It’s happening! We are down to the final days. It’s so bittersweet, but it’s a completely welcomed change. We are so ready to move forward. I am hoping that this move will be exactly what we all need as we continue moving forward into the future that we deserve. I’ll admit it’s been an emotional roller coaster. Honestly, at times I still think I’m jumping head first into the future and forcing that forward motion before being truly ready to embrace it.
Ready or Not
It’s not easy deciding to move forward. I don’t want a new chapter in this dramatic comedy I have been living these past umpteen years. I want a new book. I want the great start, the clean slate and ready or not I’m going to get it. It’s about damn time!
I’m hesitant about this new start for all of us. Not only are we leaving my home town, we are moving out of state to a new town we have never lived in before. It means new schools, new neighborhoods, and new jobs. However, it also means new opportunities to build the future. It’s a chance and a challenge.
Challenge Accepted
I’m embracing this challenge as one that is going to guide our family forward. We have had so much of our past hold us back for so long. This move is the first step into a future that frees us from that past prison.
This challenge allows us to start fresh. Our girls can begin writing their own narrative. They won’t be bound by hospitalizations that made them targets of their peers. They won’t be weighted with the daily reminders of abuse they suffered in their lives. In addition, they can be whichever version of themselves they choose to be. This challenge is one we all embrace.
Mommy Moves
I hope this move can help others to see that it’s possible. You can take the chances and accept the risk. You can make mommy moves and be the boss of your future! It’s not about running from the past. It’s about chasing our future. We know that mental illnesses will not be left in this home, but we do know that we can move forward with the right tools to manage our mental illnesses.
Never Give Up; Never Surrender
My dad was known to repeat the quote “never give up; never surrender” anytime the going got tough. Well, it’s still just as true now as it was when I was younger. We aren’t giving up and we aren’t surrendering. Our time is now. Ready or not. We are moving forward.
Good Morning! 😘 I am leaning on the My Threefold tribe of mommas to get a little advice on my plan of action! Maybe I can gain some insight from the opinions of you guys! My kids are breaking me! I’m not just broke trying to support my boogie little beauties, I am B-ROKE. I’m attempting to sell the B off from the remainder of the word, kind of b-roke. 🤣🤣 However, I have a plan. I just need some feedback!
It would seem that my children, like most, don’t have a concept of how much money they receive each week for these items. Somehow, it’s never enough. I get calls saying “Momma, I need ….” A text request for my drive home from work, and empty promises filled with cleaning fairy dust and the return of the bowls from the burial ground under the beds in their room. Girls, are gross too, my friends, so freaking gross! 🤢🤮🤢
I am scared to see the results, but for the next week I am going to track exactly how much my kids spend on “luxury” items. I’m not talking about toilet paper or laundry detergent I’m talking about extra lunch/snack money for school, the fast food, requests for makeup, spending money, etc. All the crap they think they need to live their lives to the fullest, like Spotify premium or the unlimited data with 5g LTE, wifi, and the other seemingly priceless items some magical money fairy bestowed on our family of freeloaders! 🙄🙄
Once I show them how much they spent on their personal requests, I intend to show them how much it requires to provide the basic necessities like shelter, electricity, and those 30 minute blood of the dragon showers. The umpteen rolls of toilet paper that I feel are wadded around their hands in cast like fashion to protect their hands from the germs down under. I mean we do have soap, and ya know after you go around twice with Charmin it’s just a blanket you are using to soak up the pee! 💩💩💩 have no doubt that their cost of living is no where near the number they believe it is. They think they don’t have enough, but I see excess and moreover, wastefulness. I’m sure they aren’t intentional in their lackadaisical attitude surrounding their spending habits, just oblivious teenagers. 😒😒
My next step will be to show them how many hours I must work to provide them each the lifestyle they have grown accustomed to living at home. It’s time they see that money isn’t just waiting around for good use. In fact, it is very much earned by my hardworking, blood, sweat, tears, and my time away from them.
