KG's Hideaway

9-26-05 7:00am

Consider this fair warning. This is long, extremely personal and warped. If you decide to go ahead and read this despite the warning, there are two things you need to know; Skip is my brother and Rusti is my sister (didn't see that one coming, did ya?) I know... leave it alone. Seriously, the last couple of months have been the worst I have EVER been emotionally. This is to include the 14 years of my first marriage. 14 fucking miserable years. Right outta high school. Dumbass. Anyway, the name thing really will throw you if you don't know my family. Rusti, is a girl named for a boy (my uncle who died while my mom was pregnant with her). Ryan is my daughter, not named for a boy, but still chosen by my mother. It occurred to me just now (I swear, just now) that my mom must have a "thing" for girls with boys names because my name isn't really, Kristi. It's Kristian... another boys name, though my father chose it. Skip, is short for Skipper, which was just a nickname my dad chose to avoid confusion since they both had the same name. You'd think this should really BE my post, but it isn't. Not even close. And so, it begins...(que the curtain!)

It finally hit me... none of it really matters. I'm not sure why I haven't seen it before, and I'm not sure why it's so clear to me now, but none of this matters.

When Skip called me Friday night, he questioned whether this "fit" I'm throwing is just me still trying to "be the victim." Why I "let Austin call and talk to Mom that way" and why "I've tainted the kids' view of Rusti and Mom." I explained my view to him and whether we agree or not, we reached what I'd call an understanding. After two hours of crying with him on the phone and several more hours sitting with Craig and crying till there was nothing left, I was finally able to start wrapping my mind around all of it. I guess Rusti thought her phone call on Saturday would be a revelation, but fortunately Austin had come clean to Craig while I was on the phone with Skip. He told Craig that he had always thought that the fight between me and Rusti was stupid (it is) and he had fun with Rusti. So that left me, the one who disciplined him and restricted him, jockeying for position in his mind with Rusti. Someone he could hang with and have basically no restrictions. As Craig pointed out to Skip, and Skip agreed, that's not a tough decision in a kids mind. I didn't know it at the time, because I had taken my mother's advice and started keeping the kids away. (Don't you remember, Mother, telling me that it was foolish to let my children spend any time with someone who professes that I am their worst enemy? Actually, what you told me is that you had told Rusti that... just so there's no confusion) This will be the ONE thing I come back to. I think... it's early in the letter, and I am ADD after all.

So Friday, Austin confessed that "Grandma had called him and told him to come to Rusti's house. He did it, with Mom and Rusti agreeing they wouldn't tell me that he'd come over so long as he didn't tell me she was getting a divorce. Rusti, in her infinite wisdom, called on Saturday to point out that since I'd been so busy calling everyone a liar, I might as well know that Austin was lying to me. It might have been a blow to me 24 hours earlier, and it might have been a big one... as it was, it did nothing. (I'm still not sure what her point was, though, because, as she pointed out, I WAS calling everyone else a liar. And technically he falls into the "everyone else" category.) He told Craig that it finally made sense to him why we kept him away from Rusti and that he was sorry he didn't understand it sooner. My husband, with the patience of Job, told him that he wasn't supposed to understand it. He'd have to see it first hand and make a decision for himself. Admittedly, I probably wouldn't have said anything close to that. He told us then that the madness surrounding the situation with Rusti, Mom and I was too much and he didn't like the way I was treated. Maybe he was trying to buy some leeway here, who knows, but I can tell you one thing... there is NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING in the world that I could ever say to him to force him to call and leave a message, or talk to either of you the way he did on Friday. If I held a gun to his head, he wouldn't have done it. You two were the only people in the world Austin could count on, at one time in his life. He knew, and knows, that I love him and would do anything in the world for him, but there was a time when I couldn't help myself... I'm not even sure I knew I needed help at that point. But you two were always there... always. And all he sees now is hate and rage. What a horrible lesson to learn at 18. For anyone to think I could have made that call happen is an insult to Austin. Give him some credit. At the same time, he knows that he shouldn't have used that language with Mom but I'll chalk that up to being 18 and furious... and protecting his mother. If either of you say you wouldn't have reacted similarly (and I don't mean exact language) if someone was upsetting your mother and you felt they were under attack, I wouldn't believe you. Enough with that. In many ways, the opinions we now have of Mom and Rusti would have benefited if we'd gone on believing it was Philip that had told him. It seems much crueler to him to know that after all of it, all it took was a shitty message from him to have Rusti rat him out. It also explains alot about his behavior, both when I first questioned about Rusti getting a divorce and when all of this came to light. (I DO think it's important to note that Rusti seems stuck on the issue that it is none of my business that she is divorced. She is right, but that was never what I was upset about so it's really a moot point. Other than feeling that Rusti and Mom acted dishonorably in the situation (inviting Austin over) I have no issue with Rusti. Isn't that strange? Even her phone call just had me saying, "Ok" and "you're right" to her. It was pointless.

