“If we really want this thing to work we gotta go to war….” Avant, ‘When It Hurts
I better start asking “will you love me when it hurts,” because it’s hurting more and more. This blended family thing is an experiment in futility ; or at least it seems so sometimes. Inevitably, no matter how much we profess to be all about “ours,” the “mine mentality ” seems to be underlying every decision.
If I thought children were unwilling pawns in relationship chess before, I’m certain of it now. Except I forgot to figure in the other pieces playing the board. The castle, or career and financial dealings . The Knights, our siblings. The bishops, in-laws and family elders. And though there’s only one king and one queen on this board, they often play on opposing sides instead of as a ruling, supporting pair.
Frankly, I’m not sure I want to spend life in a game of strategic action. I’ve got apps for that. But honestly, if the extended family is constantly invited in to cause strife and further divide, there’s no winning. It’s one thing to confide in someone – to seek a listening ear that doesn’t connect to a wagging tongue. It’s another to entertain intrusion, confusion and, ultimately isolation.
I’m ready to lay my piece down and declare game over. I can’t see putting children through an endless, destructive game.