I am NOT trying to shame my kids for wanting more, but teach them that the price of tea and fine china 🥄🥄🥄 come with more than just a price to my financial account, but also to my physical and emotional bank account. 🤪😴🤑 The intent is to instill the value of a dollar earned. As a result, I hope they learn to be grateful, less entitled and more appreciative of the work that I put in to meet all of their needs. I don’t ask for much on return. I want respect, both of myself as their sugar momma, and of the property in which I have worked to acquire. Honestly, I think cleaning your room, keeping your own messes cleaned up, and completing one task that contributes to the household per day isn’t a BIG request. 🤔
How do you handle/did you handle chores, allowance, and get the compliance of your family? I don’t like to fight, I won’t argue or beg. I’m to the point, do it or don’t, but when you come asking I’ll mirror what decision I saw you make when I asked for your help. 😤🥱😫Mommin’ aint easy, but together, me and you, we’ve got this! ☮️❤️😊~M #makeitcount #moneymoves #keepingupwiththejoneses #mybrokebougiebrats #helpamommaout #mythreefold #broke
At my darkest and loneliest times, she is there. In the silence of the night, she is there. When I’m at my weakest, she is there. She is with me when I walk into an uncomfortable situation. After a heartbreak and in my grief, she never leaves me. When I’m on cloud nine, and hopeful she shows up. When I’m anxious and unsure, she is talking to me. When I’m hurt and angry, she supports my feelings. She validates my actions. She gives me the option to run away. She remembers everything I’ve ever said. She knows my past. She knows my weaknesses. She takes pictures, so I remember what we’ve done together and all of our experiences. She is the one who hasn’t ever abandoned me, and the one never stops showing up.
I’m sure you’re wondering who this is. Maybe a mother, a daughter, a sister, a lover, or a friend. She is none of these and all of these. She isn’t anything and she is everything. She is the voice inside my head that I fight to silence every day.
You may think that you know her, but let me explain. She isn’t there supporting me or empowering me to keep going. She wants me to stay this way so she can thrive while I struggle to merely survive.
Who Are You?
You won’t meet her, but im sure you know someone just like her. You can’t see her, but her voice is always there. You probably aren’t a fan if by chance you know her as intimately as I do. Consider this your proper introduction. However, I don’t know if you will understand.
She steals the spotlight, demands to be heard, and aims to hurt anyone who dares to silence her. She is the one who tells me that I’m never going to be enough. She shows me the worst parts of the people around me. She drives them away, then tells me “see they don’t love you. Otherwise, they would stay.” She manipulates my feelings and twists my words. She tells me the worst-case scenarios and keeps me fearful of my every move.
Where Did She Come From?
Sometimes, she sounds like my mother, telling me I will never be pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough, good enough, or just enough. Other times, she sounds like my abusers who made me believe I was always to blame. In my head, she can make anyone sound like a hurt from my past. She has pictures and videos she can play to remind me of every hurt I’ve ever endured. She holds the buttons to my triggers. She is persistent and doesn’t care about the consequences.
I know she is made up of the broken pieces of my past. She is the child who felt unwanted. She is the teenager dying to fit in. She is the young mother looking for a way out. She is the abuse survivor. She is a traumatized woman. She is bleeding in the shower. High in the bathroom. A thief. A covert narcissist. An abandoned young adult. A lonely wife. The mother who was too scared to fight back and save her children. She is the addict. She is the worst part of me. That’s who she is. She is the version of myself I’m scared to become and equally terrified she is the real version I keep hiding from the world.
Change Her, Break Her, Abolish Her
I have tried to allow her visitation and then quickly see her out. However, she is relentless. At times, she is the only one who validates the unfairness of this life. She allows me to be not okay. It’s oddly comforting to be able to wallow and grieve a life I didn’t live. However, she aggravates those wounds I am trying so hard to heal. She breaks them back open and makes them bleed.
The past suddenly becomes present, and she revels in the power to overtake me. She feeds on my pain. It is as if my own mind is going to destroy me slowly. She holds me hostage. I struggle to break free. No matter how hard I try, I haven’t found a way to rid myself of her.
