Te-Erika’s Diary: The Best Part of My Day

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The best part of my day is when my sons call. It doesn’t matter which son, although my younger son Solomon isn’t that much of a talker yet so my older son Sai usually spends the most time talking with me.

We talk for hours. We talk about his friends. We talk about girls. We talk about music. We talk about shoes. He shares his world with me, I share parts of mine. We laugh. I encourage him. He’s pretty much awesome. I can’t believe I gave birth to him because he is my favorite person to talk to.

Me and my sons circa 2003.

Me and my sons circa 2003.

I remember that I never wanted kids. I never planned for them. I never even wanted to get married but then look what happened- I had them and if it were not for them I would have no direction in life. I realized that this life is one grand illusion that I shouldn’t take so seriously and interacting in this illusion, the only thing that matters, and the word matters is relative because none of this shit will ‘matter’ in the end, is what I can leave behind for my sons to give them a more rich life. Yes, I mean fortune but really I mean in the way that they will know how to be happy and content with whatever happens.

I don’t wish that they become complacent but I want them to side step the trauma of not getting what they want. I want them to be okay with the fact that we live in an imperfect world. I want them to believe they can change some things, but not feel bogged down or burdened by the things they can not. This world is NOT their responsibility or their creation so I don’t want them to feel guilt or anger because of the things they experience.

I want them to be better than me. I want them to exist yet detach themselves from completely immersing themselves in this existence because nothing is that serious and nothing belongs to them permanently.

The best part of my day is always when they call me and the worst part of my day is usually when I wake up in the morning. I usually lay there for a few minutes as I think about what I am about to get up to do and I start to feel anxiety and panic attacks immediately. I usually wonder why the hell I keep waking up only to push so hard, to not find a place for myself, to feel like I am not connected to anyone or anything in this world.

I know I must seem like a downer, but I am a lot. I don’t feel happy go lucky like most people do, or pretend to do. I feel busy and tired of trying and tired of pushing and not seeing any results. I don’t know how to change this first reaction to waking up but I wish I could.

You know what else I wish I could change?

Oh. And I’m only telling you this because I know you won’t tell anyone else. Look, I wish I could change how much anger I have toward my children’s father.  I try to write positive things about him when I do write about him online because I think it’s tacky to diss the father of your children publicly. But honestly, I feel like I would be a better person if I had no met him.

I honestly feel like I was punished by him for loving him so much. What does he do to me? Let’s say that there are never words coming from him that aren’t pejorative. They remind me of the words my stepfather spoke to me as a child, which he now denies, but I can’t make this shit up. Essentially I found a man who treated me like shit just like my stepfather did.

So I’m not angry at my stepfather anymore about how he was abusive toward me. I now see him as a sad, ignorant man who didn’t know how to love or care for a bright shining gem like myself. I see my children’s father in the same way but it is different because even though I feel sorry for him most of the time, I still have to hear his fucking mouth berate me and read his disgusting ass emails bashing me and it hurts so much. He knows it hurts me and that is why he does it.

Why do I allow him to have such an impact on me? I definitely would not be with him romantically; I am not attracted to employees. I don’t know. Maybe I am so used to the hurt that it’s all I know and what feel comfortable to me. Maybe that is why I won’t allow a man who really likes me, to get close to me. I feel like that sometimes. If a man acts like he has some sense, I get scared and push him away because I think it’s a trick.

There are some women who go through traumas concerning men and bounce back with no issues; I wish I was one of them. At this moment, my goal is to stay as far away from men as I can. Each interaction I have, I end up regretting. I only have one night stands. I never respect any of the men I meet.

I have two sons. I want them to be better than their Dad and I am so afraid that they will grow up to treat women like he treats me, to berate and demean them, offering them what he wants to receive in return. I know that is what it is. I do the same thing. I reject everyone because I want to be rejected and pushed away.

I show appreciation to people for their business achievements because I want to one day be appreciated for mine.

When I think about my sons, I try to treat them how I would like someone who loves them romantically to treat them. I tell them that someone will come along who respects them, admires them, supports them, isn’t afraid to correct them and adores them just like I do.

I preach to them that they are loveable and they will experience love on a variety of levels. I assure them that they are going to have wonderful experiences in life.

I tell them all of the things I wish had been told to me.

I wish I hadn’t been so hurt as a child. I would have made better choices as an adult. Everytime I think about my children’s father, I wish that he would die. That is how hurt I am by how he dishonors me in front of my children. I wish that he would do, or that I would. Until one of us goes, I can not imagine having peace in this world. To give of yourself to someone so completely and to have it returned as hatred is the worst feeling ever and I will never allow anyone to do that to me again. If I could figure out how to release this anger and embrace the idea that there may actually be good in this world, I would bottle up the recipe and sell it. As of right now, I see the world as an ugly, disgusting place that I am forced to live in where everyone who comes close to you aims to try to hurt you.

I honestly wait for death knowing every day I am one day closer. In the meantime, I am trying to equip my sons with a better understanding of how to operate in this world so that they won’t be blind sided by the cruelty of people. Who am I kidding? I can’t teach them because I haven’t figured it out. I am awful at socializing. I haven’t found a source of steady income yet. There has never been any place that has welcomed and appreciated my presence.  I’m kind of like a spirit floating solo through the world, except I am alive.

My aliveness, that word I made up because I can do that, anyway, my aliveness is only made better by the best part of my day; when my phone rings and I hear, “Hi, Mommy.”

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