I’m open about the lousy relationship Mother and I have. Many of our conflicts boil down to her unwillingness to let go of the past and my determination to move forward in life. No Mother, I don’t hate you. I get angry with you and sometimes I’m rude because of it. This has nothing to do with you giving me up as a child. This has everything to do with you acting like a fucking idiot right now.
A couple of weeks ago, Mother and I had a blow up. After a vacation, I took a few deep breaths and called her. Luckily, she was calmer, but her reason behind our conflict was sad beyond words.
Mother and Father divorced when I was five. They were young when they married, and not much older when they broke up. After many nasty arguments, and the intervention of police and child welfare, my brother and I were sent to live with our paternal grandparents. About two years later, our parents agreed to a joint custody arrangement. Brother and I would spend Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday with Mother. Father would have us Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Thursdays were to be spilt – the usual arrangement was for Father to pick us up after school. Holidays were a bitch, since that meant that Mother and Father may actually see each other.
The legal agreement did not fit reality. Mother and Father had jobs, friends and lovers. Father would hand us over to his parents and go about his own plans. Brother and I were latchkey kids when we were with Mother. The intervention of law enforcement was common. Mother and Father would violently fight with each other, or whomever they were dating. My sibling and I would get into sticky situations because we were young and unsupervised. Child Welfare would check in on us sometimes. (There was a big row when Brother was badly hurt. Mother had left us to go out with friends. It was a hot, humid evening and there was no air conditioning. Brother tried to open an ancient, much painted window. The glass broke and slit Brother’s left wrist. He bled profusely. We called 911. The cut was deep: it severed an artery and a tendon.)
When I was 11, Father remarried. His new wife had a job in Colorado and he was taking us with him. It was very scary for me. Father was a distant figure in my life and now he was taking me away from everything I’ve known. There were many ugly arguments between members of the family: Father and Mother, Mother and New Wife, Father and Grandfather. Finally, Father took us to Colorado.
Turns out, he didn’t have all of his legal ducks in a row. The original joint-custody agreement was still valid. Mother and Father were in and out of court over this. Mother even moved to Denver to make things easier. When I was 16, Father was awarded full custody. After that, he sued Mother for child support.
I’m 30 now. Looking back, I’m puzzled by why my parents fought so hard for custody but would have very little to do with us. Maybe they enjoyed the fighting.
My mother still has fights with Child Support Enforcement. They’re giving her some sort of grief now and it has her very upset. Mother has called a couple of times this morning, crying because of fear and frustration.
I’m so sick of this. Since I work in a bureaucracy, I know that common sense will never show up and end this insanity. However, I sincerely wish that my parents would move on and grow up.
(On the other hand, if I could get all of the records, maybe they would qualify for the Guinness Book of World Records.)