The Total Femme

Seth is working on taking up every atom of space in our lives right now. We are all obsessing about his motives, actions, health, well being. It’s his gift – to suck up all the attention like that. The flip side of charisma. I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it, despite me having tried to point it out to him many times.

Although he (finally) chose Umass Amherst for next fall, it looks a lot like he’s flunking out of school right now. He told me he wanted to go to college, but maybe he doesn’t? See, there we go. He won’t talk about it, so you have to try and figure things out but just end up in some big Seth fantasy that probably has little or nothing to do with the reality of what’s inside his head and heart. He holds onto these things so tightly. So parsimoniously. There’s no getting a clue.

When he was a baby, I used to amuse myself by thinking about things he might do to try and get my goat. Piercing, being queer, being sexual – none of those were going to bug me, as long as he was safe. Ok. Not being safe. Wanting to join the military. Getting a girl pregnant. Those things sounded a lot scarier, and, in fact, he did say he was going to join the army for a while there. And he smokes. And drinks. And is foul to everyone who loves him, even spilling over onto my venerable and vulnerable old parents who now live here. Upsetting. But lots of kids do that shit, and he hasn’t said anything about the military for a while. What I really, really didn’t see coming was not graduating from high school. I’m not saying he’s not going to, because with Seth, anything is possible, but let me just say that when I went on the Big Brother website (“power school”) earlier today, dude has all F’s.

I didn’t see a C-section coming, either, and was completely unprepared. Seth had the cord wrapped around his neck, tightly enough that he wasn’t going to budge without help. Hmm.

At his birth, the doctor and the midwife got him out, though, and he was ok. A little blue for a few moments there, but definitely ok. I was ok, too, after some grief counseling. I really wanted to have that baby naturally, in the birth center, but it was not to be.

Let’s add Misty* to the mix, just for complete disclosure. She is my ex and her gift is to infect everyone with her anxiety until the world is nothing but a miasma of horror and worst case scenarios. I am furious with her because she recently told me she won’t be paying any of Seth’s college tuition. I would like never to have to speak with her again, and am hoping that will one day be possible. Being “divorced to” someone mentally ill has taken a huge toll on all of us. “If I were me,” I find myself thinking these days, “what would I be doing?”

Probably indulging in a little empty-nest melancholy, but I can’t even do that, worried as I am that the nest may remain all too full.

Mama, I’m tired of this sad and unpleasant song. Let’s listen to this one instead: Brimful of Asha

*My ex; gets a new blog name periodically