him to feel loved and wanted, but if he comes home and calls me names and treats me like shit on his shoes, that's not love. That's not family. That's pure dysfunctional abuse. So that's been my day, and it's killing me again. I miss my relationship with my son, that's gradually dissolved into this nightmare. He expressed being "filled with remorse" over his mom's death and how poorly he treated her, and I said I understood his feelings and frustrations but that he's doing the same if not worse with me and only setting himself up for exponential regret. It's like the "chain" scrooge forged all those years alongside and beyond Marly's death. Tommy's setting himself up for many regrets and a lot of rationalization, too, I bet. I know he hates me for having left him at Panorama with his mom. I hate myself for it too. I regret it deeply, as it never occurred to me that she's put all that onto him. It's something I wish I could undo. I've apologized repeatedly, but it keeps coming up, and I keep forgetting that I can't expect an 18yr older to have the presence of mind to understand things beyond their own limited life experience. This is more painful than his mom's passing or my own mom's eventual passing. This is leaving a hole I can't quickly or likely ever fill. Shit, I just spilled my guts; this wasn't supposed to be a long blog entry, just a simple update. But maybe this is just where these writings need to go. As for the rest of the day, Jen and I got a lot done at Panorama. She painted more, I consolidated things kept for the kids, and we got the bookcase moved into position and partially stocked. It's a conflicting step. That bookcase is an heirloom on her mother's side, and I want it kept for the kids to have. There's only one. There used to be two, as her sister Barbara had the other, but that has apparently since been sold. This is one of the very few items the kids will have later. They don't seem to care right now, but Jen was saying that seeing it in our home with some of their mom's family items and theirs and ours might bridge that transition and make this something one or the other will be happy to have. Like the grandfather clock. It's challenging to set aside my apprehension about having these in the home when they were part of her and our home together. I wanted a completely fresh start. But with enough fresh start elsewhere, this might work out well. It's hard, too, after this past year to be putting any thought or hope into anything of a 'future' when I've learned how uncertain any future is. That, too, is a good lesson to keep in mind when it comes to both tolerating cases of abuse and not setting a tone of irreconcilable differences.
📊 seven-day averages: ⚖️ 160.2 lbs,❤️ 59.2 bpm, 👣 5009.2 steps, 🧘🏼7 min