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I left a few cryptic messages on my profile yesterday which caused concern. I was not in a good frame of mind at all and a few people here got worried. I can't express my regret enough, believe it.
So, what's going on?
Simple. I'm a fool. The worst kind of fool. I'm a fool for my daughter and some may halfway applaud, halfway critique it. But this degree deserves more critique than applause. I became a fool for my daughter on the day my ex packed the kids and left on June 1, 2003. A wife is someone you love, someone you devote yourself to...but that is wholly overshadowed by the love and devotion due to a daughter. A wife is not blood...a daughter is. Fight as one might, sometimes the non-blood link fails. My body was failing. I was no good to her, apparently, so she left. Just as well, she was not only dabbling in criminal activity like Breaking & Entering, which left a trail of consequence coming right back to me & the kids...but over the entire run of our relationship, she cheated on me. I suspected it. It was confirmed when our divorce was finalized 2-1/2 years after she left. I just shrugged, there was no more breaking left to do. This body was already broken and this heart had already healed & calloused over.
My daughter, from Moment One, was heartbroken. One doesn't forget that. Between the day she drove off with her mother and the day I got her back, she'd lived a tough life of loneliness & heartache. "Mom"'s lot was not at all stable and she'd conned my daughter to believe in a "sisterhood", which 'worked': my daughter bought it and it tugged her 51% to her mother. She was confused, torn. She stayed devoted to her mother. Shortly after she discovered she was pregnant at 15-1/2, the 'sisterhood' crumbled. My ex didn't call me to ask for help...my daughter called me, sobbing, saying her mother kicked her out. Not even a good-bye. She said she had nowhere to go.
I said "No, that's not true. Come home". And she did.
After she returned, more truth came out: the mother had been lugging the kids from one bad scene to another. Bad. Zero stability. To make matters worse, she had stolen again...from her own children. When my daughter got her 50% value stipend from my Disability, it included a $21,500 lump-sum check. Her mother had it all spent in 6 weeks. A few months later, when my stepson joined the Army, he had gotten a $23,000 enlistment bonus...she spent $16,000 of that, quickly. She'd used ID theft and stabbed me with her medical bills, but thank God for divorce decrees because the creditors turned tail and went after her. She's still a wrecking-ball to this day, of her own undoing.
In a few years, time, my daughter her turned her life around: She got truth, she got reason. She got educated. In time, she got married. Now she's a professional, with a house she's buying and four children...my grandkids.
Know what it's like being a single dad of a daughter who's pregnant or with a baby? Demeaning. Extremely. And you wouldn't believe how much. Whenever I took my daughter to any clinic for a pre-natal or post-natal visit, the staffers there would ask her about 'her husband' with an eye on me, and she would grimace and say "Uh, no...he's my father". A staffer's look would go from curious to condemning. You can feel the hate. No, not 'contempt', because it's no better or worse than the word "hate". You feel it. And it doesn't stop there...it continues, with stores, restaurants, you name it. They don't ask...they judge. They might as well say it: "CHILD MOLESTER". And you wear their hate, whether you want to or not, no matter what the fact. I felt it the worst when I took my daughter & her newborn oldest daughter to Babies R Us, with a few hundred dollars to outfit the baby's corner. Staffers there noticed us, would not help us. We both felt it. Hate. We got the hint, bought one small item, paid at the stall of a snotty, hateful, middle-aged clerk. My daughter was weeping as she took the baby to the car and I told the clerk "You humiliated us. I brought my daughter here to buy a crib, a stroller, and every single one of you here not only didn't help us but knew we needed help and didn't care. And I don't know why you are all hateful to us and nobody else but--"
"We're not hateful."
"Oh, forgive me, I don't see 'love' for what it is then. My daughter is a teen mother who was attacked, chose to keep her baby. Her mother kicked her out. I am her father, I took her in. Now I know the rumors are true: your corporation hates single mothers."
"That's not--"
"It is! You just showed it. Your mouth failed you and your company. I will never again set foot in or buy anything from Babies R Us, Toys R Us, any of your subsidiaries. You lost my business forever. And I will tell others, I will crow it from rooftops and will be all over Facebook and the internet with it. You're banned. Goodbye!"