Fighting to be Free
You may think I’m just negative or that I’m weak. I’m the exact opposite. I am strong because I fight this voice that prays on my downfall each day. I’m successful in defeating her, but she knows when to strike. She pulls me to the darkness and holds me captive to her cruel onslaught of verbal blows.
I’m unsure if others fight off this toxic voice made up of their past. However, I know it’s lonely when it’s her and I. Maybe another person wont feel alone with no one who understands that the voice inside your head is sometimes hardest to silence. Even now, years into healing I still struggle to find my healthy escape from her torture.
Now you’ve had an introduction. If sometimes you see me cloaked in fear, paranoia, resentment, anger, or anxiety, please know I did not choose this for myself. I don’t need your attention, but meet me with compassion instead of judgment. I’m broken, and this is what repeated trauma has left behind for me.
It’s not easy. Sometimes, it’s the hardest battle I fight in a day. It is a battle of dismissing my past negative and limiting beliefs. I try now to remind myself of the 3 years of work I’ve put into my healing. However, I fight every day for the future I want, not to stay prisoner to the past, I escaped. I hope you, too, can find healing, and one day, I hope there is comfort in silence instead of her voice telling me how I will never fully overcome the trauma of my past. You and me, we’ve got this! ☮️ ❤️😊~M
The marital dissolution agreement is signed. Every detail has been attended to and it’s all wrapped up. Well I thought it was. I agreed to give everything up. I wasn’t trying to fight over anything. I even gave up back child support and have agreed to keep ongoing payments of child support at less than $75/kid {so yea less than $225-3 kids} I don’t want money or things. The only thing I am fighting for is my threefold.
Everything was set and the parenting plan was arranged and worded to make sure that my threefold could continue with recommendations from their respective treatment teams and abiding by their safety plans. I want my threefold to be taken care of and I’m the person that takes care of them. Every therapy appointment, every doctor or dentist appointment, the medication management appointments, I’m the one making each one and taking them to those appointments. Every school function, parent conference, open house, performance and awards ceremony, I have been in attendance. I’ve planned the birthday parties and mended broken hearts. I’ve called hospitals twice a day when inpatient. I’ve never missed a phone call or a visitation. I buy the clothes, shoes, school supplies and everything else they need. I’m the one at family dinner talking about their days. I help study and fill out college applications. I do it all, with very little help from him. So why is he fighting now?
My ex has pushed our court proceeding seven times. SEVEN. Each time he has played the victim. First he filed for full custody so I was forced to contest. Then he wanted 50/50 and I agreed. That wasn’t good enough, he needed to fight. Next it was he wanted to fight over a car debt that was repossessed because he stopped paying for it after we split. Then my retirement benefits that he feels entitled to. Then my truck that he wanted that I was given as part of a severance from the company I worked at for ten years. Then he said he was trying to care for his ailing grandmother and couldn’t get a job. After all of that he said he needed treatment for his mental health, but never got treatment. Here I am two years post separation and he now decides he wants for us to make decisions jointly on education, healthcare, extracurricular activities and religious upbringing. I don’t think so. Two years I’ve played nice. I’m done being railroaded and giving in to keep the peace. If he wants to fight me on this I will fight.
Let me explain. This isn’t a control issue. I don’t want ultimate decision making just because I’m being stubborn and don’t want to compromise. I want sole decision making rights because he doesn’t see two of three girls at all. He doesn’t contact them and has nothing to do with them. They ‘turned on him’ and told the family secrets about the abuse had endured. The girls {the oldest two} refuse to subject themselves further. Guess what? The judge granted the girls that right of refusal. the youngest of my threefold sees him four days per month. Four. The court ordered that he seek continuous therapy and provide documentation to the court of that treatment to be allowed his four days. The remainder of the time she is in my care.
Tell me how someone can make decisions for their children when they have no clue what goes on in their lives day to day? How can you handle making decisions when you don’t even know what medication they take and why, what their diagnoses are, or who their teachers are or the classes they take? Not only can he not tell you the teacher’s name of our youngest’s 4th grade class, he can’t tell you what grades the girls are making in school. I’m not giving in, not on this issue.
