Monday, June 9, 2014

Talk Radio

I am not normally the kind of person who seeks out talk radio.  I've tried.  I mean really, really hard to listen to it, and in the listening to it I've tried even harder to like it.  Some days I can say that I did (like it), others, well, not so much.  I listen to a local Christian radio station. I have had many times when just at the right time the right song would come on the radio and speak to my heart concerning a particular situation that I am dealing with.  So naturally, today, as I was driving to work (much later than normal because I had an appointment) and heard the topic of the mid-morning talk radio I was ecstatic.  I mean, here was something for me to learn from.  Something for me to take and grow from.   Something that I knew would benefit me in the future.  The topic?  101 Tips on being a Step-Mom.

I would be lying if I didn't say about 5 minutes into it I didn't want to change it.  I did.  I did not like what the family therapist had to say.  I had even less to like regarding her delivery tactics.  I am sure there was a modicum of truth to her statements, but in the end I was left feeling like less of a woman because I was never going to be anyone of importance in the life of my future husband's family.  To that end, I was left with knowing that I will forever be "the other woman" in not only the children's lives, but also in his family's.  That the only role that I was allowed to have in any way shape or form was that of a care giver, and yes, if I was so inclined to do so, rather as I am commanded to do, I am to love those I care for, but never once should I expect it in return or be allowed to feel anything towards any dismissive behaviors that may be sent my way. But wait, there is a small ray of light, I am, as an adult woman, allowed to have one thing, and that is only by asking my future husband to have the conversation with his children, and that is respect.

Now, before you blow up this post with your comments, do not for one second read into any of this that I think I should be their mother.  Good heaven's no.  That is just ridiculousness right there, but I would hope that if I am guiding, teaching, loving, sharing, providing, caring for them the exact same as I do my own, I would at least think I was worthy of more than just the title of "the other woman."   This gem of a woman also went on to sprinkle the finely ground salt onto the already gaping wound of my now crushed heart and said that in no way, shape, or form could I ever expect my blended family to ever resemble that of a biological family and to that end I should never expect my future spouse to relate to me as more than an adult to be respected in front of his children.  That I essentially have no choice but to accept my role and if I truly loved my future husband I would not want for anything but to hold this role as it is - a woman who cares for and provides for, but has no audible voice or feelings.  Essentially, I am to step into the background and then be ready and available when they are ready to invite me into their lives.  Never once am I allowed to invite myself in.

I need to let you know. I cried.  Then I bawled.  Then all during my work day I seethed.  Then after work I broke down, so much so I couldn't drive for almost 10 minutes.  After that I started praying and the tears kept flowing as I yelled at God.  I asked him why he hated me so much that I would never get the honor of having a family again.  Why I wasn't good enough to be a part of a family.  He didn't answer me of course.  It is ok. In fact, as I drove the whole way home crying, I knew in my head that He is strong enough to hear my words and accept the pain of them.  But I wasn't done with my tirade - the one to Him and the one against myself.  I felt hate today.  Hate of the strongest kind.  I believe for the first time ever since the ex-Mr. walked out of my life, I hated him.  Today.  Why?  Because he took my biological family away from me, he took the family bond away.  And now, now I will never get to be a family with someone again.  Instead my Littles and I are afforded this awkward jigsaw puzzle that if I hold my role just right, maybe in some cosmic way, the pieces will fit us together for all the brief seconds the other puzzle piece allows it to.

And that is where I am.  Stuck.  Stuck knowing, yet again, I was not worthy of forever, that I wasn't good enough for a forever family, that I get to get what I get and I cannot throw a fit.  Alright, you can scold me know if you want to. I am sure in someone's eyes I am being completely unreasonable.  I do want to say that I was reminded on one thing.  Of a single thing that she said, that blended family's are always brought together by loss; whether that loss was death or divorce.  Oh, lady, do I ever know.  Yet, it appears that the losses get to keep piling up, at least from my point of view.

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