The Pick Up

I drove eight hours to go get my son.  He made it in nearly the same time...but much later.  My emotions are on edge.  I am exhausted and have eaten only crap for a couple of days.  Christmas was not what I expected, but it was an adventure.
But, this morning, I heard that my other son that has had my car has done a couple of damaging things.  It's hard...he was equating whether I love him with whether I would be upset or not.  Reminds me of the past, I think.  I can love and be sad or upset.  It's only stuff.  It's not that.  It's the assumption that I'm not allowed to have emotion.  That it hurts others if I am anything less than totally accepting of their actions.  I can dislike actions and still love and accept someone.  I was just tired.  I was sweet.  And kind.  And they are way more important than stuff....but I am learning that I don't want to be manipulated.
Speaking of which...got home after eight hours in the car with a very talkative kid.  He told his whole story from his whole life as much as he could remember.  He said what hurt him.  What made him angry. He talked about his trip.  He talked about the past.  He talked about the pain.  He talked about the things that I know but have rarely been understood when I voice.....the discrepancy with how things look and how things are.  It was intense.  It was beautiful.  He was...freed.  Somehow the trip unlocked it all. And...he said that the trip made him realize how much he appreciates me.  Aw.  He was verbally thankful to me for "breaking up."  I am so glad that he is another step towards healing.  He is amazing.
We drove and drove.  Finally got home.  Unloaded.  Made him some mac and cheese.  I sat down.  Then remembered that I had left my charger in the car.  Went to get it and spied a present on the porch with my name on it.  I was so excited.  So happy.  I hadn't received any gifts in the mail or anything like that this year.  I opened it.  Had a card.  It was a fruitcake.  The card had a letter.  The note talked about my marriage.  How they are praying for me.  How sad it is.  Blah blah blah.  How we had helped them once upon a time to pay their rent when their business was just beginning.  It hurt me.  A lot.  Took my breath away.
But ya know, I made it through Christmas.  Alive.  Well.  I got to hear my so laugh.  Really laugh.  And see him cry.  When he needed to.  I've heard him tell his story.  Like popping a pimple...he had to be squeezed and pushed.  And then....there it all came.  And he loves me.  Wow.  And he's sorry that I have to take it when he's irritated and I'm the one around.
So many insights that boy had.  He's putting his pain together too.  Understanding it.  Turning it over in his hands and learning why he felt so awful.
He doesn't feel like his dad cared for him much.  I got to explain my revelation...that maybe he doesn't not care about us but not see us as much as he sees himself.  I told him that I think that it's something in his dad that holds his dad back from loving rather than something in my son that makes him unlovable..which is how he feels.
Now, a few days left of break.  Very few.  I'm worn out and I have a lot to do.  Around the house and for school.
I am really tired...it's now yet another day later.  Emotions drain energy.  And...revitalize within over time.
I am so disappointed in my ex.  He makes me ill.  Totally.
I talked with my son openly.  That will probably bite me in the butt.  But, he had things he needed to know.  He's 18.  I just tried to do it all while letting him know that he's in charge of who he becomes, that his dad did they best he could and that one day perhaps they will have something better.  I did speak the truth about how his dad behaved.  But, not in a manner that was vengeful nor disrespectful.  Just to validate my hurting son.
Gotta make a life from today.
blessings.