Tomorrow I am supposed to have court. I’ve been pleading for this to be finalized for over a year. I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring. I could get a settlement, a finalization or yet another continuance. This is happening amidst my youngest being hospitalized for C-PTSD and major depression. This is on top of my truck breaking down and scheduled to be towed in the morning. This is all happening while I’m up for a promotion at work. I owe $2000 to the hospital for treatment. Right now I’m on my last dollar. I’m doing everything I can to keep this whole family together. He is doing nothing except stirring up more problems. it’s his goal to see me suffer and pay for leaving him.
My ex is a narcissist. It’s a fact. That’s not speculation. I’ve had two different mental health professionals tell me he is a narcissist. He doesn’t want full custody or 50/50. He wants as little responsibility as possible physically and financially, but what he wants is power. If I were to give in and give him decision making rights he would fight me on everything. He would make sure that he got his say so. It would be something to hang over my head as a way to manipulate. When he gets angry he would find everything to disagree on and threaten me with court action. He doesn’t have a job, so he claims no income, but he has inheritance to live off of. He can’t pay child support, but he can buy a $30,000 motorcycle and guitars, guns, computer equipment and anything else he wants. He is manipulative and very psychologically abusive. He can slither out of a situation even when you think you have him pinned against a wall. That’s why I’ve chosen not to fight with him in court over the things I know are rightfully mine. It’s not worth the energy.
This fight, the fight for my threefold, is worth every bit of fight I have left in me. I won’t back down. I may lose, but I can’t give away their medical and educational decision making to someone who doesn’t have anything to do with them on a daily basis. I definitely won’t let that right fall into the hands of their abuser without telling the courts why he is unfit. I have nothing to lose by going to court except for time and more of my money. If it were anything else I would give it up to keep from fighting and drag this out any longer. I can’t in good consciousness let this happen without first telling our story to the court. In the meantime I’m going to try to stay positive. We’ve got this. ☮️❤️😊~M
This will read like a rant from the pity party parade. It’s written with frustration for those like me who suffer from and/or care for those suffering from mental illnesses. I’m in tears right now as I write this. I’m spiraling into the anxiety of the situation I am currently in. The truth is most people will never understand. This won’t be a plea for support and understanding. This will be another issue that is swept under the rug by the society who forces us to stay silent. It won’t be shared across the world or spark the social change that needs to happen or stomp out the stigma surrounding seeking help for mental illness. I will be labeled, criticized, judged, and scrutinized for how I choose to raise my threefold and for how I mom mental illness while managing my own from those that have no clue how real the struggles are. Yet still, I feel like I am obligated to speak up. If not for myself, then for my threefold, because at the end of the day I’m the one left advocating and fighting for them. Even when no one else will.
I’m in tears, not because I feel sorry for myself and feel the need to place blame. I’m crying because I know how hard this road is. It’s not a road I would wish on anyone. Yet, it’s my reality and the reality of my threefold. I have just admitted my youngest daughter to an inpatient acute psychiatric facility. We walk down this road of life with mental illness weighing us down. I am too familiar with the inpatient stays, the safety plans, the medication management, the highs and the lows of bipolar. This isn’t my first rodeo with admitting a child or myself to a psychiatric facility. We’ve been here before. We’ve battled the suicidal ideation and self harm demons before. It wasn’t that long ago. It’s not a fun ride on the bipolar express. I’m not going to sugarcoat the truth and paint pretty, positivity filled pictures with sunshine and rainbows about overcoming the obstacles. The obstacles we face are ominous, over whelming and either over criticized or completely overlooked by the society that surrounds us. Ignoring and judging is not helping anyone, it is silencing our voices, while the screams inside our head are so deafening. The stigma is real. It’s a social injustice. I don’t say that lightly.
I am a single mom. I have three girls that I lovingly and sarcastically refer to as my threefold. They are me, and then some. They were cursed by my genetics and an illness that was passed down to us from the generations before us. It is what it is. The cards have been dealt and we are forced to play this hand or fold. Folding for my family is not an option. I will fight for us to survive. Even still I would be lying if I didn’t state that my own inner demons are begging to run rampant and it’s taking everything I have to hold it together.