I complained everywhere, including their website. Toys R Us deferred it. But their site, their Facebook page, all the business review places showed an incredible amount of complaints: unfulfilled orders, registry-fund theft, gift-card funds theft, extremely-poor in-person, phone and online customer service, ranging from their teen-mom hate to other intangible reasons. All over the US and Canada. I felt a little better after Toys R US and Babies R Us crumbled. They had it coming, they got their due. What you reap, you sow. Good riddance of bad rubbish.
Today, shadows remain of a tough past. With all these blessing comes different kinds of problems. Everyone has way more clothes than they really need, and they end up a double-endless pile on the laundry-room floor. Dishes are hardly done. Games are broken. Toys are everywhere, tons of them. Nobody wants a clean place and the kids certainly would rather snap a finger, say "Clean it!" and then use a guilt-trip to invoke results. That doesn't work with a markedly-impaired-with-autism 13YO girl, an impressionable 10YO brainiac who's every bit her mother at the same age, an 8YO girl with autism who wants to be someone's loved little girl...and a 5YO rough-and-tumble boy whose attention is drawn to other things, like others his age. I think the parents see their oldest daughter as 'useless' and the two youngest aren't old enough. And so they call on the 10YO for everything. And her smile is vanishing. That breaks me up. Her parents won't teach the kids...they just play Finger of God. Snap. "Do it!" And so it must be done. And add two indoor cats to the mess. It used to be six kittens but now four are gone. Two are just as troublesome as six.
But none of it gets done. The parents have overwhelmed the kids with toys, clothes, blankets, dishes, cups. Almost all of it ends up in the sink, despite the presence of a working dishwasher, which I installed a few days after my flight which was almost hit by an oncoming jet and I was still in trauma. Nothing improves. At all. And this has been going on for 13 years...the worst of it since after my daughter got married.
So, back to the opening line. I'm the fool. Why? Because I got too involved. Without intending to, without trying, I hemmed in on the kids' marriage. Put pressure on them, unwittingly. How? Easy. I took their job over. Cleaning the place, feeding the kids, under the guise of helping...but more like fear. Tell me that doesn't impinge on a marriage. It does.
I am terrified of the grandkids' welfare. Of the kids' welfare. I am terrified that CPS will be called by someone and step in. Fear like this does not weigh good at all upon anyone, let alone a 56YO with severe fibro and moderate autism. I try, I struggle, I break. While my daughter's in a frenzy to keep the place going while 75% of the time her husband's at home, he's on the goddamned game console. And then he talks about wanting a $1,100 sport rifle or a Pontiac Firebird. BULLSHIT.
Know what it all comes to? Me. I'm the reason. I am the reason this is all crumbling. I'm a fool. Because I care too much. And I've pushed in on what the Bible calls "the marriage bed". It's more than just a bed, you know. Tell me I'm wrong. That's where my fear has led me to. I am a slave to fear. All the responsibilities, no room for rights & privileges, separate living space 11 miles away. Exhausted every day from pain, mental exhaustion, sadness, despair...fear.
The answer came to me last night after talking to a good friend: part of it was while I was writhing in bed, trying to get to sleep (got 5 hours), after an afternoon & evening of grief which saw me steer my minivan towards telephone poles, only to snap back after each one, missing them. Yes, I attempted suicide. I was spent. I came home, shook my fist at the sky, screamed. And then I cried, hard. But last night, after the tears were gone, as my skull ached, the answer hit. And it was simple...
I have to step back and let my daughter & her husband fall. They need to. They have to crumble, look at the ruin, see what it's really all about and rebuild. Get rid of the excess. Get close to their kids again. get close to each other again. I am the wedge. I must get out of the equation.
If I am still required to babysit (free of charge, of course, because family does not charge), then there are conditions will be levied:
There is a trigger-defense set up: if either of them mention 'going on meds', it will mean I pack my life and go back to Idaho. I have autism...I am NOT a mental case. And I am exhausted from my daughter's superiority complex and resultant, disrespectful asides & insults from her over-free mouth under her definition of "chummery". I am not her chum; I am her parent. Because whether I stay or leave, it's up to their attitudes. Or attitude. Because if they want anything good in life, they have to earn it themselves. They have to give up their vanity and Parent Up. Adult Up. They're just gonna have to wait for their toys. I'm 56 and I sure don't have many toys as comparable or as prestigious as they want right now. Now isn't the time to accessorize & brag...it's time for them to struggle towards the goal of raising good, honest, capable human beings. Time to Humble Down. I have to step away; how far is 100% up to them.
I'm done with it. I can't do this anymore.
So, what's going on?
