When Everything Hits at Once

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly: A Graduation Story

The following post contains a messy combination of victory, anger, a splash of grief, celebration, pride, and more pettiness than I’m comfortable exposing publicly, but will now do so anyway.

My son graduated high school on Tuesday. He is my last biological child, so this graduation has hit me in a particularly bittersweet spot as a mother. This alone was enough reason to toss a package of tissues in my bag. Add in my former in-laws from my high-conflict divorce, my new in-laws, my ex-husband, my new husband all under one roof. I briefly considered tossing in a flask with the Kleenex, but I’m doing Keto currently so everything had to be faced stone-cold sober.

All of these deep intersections of my life caused an influx of very sloppy emotions. I have kindly listed all my moods below into chapters for easier reading:

Chapter 1: Pride

Despite my career as a college professor, I have not stressed grades with my children. My one parenting rule has always been Don’t Raise Assholes and as long as that was successful, everything else was icing on the cake. Not only have I been successful in not raising assholes, they both graduated with honors. More importantly, they are good people that others enjoy being around. They have good handshakes and make eye contact and have interests and passions that astound me. As a single parent for most of my children’s lives, I have been the sole caregiver, Uber driver, worrier, calendar-keeper, appointment-maker and rear-end-kicker. To watch my son cross the stage healthy, happy, stable, and with all manner of cords and medallions and pin attached to him made my heart burst with pride. I did that. He made it. They both made it. The kids are alright.

However, this quickly spiraled into…

Chapter 2: Anger

I have been embroiled in an intense custody battle that only recently ended when my son turned 18. I have been in court twice, the case has been appealed four times, and I stopped keeping tally when my legal fees hit $30,000. My home has been inspected. My colleagues, friends, and family members were questioned by attorneys about my parenting. I have been monitored and followed by private investigators who sat in cars outside my home and took photos. I was accused of child neglect, relapsing into my eating disorder, a lack of food in the house due to my alleged eating disorder, poor parenting, immorality - you name it.

While I cannot directly trace it to the case, my home was broken into in the middle of a summer night in 2018. My children slept in their beds while the two individuals made their way down the hallway, bypassing computers and purses and medication to gain access to our rooms. Our beloved German Shepherd fulfilled her role as protector and chased them out, while I went into full mama bear mode as I grabbed my 9mm and screamed obscenities at them as they ran out being chased by a very angry, very territorial dog.

The custody case was largely funded by my former in-laws. They have spent thousands upon thousands of dollars in legal fees to have my son removed from my home. They have called my parents, my church and my employers. They have multiple efforts to have me removed from my volunteer roles and from my job. They have spent an enormous amount of time and energy and resources to punish me for leaving my marriage.

The anger is there. Contained, but easily accessible if I let myself go there.

Chapter 3: A Splash of Grief

To see my former in-laws at graduation is still a mixed bag of feelings.

Anger, absolutely. It bubbles up like hot lava or wicked blue flames.

But they are now in their 80s and slowed by aging and time. They clutched each other and walked with obvious physical discomfort into the venue for graduation. Unaware of the clear bag policy , my former mother-in-law was confused and panicked by the security guard who insisted she could not bring her bag inside. I watched as fear and embarrassment splashed across her face. We locked eyes for a moment, and I attempted to give her a compassionate smile. She mouthed an embarrassed and apologetic I didn't know as my daughter took her purse from her to take back to the car.

I felt sadness. Grief. Pity.

And pops of intense anger like hissing, hot fireworks

But more than anything, I felt sorry for them.

I don’t know what to do with all those feelings.

I don’t know if I will ever know what to do with all those feelings.

Chapter 4: Pettiness

I wore my “revenge dress”. I felt and looked like a million bucks. It was glorious and I was proud of myself.

This is petty and superficial and shallow.

I have zero regrets.

Chapter 5: Celebration

My current in-laws attended graduation as well. This was a surprising last-minute add, as my father-in-law has an intense dislike of crowds and bad traffic situations. But they showed up for my boy and clapped harder than anyone. My mother-in-law and I sat chatting before the ceremony began, and I told her how much it meant to me that they were there. “We wouldn't have missed it for anything.”, she stated. Then she held my arm, and paused with tears forming in her eyes, and said “You’ve done a good job raising them. You are a good mom. They are good people.”

Within the span of about 8 minutes, I went from locking eyes with two people who spent thousands of dollars to prove I was an unfit mother, to this conversation. This woman locked eyes with me, who was there to support a child she was not biologically related to, who is 89 years old and who has raised five children… this woman just told me the words I have ached down in my soul to hear:

You are a good mom.

Six years of turmoil and chaos and weekend visitation and attorney fees and fear and anger and grief and rage and pictures snapped by strange men in cars outside my home and court appeals and phone calls and documenting everything.

You are a good mom.

Conclusion

So I sat at graduation, with my people.

My daughter, who has weathered the many funnel clouds of being a child of divorced parents. Who has witnessed and felt more pain than anyone ever should. Who has grown into a headstrong, determined, much-wiser-than-me young woman. A 25-year-old who still calls to have lunch with me and tell me about her life.

My in-laws, who love children that only came into their lives recently. To whom they have no blood relation, but love with a fierce unconditional bond regardless of DNA. They never hesitated, never questioned, never paused. It was love at first sight. There are no adequate words for the gratitude I feel over this.

My teenage stepsons, who gave up a Tuesday afternoon to listen to 480 diplomas being handed out, because that is what brothers do.

My husband, who has filled the gap with my son since day one. Who has held me as I cried and has listened to me rage into a cell phone with another attorney phone call and who has paid tuitions and fees and bills when I couldn’t. Who has done all of this without a complaint. Who constantly returns to the phrase We will figure it out when I am at my breaking point and screaming and crying and worrying.

We will figure it out.

We always do.