Tears are Not Enough

Last night was tough.

And not just tough because Little Mr. wasn’t at my house.  He had spent the day, and we had a lot of fun together.  It was tough because I always seem to push my time to the limit, and that was always a bone of contention for my former spouse.  My step-daughter was playing soccer, and from there Little Mr. was going to his father’s house.

I do feel that being on-time or even early is important, and I strive for that in all things.  The difference for me is that I do not see the point of being 30 minutes early when 5 will do.  My former spouse always saw the need to be places ridiculously early, so that he doesn’t miss anything, and he was often in judgement of my lack of need to be somewhere so early that I stand around aimlessly, especially if there was something else I could be doing.  So, if I’m attending a match for which I do not have to transport a player, five minutes early is just fine.  So, my goal was to be at the pitch for 6:25 for a 6:30 game.

This was the plan.

Sometimes, however, I forget that Little Mr. is almost 6 and really runs on his own sense of time.  In addition, I think we were both hanging onto that last bit of time before he was back at daddy’s house.

All of a sudden, I was in a panic; we needed to leave, and it needed to be now.  And, in typical six-year-old fashion, Little Mr. didn’t get it.  If we didn’t leave right now, we would not be ten minutes early.  If we didn’t leave right now, Little Mr’s dad would be yet again judging me for my lack of ability to do much of anything useful.   And just like that, the monster attacked.

My house was overcome by a screaming banshee.  By the time we got into the car, both of us were in tears.  I spent the entire drive apologizing, and attempting to snuggle my son from the front seat.  I felt like a total failure; no, in my mind, I was, at that moment, a total failure.  I wasn’t going to get to snuggle my son before bed, he was going to daddy’s.  I had absolutely no opportunity to make this up to him, except now, in the car, on the drive to soccer, which was totally inadequate.

We made it to soccer; we made it five minutes early.  My panic and my outburst were completely unwarranted.  We watched the game; our team won.

I helped Little Mr. get into daddy’s car, and hugged him and kissed him and said goodnight.

On my way home, I burst into tears again.  I was devastated by my behaviour.   I felt like the worst mother in the entire world.  Why was this?

I realized that the conversation would have been entirely different had we not been going to an event where his dad was going to be.  I would have been insistent, sure, perhaps even had to raise my voice a little, but the monster, that screaming banshee would not have emerged.  For some reason, whenever daddy is involved, I become far more stressed.  And, why is this?

Apparently, I still cower somewhat at his judgment.  This stands to reason – I have been judged by him for over 15 years, and even though I am breaking free, there are still ties.  Unless I conform to his sense of what is right and what is wrong, he sits in judgement, and I still have this bizarre, yet deep-seeded desire to be the perfect woman (that one that I never was in the first place!)

I am distressed that he still has this hold over me; that he has this ability to make me cower at his opinion of me.  And, now I’m torn with this information.  If I plan to leave earlier so that I arrive earlier, part of me thinks I’m selling out to his way of thinking, but descending to the abyss of the banshee is worse.  The alternative is that I completely stop caring about what he thinks…. which is easier said than done!

I need to be able to be what my son needs.  In this case, my tears were not enough.  My tears are not enough.  I must change my actions so that the stress of interacting with the dad does not overcome me and get taken out on my child.  I must realize, too, that if I am to make a change in my behaviour, it needs to be my choice, and my former spouse’s opinion of me or my actions is unimportant.  Tears are enough if they lead to change, if they lead to catharsis.  Tears can change the world if we learn from them!