Ever had one of those days?
You know, the ones that find you on the phone with the police at 7:00 am and by 3:30 pm you have an order of protection for your family and by 7:00 pm you find yourself pawning your wedding bands to get their horrible bad juju out of your life?
You know, a quiet, uneventful day...
Yeah, that was yesterday.
Today consists of us at home, making carmel kicks, monkey bread, and watching March of the Penguins. Morgan Freeman could make a root canal sound appealing.
Many years ago, I basically cut off contact with my biological family because they were a bunch of alcoholics, wife beaters, child abusers, and drug addicts. I grew up in the custody of my aunt and so was a little removed from the Jerry Springer antics but I certainly knew OF them. My aunt was really well known for trying to "save" people, myself included. There was always someone living at her home who had washed up on the beach somewhere, a near fatality of the insanity that was life in our family.
I always vowed to rise above it. I hated telling people my last name when I was a kid or young adult because if that person had any connection to the police or social services, they would arch up an eyebrow as if to say "OOOOHHHH! I've heard of YOUR family!" I would never hang around the losers that pervaded my childhood. I would do better.
Well, hopefully in a very short time, my soon to be ex will be in jail. When I spoke to his sister regarding what a horrible person he was, she told me something that has turned my guts inside out ever since.
I knew he was a troubled kid but I didn't know he had been turned over to foster care as a teen because he was out of control. I also didn't know that his biological family was glad when he married me because they thought I could "save" him.
It makes me think back to when my brother married a woman and at a family function, I approached her and said "I have one word for you in regards to this family...run."
Looking back at their marriage, it was probably the best advice she never heeded.
No one ever told me I was signing up to be someone's savior seventeen years ago. As they say, hindsight is 20/20.