So I'm driving back from Dallas today after Ryan's basketball practice, going 80 mph (in a construction zone) with the music loud enough to drown out any thoughts. I was surrounded in traffic by 18 wheelers and the road takes a sudden jog to the left... in a very narrow lane. And all of a sudden, it was just there. Out of nowhere. I haven't been happy since shortly after moving back from California. I wasn't happy before I moved to California. I WAS happy in California. Why hadn't I seen that before? When I was 2000 miles away from my family, I was happy. I was miserable... because I was 2000 away from my family. But I was happy. For almost 5 years I have stuffed handfuls of pills in my mouth on a daily basis to take away the pain. For a while, it really was my back. Often, it still is. But it's not every day. But I medicated, every day all day long. With drugs and food. Just like before.

But as I thought of the "big picture" it just didn't matter. All of this crap with my family, the people that I "say" I love... is pointless. I have wasted too much time and energy on it, and so has everyone else. I'm not blaming anyone at all for how I feel. My feelings are mine, and mine alone and I'll take responsibility for them. It doesn't change what anyone has done, but I've chosen how it affected me, and I'm choosing a different path today. Just typing that line makes me smile. It seems silly, but it's true. I got in my truck to go drive around at 2:50 this morning, and this is what I've come to. It doesn't matter. Maybe it was Skip questioning my "victim status"... I got to thinking, maybe I AM getting something out of being the victim. I don't know. Again, it doesn't change what anyone has done but I have to claim my own response. So then I started thinking about what other people are getting out of their roles in this, and I realized that I had to stop there or I'd be right back in the cycle.

There is only one thing at this point that I am struggling with, and it's more for Austin than myself. Mom's involvement in getting Austin to come around Rusti and to do it behind my back. He chose that lie, and he's paying for it. (Emotionally. He's not in any trouble.) And even though he 'fessed up Friday night, Mom and Rusti have completely burned any hope of a bridge with him. That hurts me... for him. Ryan is still trying to figure it all out and I just hope to God she never really has to. So here's where I stand, if anyone cares; My anger is gone (Craig's isn't, and won't be) and I'm going to have to face the hurt and deal with it. Austin, so long as he is on a cell phone I pay for and requests this, is off limits. He's made it clear to all of you not to call him now, so that shouldn't be a question. As I've often said about the situation with Rusti, I'll never close the door but I'm definitely walking out of the room. The situation with this family is far too big for any one person to be at fault. I've never seen a family more fractured than ours, and that's sad because I truly believe there is alot of love. Who knows where any of us went wrong... The four of you seem to be fine on your own, so I'm just going to leave it that way. That's not meant to sound like a martyr, though I suppose it does. I've made my peace with Skip and as far as I'm concerned, it's between he and I.

Ryan came in our room tonight to watch the season premier of Desperate Housewives. There was a commercial on about a new movie coming out called "In Her Shoes". It's about two sisters. One who's got it all together, and the other is a total basket case. The commercial plays a voice over of the sister played by Toni Collette saying, "You'd dump me if I didn't throw her out. But she's my sister, and without her I am lost." (or something close to that) And when I heard that I was struck with the most profound sense of sadness. True, deep sadness. It hit me harder than even some deaths in the family, and it was so quick and so sharp, so unexpected that I almost couldn't breathe. I guess I made some kind of sound that made Ryan turn and look at me, and it scared her. She thought Craig must have said something because he walked out of the room right about the time that part of the commercial played, but all I could do was shake my head. I was hiding my face from her so that she couldn't see. But my ever-emotional daughter caught on quick, and as she saw the tears pouring down my face, realized exactly what it was. I'm proud to say that it made her tear up, too. It took me several minutes to get it under control, and I was proud too that she knew I wasn't crying because of anything but sadness. Not anger, or even hurt feelings from anything ANYone else had done. I think I mentioned in either one of the letters or email about Rusti's comment to me that she's never felt like she had a sister. Me either. So worse than something lost, it was something never found. Just left somewhere beside the road, kicked around by all the other passing cars, and eventually picked up by some prisoner on highway trash detail. That is Rusti and I in a nutshell. Maybe all Rusti and I have been doing is feeling like we had to stay on that highway, because if you get off the highway, the one road that's well lit even through the darkest hours of the night, the only road you may REALLY know is safe, you get lost. Sometimes those back roads go nowhere... and who wants to go there? Maybe I just felt like doing some creative writing and all of this is just something I should donate to Austin for his English paper... ya think? On any given day, it could be any given reason.