Simple. I'm a fool. The worst kind of fool. I'm a fool for my daughter and some may halfway applaud, halfway critique it. But this degree deserves more critique than applause. I became a fool for my daughter on the day my ex packed the kids and left on June 1, 2003. A wife is someone you love, someone you devote yourself to...but that is wholly overshadowed by the love and devotion due to a daughter. A wife is not blood...a daughter is. Fight as one might, sometimes the non-blood link fails. My body was failing. I was no good to her, apparently, so she left. Just as well, she was not only dabbling in criminal activity like Breaking & Entering, which left a trail of consequence coming right back to me & the kids...but over the entire run of our relationship, she cheated on me. I suspected it. It was confirmed when our divorce was finalized 2-1/2 years after she left. I just shrugged, there was no more breaking left to do. This body was already broken and this heart had already healed & calloused over.
My daughter, from Moment One, was heartbroken. One doesn't forget that. Between the day she drove off with her mother and the day I got her back, she'd lived a tough life of loneliness & heartache. "Mom"'s lot was not at all stable and she'd conned my daughter to believe in a "sisterhood", which 'worked': my daughter bought it and it tugged her 51% to her mother. She was confused, torn. She stayed devoted to her mother. Shortly after she discovered she was pregnant at 15-1/2, the 'sisterhood' crumbled. My ex didn't call me to ask for help...my daughter called me, sobbing, saying her mother kicked her out. Not even a good-bye. She said she had nowhere to go.
I said "No, that's not true. Come home". And she did.
After she returned, more truth came out: the mother had been lugging the kids from one bad scene to another. Bad. Zero stability. To make matters worse, she had stolen again...from her own children. When my daughter got her 50% value stipend from my Disability, it included a $21,500 lump-sum check. Her mother had it all spent in 6 weeks. A few months later, when my stepson joined the Army, he had gotten a $23,000 enlistment bonus...she spent $16,000 of that, quickly. She'd used ID theft and stabbed me with her medical bills, but thank God for divorce decrees because the creditors turned tail and went after her. She's still a wrecking-ball to this day, of her own undoing.
In a few years, time, my daughter her turned her life around: She got truth, she got reason. She got educated. In time, she got married. Now she's a professional, with a house she's buying and four children...my grandkids.
Know what it's like being a single dad of a daughter who's pregnant or with a baby? Demeaning. Extremely. And you wouldn't believe how much. Whenever I took my daughter to any clinic for a pre-natal or post-natal visit, the staffers there would ask her about 'her husband' with an eye on me, and she would grimace and say "Uh, no...he's my father". A staffer's look would go from curious to condemning. You can feel the hate. No, not 'contempt', because it's no better or worse than the word "hate". You feel it. And it doesn't stop there...it continues, with stores, restaurants, you name it. They don't ask...they judge. They might as well say it: "CHILD MOLESTER". And you wear their hate, whether you want to or not, no matter what the fact. I felt it the worst when I took my daughter & her newborn oldest daughter to Babies R Us, with a few hundred dollars to outfit the baby's corner. Staffers there noticed us, would not help us. We both felt it. Hate. We got the hint, bought one small item, paid at the stall of a snotty, hateful, middle-aged clerk. My daughter was weeping as she took the baby to the car and I told the clerk "You humiliated us. I brought my daughter here to buy a crib, a stroller, and every single one of you here not only didn't help us but knew we needed help and didn't care. And I don't know why you are all hateful to us and nobody else but--"
"We're not hateful."
"Oh, forgive me, I don't see 'love' for what it is then. My daughter is a teen mother who was attacked, chose to keep her baby. Her mother kicked her out. I am her father, I took her in. Now I know the rumors are true: your corporation hates single mothers."
"That's not--"
"It is! You just showed it. Your mouth failed you and your company. I will never again set foot in or buy anything from Babies R Us, Toys R Us, any of your subsidiaries. You lost my business forever. And I will tell others, I will crow it from rooftops and will be all over Facebook and the internet with it. You're banned. Goodbye!"
I complained everywhere, including their website. Toys R Us deferred it. But their site, their Facebook page, all the business review places showed an incredible amount of complaints: unfulfilled orders, registry-fund theft, gift-card funds theft, extremely-poor in-person, phone and online customer service, ranging from their teen-mom hate to other intangible reasons. All over the US and Canada. I felt a little better after Toys R US and Babies R Us crumbled. They had it coming, they got their due. What you reap, you sow. Good riddance of bad rubbish.
