Memoir of a single mother

Last photo of my family when we still had our house. In the front, Myself, and 2 granddaughter. Alexis, and Taytum. and back row; left to right, Jacob, Gabe, Krystal, and Antony. 

I was a single mother 4 years before I knew it. 

The one thing I want you to understand is, that you are getting a woman who has felt radically separated from most of the ideas that seem to interest people in this day and age. A woman who lost the slight faith she had in the social contract. 

Last photo of my family with my parents, since loosing the house. 

I never thought of  myself as a single mom. To me,  that had negative connotations, and my life was anything but negative. Did I struggle? Yes. Was it difficult at times? Yes. But the "single" term never entered my mind, nor my world. I had my parents, and family. I certainly never thought that I raised my children on my own. I was the primary caregiver, but I was never entirely on my own. 

When I was married, or the last few years of the marriage, I realized it was not a good one, but not able to pinpoint why.  Not in the marriage and not in the world in general. This comprehension came after I was divorced. Once I looked back at the marriage, I get like I had been in my own insular world. Whereas the outside world acted and thought differently than I did. 

My children, at the time, were 15, 11, 10, and 9. I suddenly found myself without the presence of a partner on a daily basis. I made some poor decisions right after my divorce. 1st in men, then in lifestyle. Going out, meeting people, engaging in the music scene again. Some of this I regret, but not all of it. 

One choice I was forced to make, was leaving the family home and splitting my children up. I had promised my oldest I would not leave him, and yet that is exactly what I did. Unfortunately it was through no fault of my own. This choice however, made him grow up faster than I wanted. 

Antony, my oldest son. I always had to fight for him. There was strife between his father and I, so the courts intervened through the years. The same for my granddaughter Alexis whom we had custody of. When I met and married their stepfather, I thought, at the time, this is good, They need this bond. They needed the stability that marriage afforded. The betrayal of that bond devastated both these kids. More than I knew, but did suspect. 

Jacob and Gabriel, my two middle son's, were Paul's children, but the betrayal was still the same for them. I had Gabe, my youngest at the time, caught in the middle of this nasty split. Caught in the middle of me, going a little bit crazy, but still trying for the facade of looking put together. I wrote a lot during the next 3 years after the divorce. 

My writing was about processing things that had not yet happened. It was a way to deal with things to come. My children growing up in a broken home. Moving on with their own lives and the loss and grief I went through, not having what my parents had. Separation, sorrow, pain and loss. A lot of it being dark because it was a dark time for me. 

Through all this, I fought to keep my family together. The impact the divorce had on all of us, was complete chaos. We had no anchor. There was no cohesive record of our time, because time then was not cohesive.  

Somehow, my children have survived this pretty well intact. Even with failed parenting techniques, they have come out the other side of our time together, as productive young men, with admirable goals and dreams, that make me a proud Mother.