But going back to me as the victim; it just dawned on me. On October 5th, I will have my 16th surgical procedure (keep in mind, that's including all the stuff with the miscarriages... blah, blah blah) and I'm looking forward to it. Why in the world would anyone LIKE having surgery? Because people treat you differently. And there, finally, it is. I probably should have caught on years ago when Craig noticed that he could detect my moods by the music I was listening to. It might be country, rock, rap, classical, contemporary, hip-hop... or the kids' most detested, the Carpenters. Do you know when I listen to the Carpenters? When I'm thinking about my mother. Do you remember when Dad would play the guitar and Mom would sing, "Leaving on a Jet Plane" (I know, Peter, Paul and Mary, not Carpenters, but this also just popped into my head) I would run out of the room crying? I always loved hearing Mom sing, almost as much as Dad. But she'd sing that song and even as a four and five year old, it was so painful to hear. I can remember sitting on the driveway with Dad playing his guitar or riding with him in Silver and me singing along with him to "The Window Up Above" and I don't know why that song didn't make me cry. It's just as sad, and maybe I didn't really "get it" because I remember Dad explaining to me what the song was about, but even today it doesn't hit me as hard. Anyway, back to my moods. I think I get music because it's all either tragic or perfect. There's never a song about a normal day. Ever. If there is one, I've never heard it. Or maybe I just turned that one off. So that leads me to believe that I must seek out perfection and tragedy. Never normal. That would also apply to my relationships with the two of you. With Dad, I saw it as perfect. Whether it was or not is beside the point. I saw it that way. Even when he was mad or whatever, it was still ok. I only remember a few times that it was ok with Mom. Again, whether or not that's reality, is beside the point. (What we each hear, see or think, even if it's false, is still our own reality) Think about it. My mother played softball. Very well. What did I do as a 4 year old, without a soul in our house knowing about? I was in the back yard, using a wrong handed glove, teaching myself to play softball. Was I seeking her attention, or mimicking what I saw? Don't know. I DO know that when, as a 12, 13 and 14 year old, I couldn't get my mother to watch more than 1 game in my season, it stopped being important to me. That was my choice, no one made me do it. I accept that. (Sidenote: This is the ONE thing in my life you will never hear me question about myself. Softball was and is something that came very easy from a very early age. When I was in the 8th grade, I was still playing girls' fast pitch and playing on my mom's women's team as well. I got offers to go to college, but I was too smart for that evidently, and decided to get married two weeks after high school. Nice. My husband's team asked him if I could play for them when I moved to California. Suffice it to say, softball is not something that is an issue for me. ) Moving on: I went to nursing school, just like my mother. When one of our term ceremonies fell during a time that mom and I were fighting, I still sent an invitation. You didn't come, but you DID send a card. It even has something nice written inside it... similar to what you'd send to a friend's kid during any particular ceremony. With less than two months to go, I left school. Of course, that was easy because I had a great excuse. Austin's hospitalization... it doesn't get any better than that. Again, my choice. But why? Why so much effort for nothing? Don't get me wrong. I walked through nursing school without cracking a book, during a 9 month period in my life where I was forced to move 3 times because my husband kept loosing jobs. Again, my choice. But I was so close to having a way to take care of myself and it took almost no effort. If I heard it in class, it stuck. Everyone else was studying several hours after they got home. I was wondering if I had lights when I got home. So I have no excuse, I could have done it and I didn't. But, I had stop, because Austin broke his arm and was in the hospital for a week then had to stay home, with his badly fractured arm tied to his bed for two more weeks so that the bones in his arm didn't move while the cast was bifricated. Of course, there was no way Marshall was competent enough to take care of him so I HAD to stay home... right? Yeah, I was a victim again. (Just in case anyone is wondering, that IS sarcasm there, ok?)

