Eighteen Months Later

As of my last post, things were somewhat in limbo. My, how times have changed since then!

In late April 2017, Squishy and I got our own house. Renting, not buying, but at a great price in a nice neighborhood. A week after we moved in, I found out I was pregnant. It was a surprise, but not because we had an oops! We started trying to get pregnant at the beginning of April and apparently we were really, ie immediately, successful. It was awesome.

At the end of May, Squishy’s son came to live with us. We had specifically chosen this house to accommodate 3-4 kids plus ourselves, and it was a good arrangement. My kids went to daycare while I worked, and KS stayed home playing video games and doing whatever preteens do all day. Unfortunately the Brady Bunch dynamic wasn’t happening for us. I had higher expectations for KS than he was used to, as far as tidiness and courtesy. KS hated living with two little kids and having to “answer” to someone who was not his “real parent”. He’d had similar problems with his mom and stepdad, which is why he came to live with us in the first place.

Within a month, KS had been back to visit his mom and decided he wanted to go back and live with her. Squishy and his ex told him he would stay here for the summer and move back before school started. This would be his final move until age 18, as he had already moved back and forth between them three times. Everyone had had enough. In late August he went home to his mom’s.

As you may recall, Poke and I finally divorced in January of 2017. He was ordered to pay child support, and I spent all of February, March, and April fighting with him and his employer. It got to the point where CSEA was going to take both of them to court, and Poke was facing jail time. That was the final threat, and they began complying.

In June, Poke married some girl who lived in South Carolina. She was the ex of an acquaintance, and Poke and I once witnessed her bashing in the windows of our neighbor’s car at 2am. I guess absolutely insane was what he wanted in a wife. Anyway, I was glad that he was someone else’s responsibility now, and I hoped she’d somehow get him on the right path.

In July, JI turned six. As we were sitting at the Chinese buffet, just the two of us, I got a call from Poke’s brother. He informed me that Poke was in the ICU. Squishy came and got JI, and I ran over to the hospital. Poke was in a coma.

He had been drinking for nearly 18 hours with his ex girlfriend. They went to McDonald’s early in the morning, went back to her house, and fell asleep. At some point she noticed that he wasn’t breathing. The EMTs came, and it took 20 minutes to revive him. By the time I got there, he was on life support, completely, with all sources set to the max. He would not recover. Unfortunately Poke’s brother, mother, and I could not make the decision to remove him from life support; because he was married, we had to wait for a complete stranger to come from South Carolina and make the decision.

Poke coded three times during the night, and died just before 7am on the day after JI’s birthday.

I told JI what happened. He wanted to go see his dad, so I took him to the hospital. JI stroked his hair and touched his arm. The wife had arrived after 8am, and was there with her mother. They left us alone with Poke, and we cried. We cried like people in the movies, and I pounded on Poke’s chest. I was so angry for so many reasons. Angry that he’d not taken care of himself, that he’d left me alone with the boys, that he’d made such terrible decisions. Angry over petty things, like no more child support or health insurance for the kids. Angry that he’d broken his mother’s heart.

Over the next week, my angers retreated for rage. His friends were rallying on Facebook, and Poke became a saint. Everyone was “so shocked” by his death. At the service, folks got up and talked about what a “punch to the gut” it was to hear that he’d died. I wanted to punch them all in their faces. Where the fuck were they when Poke was losing his mind, attempting suicide three times in two months, twice in front of JI? Where were they when he tried a fourth time and his mother and brother had to call the cops to physically restrain him due to violent outbursts after drinking two bottles of whiskey, an assortment of other alcohol, and taking different pills he found? Where were all these people who allegedly loved him so much? Nowhere. They knew nothing of the real Poke. It made me sick to hear them prattle on while those of us who dealt with his demons on a daily basis were the ones who hurt the most.

…to be continued.

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Cave

I have decided to temporarily remove myself from society. Life has gotten to be far too stressful and hurtful, and I have not-so-suddenly found myself surrounded by far too many toxic people and situations. This is not to say that everyone in my life is bad for me; quite the contrary. I have a lot of good friends who help me through the day on a regular basis. The problem is just that though – my friends constantly have to help me through the day. I need to get my life to the point where I don’t need help just to be alive, where I don’t need reassurance just to exist. Let me make it perfectly clear, too, that I’m not suicidal. I want to live, I just don’t want to live like this.

I’ve already gone off Facebook, so if you follow my page, don’t worry, I’ll be back shortly. I hardly use Twitter, so that’s basically going to stay the same. I think that by focusing on myself and the boys, I’ll be able to actually work on this blog more, update my Instagram, which makes me happy because I love sharing, spend more time on Pinterest, which is really relaxing and inspiring for me, and hopefully be able to “get back to me” or whatever the cliche is. I just know that after the deaths of two of my good friends, a huge ridiculous argument with two people I thought knew me better than to have said argument, and the continuing harassment from my former daycare client, I had to go. It was all getting to be too much. I dreaded the phone ringing, I feared opening emails and private messages on Facebook, I even winced when I would get more than one text in a row. I was afraid to live my own life because I didn’t want to feel the next hurtful thing that someone would say or do to me. I can’t exist like that. I just cannot.

You may say, “Well, Kel-Bell, you’re still online, you’re still going out in public, you’re still posting, how are you removed from society?” I will answer this: I get to control those things. On Pinterest and Instagram, I get to choose what I look at and what people see much easier than on Facebook and in “real life”. When I go out in public, which I have done once since making this decision, I don’t look at anyone, I don’t seek out contact, I go do what I have to do and be done with it. Being off Facebook eliminates 90% of the problem, because even though I share all my business on there, and I do so knowing that I leave myself open to criticism and rejection and all kinds of negativity, I usually don’t get anything negative from my friends – it all comes from other places. For example, my former daycare client has taken to messaging all the people who left reviews on my business page, and she reported me to Facebook for a plethora of untrue things, making the simple act of logging in a five minute process. In order to connect with my friends, I have to read their personal stories and dramas, which is not a problem, except for when I can’t even handle my own. Leaving Facebook gives me space in my head to not think about things, and right now that’s exactly what I need.

I wish I could go live in a cave for a month. I wouldn’t even take the boys; I’d let them keep living life normally. I need to be secluded in a dark, quiet place, somewhere I can rest and recharge, so that I can be for once the good mother and friend I am supposed to be.

Heavy Heart

A dear friend of mine, whom I’ve known for over thirty years, has passed away. He had been in a coma for the past eighteen years after a horrible car accident. This song always reminded me of him.

“Adrian”
– Jewel