I could sit and pretend that I have it all under control. I could act like I’m the picture of mental health leading my threefold on a ‘live laugh love’ journey through their mental illness struggles. I’m barely holding on right now. My grip is slowly slipping and I’m on the tipping point of an episode. I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this. I feel like I’m failing. I feel like I have very little support to make it through this day, week, month year. I’m silenced, because no one needs my sob story about how hard my struggles are. People have their own problems. I’m just a drop in the bucket of like. No one is going to save us, that’s all on me.
Seeking support seems like a great concept in theory. no one is jumping up and down to be friends with someone who has children in tow 24/7. I can’t go out, mom nights are nonexistent, and my threefold is more important than those things. Yet it’s lonely. When there is no family support nearby, it’s all left to you. You are responsible for every therapy appointment, psychiatric consult, evaluation, treatment team meeting, and every single hospitalization. You don’t get the break from school IEP meetings, teacher conferences, and the carline. Days off surround seeing how many appointments you can squeeze into a single day.
It’s not easy Mommin’ mental illness when everything costs money, especially the treatments required and the medications needed. Therefore I work, hard. Every phone call from schools or hospitals and every appointment means I lose money. When a child goes inpatient it only increases your mental stress because now you’re overloaded and overthinking every path forward. There is no rest. Even when you try it’s futile. You are left tossing and turning with anxiety as you worry about how you are going to do everything. Alone.
My relationships suffer, because not only am I completely wrapped up in my own children’s life, but now I am not a nice nor fun person. I’m angry and I’m emotionally drained. I’m overwhelmed with anxiety and I want to be alone. Until I don’t. Then I am needy. To top it off I don’t want to share my spiral with my family. I don’t want them to see me fall apart. I don’t want the ‘everything will be ok’. I want it to be ok now.
We hide these struggles from outsiders because we are already being ripped apart as if I am being pulled in a million different directions at all times, but right now the last thing I need is society’s stigma ripping me apart too. People don’t see the bravery and strength it takes to seek help. The balancing act required to keep it all from crashing down on you. They instead want to pick apart your past, your flaws, your parenting and your children until they can find a reason to blame for the mess you are in. I know my guide to Mommin’ mental illness why managing my own was just right here…oh wait I didn’t get my copy. Can I borrow yours, judge Judy? That’s what I thought. We don’t need more judgment.
That’s not even close to support that’s shoving the stigma in our face. So we swallow that stigma and suck it up. After all, we can beat ourselves up without having others do it for us. We are black belts when it comes to beating up on ourselves and we can kick ourselves when we are down. No extra help is needed in that department. If you think I don’t cry alone as I try to figure out how I messed up this bad. Then you are mistaken, I’ve been blaming myself relentlessly. Even when I can rationalize the why and the purpose for the pain my guilt still follows me. Pretend I’m the bad guy, it’s ok I play that part of the villain of this story in my own mind over and over. It’s not going to be the first time I’ve been validated by society that my self deprecating thoughts are true.
So why should we even speak up? Why seek support? Why shouldn’t we just fight our invisible enemies solo? This fight, the one that is life or death, needs support to be victorious. this isn’t a singular battle we are fighting. This is a war. Sometimes we are our own worst enemy and we need the support of others to fight for us when we begin fighting against ourselves. It’s not fair. How childish of me to say. It’s not something everyone can handle. It’s not easy to understand. It is a real fight everyday to not give in.
If the options are to lose everything to save one of my threefold or lose one to hold everything together then I know what I’ll choose. I’ll lose everything before I let this invisible enemy win. Even if it means I go down with the darkness myself. I’m not afraid to fight. I’m afraid to fight this in silence alone and fail. I’m not sure what enemies are lurking in the shadows that will darken my doorstep. I refuse to let those enemies take my threefold captive without seeking support and rounding my troops. Until I can find our path forward again, I’ll be here fighting. Fighting for all of us. I will continue to speak up and stomp the stigma surrounding mental illnesses. Failure is not an option.
