I’m doing my best, so why is everything still falling apart?

What it feels like when you show up, stay steady, and still can’t fix what matters most

I showed up. That part still matters.

Holy crap, I feel like my life is out of control.

Not in a dramatic, everything-is-burning kind of way. More like a constant pressure—things stacking up, pulling in different directions—and no matter what I do, it doesn’t seem to land the way it’s supposed to.

I’ve been trying to do things right.

Stay calm.
Think before I react.
Be present for my kids without making things worse.

And lately, it feels like none of that is changing anything.

My second daughter’s birthday was May 29.

She’s been having some kind of issue with her mom. I don’t have the full story—I probably never will. I tried reaching out to my ex to get her side of it, but I got nothing back.

And that’s been a recurring theme.

Trying to do the right thing… and getting nowhere.

My daughter told me her mom bought takeout for everyone except her. I don’t know the full context, but I know how that feels from a kid’s perspective.

I tried to make plans to see her, and she told me she was depressed and didn’t want to see anyone.

That one stuck.

Because as much as I want to be there for my kids, I can’t force it.

And that’s a hard thing to accept as a parent.

A few days later, I went to my other daughter’s ceremonial review.

I showed up early. Found a seat. Stayed out of the way.

I was proud of her.

My ex showed up late—basically when it was over.

Afterwards, I tried to talk to my daughter, but it turned into the usual dynamic. Later on, my daughter told me her mom said I was “following her around.”

I wasn’t.

I stayed in my seat the entire time. I actually went out of my way to avoid any interaction.

Still didn’t matter.

And that’s the part that’s been getting to me.

There’s a part of this that’s been eating at me.

I feel like I’m doing everything right—and I’ve got nothing to show for it.

I tried to communicate. No response.
I showed up. Didn’t matter.
I kept my distance. Still got accused of something I didn’t do.
I try to be there for my kids—and sometimes they don’t even want to see me.

People in my life have told me this is a win.

That watching my ex make a fool out of herself somehow puts me ahead.

But I don’t see it that way.

Because my kids are in the middle of it.

There’s nothing about that that feels like a win.

If anything, it feels like I’m being forced to accept something I don’t want to accept—that doing the right thing doesn’t guarantee anything.

Not respect.
Not peace.
Not even a relationship with the people you care about most.

And that’s a hard place to be.

I met up with my daughter earlier this week, and something else has been bothering me.

I’m starting to get concerned about the kind of things my kids are hearing.

Not just disagreements or tension—but things that don’t feel appropriate for them to be carrying.

At one point, my daughter told me her mom was talking about how “all the guys” in her placement want her.

And I just sat there thinking—

Why is a 14-year-old being pulled into that?

That’s not about me. I don’t care what her mother does in her personal life.

What I care about is what my kids are being exposed to, and how that shapes the way they see relationships, themselves, and the people around them.

And again—it’s another thing I don’t get to control.

I can’t control what gets said.
I can’t control how it’s interpreted.
I can’t control what my kids believe in the moment.

I also found out recently that my oldest—who doesn’t speak to me—wrote my name and number on a wall somewhere downtown with something about me that isn’t even true.

I’ve been getting random calls since.

That’s a whole different kind of frustration.

Not anger—just… disappointment.

That things have gotten to that point.

So yeah.

Things feel out of control.

And for a while, I kept coming back to the same thought—

If I just had more information… more access… more ability to step in…

Maybe I could fix this.

But I’m starting to realize that’s not how this works.

Lately, I’ve been trying to hold onto something simple:

Be quick to listen.
Slow to speak.
Slow to get angry.

That’s been sitting with me lately.

Not because it sounds good.

Because I’ve seen what happens when I don’t live that way.

Reacting doesn’t fix this.
Forcing things doesn’t fix this.
Trying to control outcomes I don’t have control over doesn’t fix this.

If anything, it makes it worse.

So now I’m in a different place with it.

I can’t control what my ex says.
I can’t control how my kids respond.
I can’t control how any of this plays out in the short term.

What I can control is how I show up in it.

That means being steady when things get messy.
That means not taking the bait when it’s right in front of me.
That means being someone my kids can come back to—even if it’s not today.

I don’t get to decide how this ends.

But I do get to decide who I am while I’m in it.

And right now, that has to be enough.