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for eight years, I was the role model of what a stepmother/woman should be for three children - 13(f), 11(f), 7(m). It was the greatest role of my life. In fact, the spouse would have married me at any time, yet when I lived with him, I would have to be married - there were children involved. So, we did it. We moved in a huge apartment, and I was the stepmother to innocent lives.
I modeled on the only model I knew - my own step-parent and my own experience as a step-child. I was 'nice safe lady'. It was the hardest and most bizarre year of my life - the first one. There's a model plane that Andrea made that he made on the day that our marriage was the most WTF. We never really gelled. We didn't start getting along until the big fight on like month three when we were both numb from drinking but a barb emerged: "I feel like you think you made a big mistake but now that you're so stubbornly set you won't admit it - I feel like you're gone from me but here in body."
oh narcissi. the incessant poking at the external emotional function.
I had expected lots of events and loads of dad duty things. It was bizarre how this family did it. Grace, when we were friends called them the "feel nothings". N described it more from the inside as always surface - always talking about a game - never talking about anything interesting. Narcissi had really been alone for a long time as for her connection was that "ok, shit. what is going on in life. how ARE you. tell me everything." yet, she knew the ranking of the stepmother. So she did what she loved that her own stepfather did: she made the spouse happy and was hands-off.
"it's so hard how triggering all of this is. It's like I've married into my own original family except I get to see what it's like when they have a minimal amount of love and maximum in the case of the boy and how very obvious it was that I did not get it."
In other words, I worked on it with my therapist. Before I cut my therapist off for finances. If only I had realized how rich I was then. It's all relative.
After the earthquake/nuclear-bomb/divorce, they were instructed to not contact me. One of the most touching things during the hell was them reaching out to me telling me they cared and they loved me and wanted to always be in touch. against their dad's orders. it was a moment that lifted me.
yet, here I sit. stewing in my own juices. cooking because it's cheaper/fear not that it's the reason I want love.
yawn.
hello Monday.
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