Bastard. Through the kids again. Now I'm getting angry.
My kids gave me wonderful, thoughtful Mother's Day presents that they created with their own hands, with direction, ideas, and help directly from my abuser.
My daughter woke me up with milk and toast and kisses, as well as a handmade card from school that I will treasure forever. She is a sweet and thoughtful girl, and I am lucky to have her. Then she handed me a gold wrapped present. I opened it to discover 9 sand dollars mounted in a shadowbox. 9 sand dollars that we found on the beach as a family on a vacation before the divorce. 9 sand dollars that were supposed to be a present for my mother on her birthday years ago. A project ex came up with, never finished, raged about with failed attempts to craft, then put it in the garage for years until he moved out and took it with him.
My sensitive and funny son gave me a gift of 8 painted fish tiles in a frame. 8 fish tiles that were supposed to be in a bathroom ex was going to let me decorate. 8 fish tiles he gave me because he knows I love the ocean, though I didn't pick them out myself. 8 fish tiles that sat in a bag in our garage that had become a hidy-hole for spiders while he ignored 'our' plan for a bathroom upgrade, until the city sewer backed up into our bathroom forcing a remodel. 8 fish tiles that sat in that spidery bag in the garage as he 'let me choose' paint he picked and different tiles, making the bathroom that was supposed to be for me into something he wanted. Again.
The fish tile picture is sitting on the dresser in my bedroom affecting me, the same way the sand dollar shadow box is hanging on the wall. I smiled and told my kids the presents were beautiful and thoughtful and spent some time cuddling and talking with them.
I fell apart later with my partner.
It's hard to explain why the gifts trigger me and I can understand why it wouldn't make sense. One reason (I was trying to explain this to my partner who often understands me before I say anything, being intuitive to my feelings.) is that they represent two of eleventy-billion projects that he raged against himself for not finishing, then took out on us. Being a perfectionist often paralyzes him, as he's not able to live up to his own standards. Reason two, that just looking at them sitting in my bedroom reminds me about his two decades of abuse and my life as a doormat. Three, it infuriates me beyond belief that he can still trigger me. There is more, but later maybe.
I know that he's given them to me through our kids to say, "Look! I finished it! You can have it now!", and that deep down in his psyche, though he would never, ever admit it, "You were wrong about me. I'm different without you. Better. Happier. I showed you, didn't I?"
Some might say I should put them somewhere where they don't trigger me so much, but my children being proud of giving me those gifts is more important to me than how the gifts make me feel. Whether or not he did it deliberately to abuse me, whether he considers it 'redemption' for what he sometimes admitted to doing to me, on rare occasions when I could get through to him, or all of the above, I'll probably never know. I don't care. I never want to talk to him again, and I sure as hell am not going to ask him.
So I'm going to use those gifts they're so proud of to remind me to be strong.
I am very conscious that I ignored ex's birthday the next day, and I'm going to try to ignore the fact that he will probably use it as an example for his new girlfriend and his family further to prove that I am heartless and cruel because he's the BEST EX HUSBAND EVER. This is his new goal in the public eye. I am no longer in the business of rewarding him for breaking me. Lord knows what he's told his family. It must be pretty good because not one of them has made any attempt to contact me. He was always great in public, singing the praises of my mothering, housekeeping, and being a wife.
Unless he was drunk. Or angry. Or I didn't go along with his plan. Then he would lose control of the carefully planned message he sent out to the world.
My daughter heard me crying later and came into my room to see me in my partner's arms, wiping my eyes. I told her I'd had a rough week, and that I was just processing it. That I was ok. She acted silly to make me smile, made sure I was ok, then wandered off.
Am I doing my children a disservice? Maybe. They're smart, they trust me, and they're comfortable knowing that if they ask my anything I'll give them an honest, if not edited for child content, answer. Someday I'll talk to them about it. Particularly if I find that ex is emotionally abusing them. He's a controlling and domineering father, but I don't think he's being abusive. I prod them gently for information every once in a while and listen carefully when they talk about him. If they ask me directly, I will not lie. I've told them a little bit, which I'll talk about in later posts.
It's just one more thing he's done to continue his abuse from afar.
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