But I also notice some things that I don't think you, Mother, are brave enough to admit. In some ways, I don't find fault with this, because I've probably done the same thing to my kids. Anytime Rusti and I attempt the same things, you make certain that the undercurrents make it hard for me or you, in some way, take up any slack you THINK Rusti needs. Craig still remembers the first time he met both of you and the argument that ensued between the two of you (nothing serious though) about who was a better ball player, me or Rusti. Dad ended the small argument with, "Craig, I'll just tell it to you like this. I have never seen a more talented softball player than Kristi. She just didn't want it." Mom semi-stomped out of the room, but was back 10 minutes later, and all was well. Anyway, I did that for Austin, and I didn't realize until he was 16 that I'd totally robbed him of the opportunity to LEARN how to fend for himself. I fought all his battles, and while I THOUGHT I was saving him from drowning, all I'd really done is taken the life raft, and left him no way to know if he really could get himself out of a jam. Again, my choice.

Finally, that brings me to what I said the one thing that bothered me, still, was. My mother interfering on Rusti's behalf, between my son and I. ESPECIALLY after she, herself, had pointed out the foolishness of allowing that relationship. But that happened when Rusti had pissed mom off to the point that mom was coming to MY house and telling me that Charles was threatening to leave Rusti, and a billion other things that don't matter. It was during a time when Mom wasn't taking up any slack. So be it. Whether any of it us true or not, it doesn't matter. It only matters how it made us feel. The actions are nearly as important as the feelings, and I don't feel angry. I just feel sad, a bit empty and slightly better for having taken the time to write this. My first instinct was to let it go... but I never can just let things go. They always have to be solved. Pointless. This can't be solved. Maybe, someday it can be dealt with but it can't be solved. There's really no reason to rehash it all, is there? I mean, we all have our views of how things have happened and that's just the way of the world. This world would be quite boring, albeit safer in some ways, if we all saw things the same way. Families are what is supposed to make it special, and though each of us has an idea of what a family is, to get a true, clear cut definition go to the dictionary. It's profound. We, no matter how well intentioned, are NOT a family. We were told all the right things to do to BE a family, but we don't act like one. Not one single member of this family has. The most ironic thing in the world to me right now is that my family, my TRUE FAMILY, in EVERY sense of the word, involves someone I met through the internet. He loves me without question. Better than that, he loves my KIDS without question. He loved them when there was nothing about them that most people could find to love. They were awful, reacting to the chaos in their lives. I'm not trying to insult them, that's just the truth. But not one time since I've known him has he EVER referred to them as his step kids. NEVER. He would sooner slice off an arm than miss a single sporting event or school event for any of them. The truth is that I've missed more than he has. I've missed 4 games total... between all of them. He's missed one. But when it comes to me, I know why he accepts me. I can say with 100% honesty that he knew all the worst things about me before I ever saw his face. I had unloaded everything, from my deepest regrets to my most embarrassing transgressions, and whether another soul on this planet believes me, I care not. I am always safe with Craig because I can always be ME. The me that isn't likeable. The me that isn't pretty. The me that is lazy. The me that cuts people off at the knees (as mother loves to say about me) with insults when I am angry. The me that goes for the jugular when I am hurt, or scared. The me that can't find one reason about herself for ANYone to find loveable. Other than my kids, and sometimes my dad, my husband is my safe harbor. The only place where I have ever truly been safe... even from myself.

My friends can't understand why I go into hiding every once in a while. Lately, it's been more than once in a while. Most of the time, I feel so awful about myself that I really keep wondering how I even have friends. But I do. And like Craig, they've stuck by me through some pretty hairy times. Ironically, one of them also met her husband on the internet and now lives here. We went through some of the ugliest fighting I've seen, and we're better off for it. How is that? How does someone without a single blood tie to you accept you more than your own family? She knows my deepest darkest secrets, and still takes me as I am. Even when I hide in my room, feeling sorry for myself. Even when I'm not there for her when she needed me. Still. We've both turned our back on each other at times, but we're still friends. Do you know why? I do. Because none of that other shit mattered. None of it. We CHOSE the feelings we had to the things that were happening around us. Some of it we created, and some of it just happened. But we CHOSE to get past it. It still doesn't explain why our family can't choose to forgive, but it's helped me to realize that I needed to push my boat away from this damn pier that I've been tied to. So there you have it.

I'm done. I love you all, but I'm done. I'm through torturing myself, and that's the whole of it. I've done this to myself. Therefore, I'm choosing to undo it. Do with it what you want. I'm done. Well, and truly, done.