Losing our saviour

I was 29 years old.  It is 1996.  I have broken down in front of a priest.  I am taking the rite of reconciliation without the comfort and anonymity of a vestibule.  The new fangled modernity of catholicism allows (encourages) the face to face airing of one's dirty laundry to people with testicles. I am beside myself with desperation.  Weariness.  Loneliness.  I have a heartbreak that is nearly 2 years raw.  I regularly believe I can no longer go on.  I weep today with the memory of it.  It is still palpably raw and only a heart beat away.

Ironically, my figurative marriage to the mother church was sealed by my literal marriage to XHusband.  I thought both would endure infinity.  I was encouraged to believe this.  Indoctrinated at the baptismal font.

The old priest thought he was being helpful.  "Of course you're upset. Your life is hard."

Crack.  The first fault lines appeared.  He had no idea.  He had nothing to offer me except shallow words of empathy.  I had no sins to confess.  I had no time for sin.  A single mother with a high needs two year old.  I was exhausted.  I had nowhere to turn.  Mother church, why hast thou forsaken me?

Fast forward to 2001.  Annulment received in 1998 like a new baptism.  Phoned anulment priest (not the old one) for a letter of reference for a contract position teaching math in a catholic school.  Job badly needed.  Priest unwavering in refusal to give letter. I begged.  He refused.  Fault line cracked open wide.  Over the next decade everything fell into that chasm, including parts of my soul.

"So much for my happy ending."  Avril Lavigne (2004)

Darwin's Penetrative Force

"OMG, I allowed that man to orgasm in me. Without protection!  I wantonly willed it!"  My (68 yo) mother and I (45 yo) shared these thoughts together, yesterday on the phone.  We have both marvelled at the wonders of the biological clock over the years and at the choices we made when our own clocks were a buzzing.

"that man" is my XHusband (and "that man" for my mum is my Dad, her XHusband).

My mother, the slut (sarcasm alert), conceived me before an actual wedding date was set.  So my very being necessitated a hasty marriage to my Dad.  A marriage that was prompted by a cleverly planned emigration from Ireland (so no one was told of my conception).

This forced-marriage-emigration ploy by my parents was followed by a turbulent 15 year marriage.  An emigration to Canada (wtf? why not somewhere warm and kewl, like Australia or exotic like South Africa?).  All of which was finally sorted, for me, in my thirties (yup, it took me twenty years...longer than their feckin' marriage).

XHusband and I were married nearly 3 years when our first child was conceived (I was 26, he was 27 and this was the early 90s, so quaint).  The child that miscarried.  He impregnated me with Daughter a few months after that miscarriage but also started his dating life with his current wife.  I was very needy after that miscarriage.  I know he tried.  But he wasn't in it for the long haul and today, after 17+ yrs, I have to admit that I wasn't in it for the long haul for the right reasons either. BTW, it is only hindsight that allows me to admit this.

XHusband texted Daughter this week asking if she needed the money he had for her upcoming university gig.  He, a 46 yo grown man, texted his 17 yo daughter and asked her if he was allowed to use her university money for house renovations.  The house renovations that involve eliminating a bed in his house for her. A renovation that leaves her homeless if her other parent, moi, chose to do the same.

And today, all I can think of is:  A mother's instinct never fails.

Daughter needs protection from this imbecile I allowed to impregnate me.  And so, I will.  Continue to.


In whatever way I am able.  Just like my Mum has done for me.  


And I'm the first one to admit that I'm not perfect and I'm not enough.  But it's all we got.

Freedom 105?

Father called a short while ago.

"I didn't want to worry you."

Fuck.

He has been eight days in hospital.  This is his third trip this year.  No answers as to why he is passing out other than it has something to do with his heart, they think (!?).

One more test Monday and then they might be putting in a defibrillator.

Both of my parents are 68 and in moderate states of health.

My dad, up until last Friday, has been working full time at a seasonal job since April and was really pleased that he landed this full time job so that he can collect employment insurance throughout the winter and return to the job next spring.  My mother has basically never not worked since arriving in Canada in 1967.

So far, each of their retirement years have been spent paying off debt.

They are not together and haven't been since 1982.  I often refer to their continuing state of employment (well into what should be their golden years) as one of the perks of divorce.  Or penances.

I'm not alone with this view point.  I can't think of one divorcee that has had an easy time of it financially even if it meant downsizing into a luxurious condominium from the family mansion after divorce proceedings. I have also personally lived this reality and have come to accept there is no golden years future for me too.

If my father's health now means he will no longer be able to work I fear for his mental well being, with good cause.  He has shown himself to be unable to 'do nothing' and today I am left wishing that I could support both of my parents so that each of them could pursue more leisurely activities at this stage of their lives.  Travel for my father.  Writing and travel for my mother.

As someone who currently is not gainfully employed these are pretty lofty goals.  But as someone who also just witnessed the passing of a similarly aged neighbour I am not rationally processing my fears at the moment.

Damn.