A few months ago I found this website. I lurked for a bit and fought hard to not post my own poo poo up on the interwebs. However, that changed when I decided that I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts anymore. I won't let them isolate me anymore. 

My wife and I got married because despite our differences, we have very similar childhood trauma. Up until a few years ago, we didn't realize we were united by molestation because we were so busy running toward the next accomplishment and away from our pain. Sprint after sprint, medal after award, we weren't ever satisfied. We raised my step son in this type of environment and everything was going well until he had to face his own demons. And unlucky for us, he doesn't have the same DNA as me or my wife for burying childhood trauma with some earthly achievement. LOL. Nope, he takes after his biological dad and he locks himself in his room and only comes out to snarl and growl at people he sees as a threat. Too bad for me, he sometimes dissociates and sees me as the threat.

It really hurts because it wasn't always like this. When my stepson left for UC Berkley, he was calling me dad and using my GI Bill to have a full ride scholarship at one of the world's premiere universities. When he dropped out two years into his degree, he came back to my house and began his homecoming with a violent opposition to my basic house rules (wake up before 8:30AM on weekdays, get a job if you're not going to college, get a visa if you're going to live with us overseas, and get insurance). Two years since he moved back in, our relationship has gone from uncomfortable to down right civil war. 

To make matters worse, with the constant task of fending off my stepson's demons when they attack me, I can't concentrate on that next goal and stay one step ahead of my own psychological shit. So here I am, everytime my stepson comes into the room, my heart rate and blood pressure go berzerk, just like those biomarkers have always gone berzerk when I'm in the pressence of a threat. I try my best. I turn on my insight timer app and meditate. I journal. I do positive affirmations at night. I pray. But its all too much because on top of my son's heavy aggression, my wife is fighting her childhood demons too. And with all of this going on, she can't get enough success to ignore my stepson pulling the bandaid off everytime he wants to remind us of what an infection looks like.

Why?! Oh why! Why couldn't my stepson be like us and bury his shit with more and more egotisical pursuits.

Believe me, I'm laughing at myself as I write this.

This last weekend, once again, things came to a head. My wife and I went out for a date. I said I feel powerless in my house because I can't enforce basic rules that reflect my values. I brought up my jobless, penniless stepson sleeping at his girl friend's house many nights. I said if they have a baby, I won't know what to do. I said, him sleeping at her house is a violation of what our family stands for. I said I can't even bring it up because it will start a fight. I said if there is another fight, the police already promised if they have to come to my house again, then they are making arrests. My wife took this as an attack on her son so my wife decided to put me to the test. She asked me to get beer at the restaurant. I've been sober for two years. I said no fucking beer, I'm a fucking recovering alcoholic. She pointed out how I have problems too. We proceded to have a quiet but uncomfortable date.

Then on the way home, we were going to pick up my daughter from a friend's house. On the way, I tried to make a yellow light but obviously ran a red light. It was right in front of a group of police officers. I was super pissed at myself. My wife said she was holding back her anger and I shouldn't be so careless next time. I said, "I can easily point out your mistakes all the time too." My wife got pissed that I didn't own my mistake on the spot. 

Waiting outside my daughter's friend's house, my wife insisted that I not drive home. I said okay, maybe I am too tired. My daughter got in the car, my wife and I changed seats, and we took off. Less then ten minutes into my wife driving, she ran a red light and almost hit a pedestrian. Under my breath, I said, "you ran a red light." My wife got so pissed. LOL. She stamped her foot on the gas and whipped through traffic and to the side of the road. With my daughter in the back seat, my wife proceded to scream at me, "Get out of the car!" Over and over. I sat there in silence. My wife reached across the seat, opened my door and tried to push me out of the car. I silently didn't budge. My daughter sat in the back seat sobbing. My wife, blind with rage, finally got out of the car and left me there to drive my daughter home while my wife walked home. 

When we got home, I explained my side of the story to my daughter. When my wife got home from walking, my wife told her side of the story to my daughter. When my son got home from his girl friend's house the next day, he was happy as shit to see that mom and dad are fighting and he is not in the middle this time. 

I guess this is all going to be for the best. This morning I decided to start taping and documenting everything that happens in my life. I decided to start looking for a lawyer and aiming for 100% custody. I signed up to see a team of specialists who will help me deal with my shit as well as compile professional evidence that I'm a sane option for raising the biological daughter that I had with my wife. I set a goal of getting a clean bill of health within 3 months. This aligns with my prediction that around Christmas time, my wife and stepson will combine forces and try to throw me out. 

Or... Or... Who knows maybe I'll not only find the cure for my own childhood trauma but also bring peace to everyone else in my family with some miracle discovery. My stepson will have a safe and secure place to get his life in order. My wife will have a safe and secure place to tell her story, minus the lies. My daughter won't be cursed with a life where she has to constantly do calculus about which parent to trust.

I'll be able to live a healthy life where I get up in the morning, happy to be still. Not running toward the next empty pursuit. Not running away from the memories of shame.  Just happy with the truth. We're all screwed up. But at least we're not tearing each other apart for no reason.