i'm psychopating like a beaten crazy bitch wolf over the prospect of seeing my eldest/estranged son (43) over the weekend of november 4th. i haven't laid eyes on him since his brother's funeral in october, 2019. we haven't had a civil conversation since his paternal grandfather's funeral in october, 2016. no, i don't count the conversations where he dubbed me, "toxic mom" as civil, despite the fact that the toxic people fad was all the rage at the time. not all fashion rages are civil.

of course, the anticipation is triggering yet another daisy-chain of flashbacks. while indulging in a sighful wish that i could simply forget all those painful recalls, i am testing my theory that flashbacks are not designed to torture. they are designed as lesson reviews of herstory i would rather not repeat. the toxic mom dance es and i have been dancing since the onset of his narcolepsy in his adolescent years is a not-so-merry-go-round i would like to get off of. perhaps i can learn something from the flashbacks. testing, 1, 2, 3. . .

the flashbacks seem to carry the homeless theme from the too many times i have 1) chosen homelessness as a safer option than living with family. i was 14 when i made that choice and had hit my proverbial bottom by the time of my first psychotherapy appointment at age 17. and 2) had to evict various of my 10 siblings and offspring to go live on the streets. leaning ever so gently into those flashbacks led me to the "pay it forward" approach to alleviating the guilt and self-loathing which resulted from imposing those harsh boundaries. in this therapy exercise, i deliberately sought out members of my peer support network who reminded me of whomever was haunting me at the time. i started with the elder sibling i call, "pimp sis" in my therapy journal. in addition to pimping me out as a child, i have had to evict her and her two abused daughters more than once. i learned quite allot over the course of sharing healing hopes with women who reminded me of her while remaining socially distant enough that i didn't have to worry about the "big sister right" to take over my life.

thoughts? experience? opines? am i on to something or just in need of unsolicited advice?

again i leave the mood icon on the rapid cycling median. i'm all over the emotional map this morning.

addendum: es has been homeless for about 2 years and is currently on yet another round of begging daddy for money. i quite deliberately study ignorance of that weary dance. that be theirs to sort.