Bachelor Hall III

Yesterday was rough between Hubs and I, but I am rather proud of how well we headed off the tit-for-tattery so that the children werenae frightened by it. No Sunday hugs between us, but the children continued to find us both equally huggable. I count that as good progress. I do feel secure allowing children to serve as my most honest and direct emotional barometer. If the children remain calm, I believe I am holding steady. 

In my strictly personal heart, the only thing of value to me in Bachelor Hall is the eldest son (ES, 39) who has been languishing in abject isolation and apathy for ? ? ? allot of years. I continue to be haunted by the question of which of my sons died first. The increasingly obese shadow lumbering in taciturn silence through Bachelor Hall is only vaguely reminiscent of the not-so-young man who may or may not have even noticed my departure for South America in 2002, much less any of my life outside domestic servitude since.

Between Hubs and I, yesterday's conflict was about his current partner in co-dependency. I have taken to calling her, "The Safer Closed Door in Bachelor Hall." At present, I hold her as a Triple Ex in our lives, ES's ex-lover, Hubby's ex-employee and my ex-whatever. Her reasons for treating me like shit on her shoe remain a mystery nearly 4 months after she drove her bachelor vagueries back to Bachelor Hall, leaving Hubs and I to clean up the messes she and her new lover left behind. I amnae privvy to the inside scoop, but I had the distinct impression her new lover was as puzzled by the evolution as I was, but I am only guessing. Accurate info unavailable. I donae care to judge the woman, but I donae see the point in fielding her easily offended vagueries during this stressful juncture in our lives. The needs of mysteriously delicate middle aged children donae feel urgent enough to derail the needs of real children for. Don't go away mad, my diva. Just go away. Put your claims of independence where your actions are.

This habit of deflection is a long running co-dependent classic on both branches of our family tree and a dominant quality of the parenting Hubs and I nurtured our eldest son by. We argue long and hard enough about the peripheral elements that we donae ever arrive at a united understanding of or approach to the problem. Hubs, too, is haunted by the question of which of our sons died first, but his focus stayed on defending his current partner in co-dependency. I need to verify the time-line, but I believe they became partners in co-dependency during ES's first psychotic break after she came on-board in 2012. I detached from their antics as they fielded yet another round of the same intervention and rehab drama I had been trying since the middle 90's. I contributed some prayers that their participation would net results better than I had achieved, butttttaaa. . . Here Hubs and I are, 7 years later, wondering which of our sons died first. I havenae shared an actual conversation with my eldest son since the Tri-city shuffle which followed my FIL's passing in 2016. Rumor has it that nobody has had actual conversations with the still bloating bowl of jello behind the most intimidating door in Bachelor Hall, but ? ? ? Insert folk adage here. Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear. The beautiful hazel green eyes sinking into those ever puffier cheeks are as pain-ridden a set of eyes as I have ever looked into.

I remain uncertain of the fact and fiction of the exchange between Hubs and Triple X which triggered 2 days of tit-for-tattery between Hubs and I. Not that I much trust ex-reports, anyhoo. That is part of the problem. Hubs seems to have forgotten that she abandoned her LLC post mid-harvest, without notice, adding mightily to the landslides that are still rocking the farm. Whatever the whats of her closed door mysteries, she has been offering more problems than solutions. Can we *just* simplify the equation? One less variable set would be a gift right now. I think. Maybe. Letting God lead the dance.

Venting. . . Sorting. . .

Dentist appointments for the sisters this morning. Prayers that the final set up work on the house will commence this morning and work through to reasonable timing for the move-in. Just praying. . . Meditating for the serenity to keep this ship of fools on course in choppy waters. 

My belly hurts. . .