Today, shadows remain of a tough past. With all these blessing comes different kinds of problems. Everyone has way more clothes than they really need, and they end up a double-endless pile on the laundry-room floor. Dishes are hardly done. Games are broken. Toys are everywhere, tons of them. Nobody wants a clean place and the kids certainly would rather snap a finger, say "Clean it!" and then use a guilt-trip to invoke results. That doesn't work with a markedly-impaired-with-autism 13YO girl, an impressionable 10YO brainiac who's every bit her mother at the same age, an 8YO girl with autism who wants to be someone's loved little girl...and a 5YO rough-and-tumble boy whose attention is drawn to other things, like others his age. I think the parents see their oldest daughter as 'useless' and the two youngest aren't old enough. And so they call on the 10YO for everything. And her smile is vanishing. That breaks me up. Her parents won't teach the kids...they just play Finger of God. Snap. "Do it!" And so it must be done. And add two indoor cats to the mess. It used to be six kittens but now four are gone. Two are just as troublesome as six.
But none of it gets done. The parents have overwhelmed the kids with toys, clothes, blankets, dishes, cups. Almost all of it ends up in the sink, despite the presence of a working dishwasher, which I installed a few days after my flight which was almost hit by an oncoming jet and I was still in trauma. Nothing improves. At all. And this has been going on for 13 years...the worst of it since after my daughter got married.
So, back to the opening line. I'm the fool. Why? Because I got too involved. Without intending to, without trying, I hemmed in on the kids' marriage. Put pressure on them, unwittingly. How? Easy. I took their job over. Cleaning the place, feeding the kids, under the guise of helping...but more like fear. Tell me that doesn't impinge on a marriage. It does.
I am terrified of the grandkids' welfare. Of the kids' welfare. I am terrified that CPS will be called by someone and step in. Fear like this does not weigh good at all upon anyone, let alone a 56YO with severe fibro and moderate autism. I try, I struggle, I break. While my daughter's in a frenzy to keep the place going while 75% of the time her husband's at home, he's on the goddamned game console. And then he talks about wanting a $1,100 sport rifle or a Pontiac Firebird. BULLSHIT.
Know what it all comes to? Me. I'm the reason. I am the reason this is all crumbling. I'm a fool. Because I care too much. And I've pushed in on what the Bible calls "the marriage bed". It's more than just a bed, you know. Tell me I'm wrong. That's where my fear has led me to. I am a slave to fear. All the responsibilities, no room for rights & privileges, separate living space 11 miles away. Exhausted every day from pain, mental exhaustion, sadness, despair...fear.
The answer came to me last night after talking to a good friend: part of it was while I was writhing in bed, trying to get to sleep (got 5 hours), after an afternoon & evening of grief which saw me steer my minivan towards telephone poles, only to snap back after each one, missing them. Yes, I attempted suicide. I was spent. I came home, shook my fist at the sky, screamed. And then I cried, hard. But last night, after the tears were gone, as my skull ached, the answer hit. And it was simple...
I have to step back and let my daughter & her husband fall. They need to. They have to crumble, look at the ruin, see what it's really all about and rebuild. Get rid of the excess. Get close to their kids again. get close to each other again. I am the wedge. I must get out of the equation.
If I am still required to babysit (free of charge, of course, because family does not charge), then there are conditions will be levied:
- I will neither do their dishes nor bring mine over to do;
- I will neither do their laundry nor bring mine over to do;
- I will neither vacuum nor clean;
- I will not take another morsel of food from them, it is not right;
- I will not tend to their cats;
- I will rehome Elliott.
There is a trigger-defense set up: if either of them mention 'going on meds', it will mean I pack my life and go back to Idaho. I have autism...I am NOT a mental case. And I am exhausted from my daughter's superiority complex and resultant, disrespectful asides & insults from her over-free mouth under her definition of "chummery". I am not her chum; I am her parent. Because whether I stay or leave, it's up to their attitudes. Or attitude. Because if they want anything good in life, they have to earn it themselves. They have to give up their vanity and Parent Up. Adult Up. They're just gonna have to wait for their toys. I'm 56 and I sure don't have many toys as comparable or as prestigious as they want right now. Now isn't the time to accessorize & brag...it's time for them to struggle towards the goal of raising good, honest, capable human beings. Time to Humble Down. I have to step away; how far is 100% up to them.
I'm done with it. I can't do this anymore.
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