Everyone has a list of priorities, everyone has the thing that is most important to them, and the thing they live for. Well, almost everyone has that last one. For a very long time, I did not. I had the thoughts, you know the ones: "What's the point?" "I don't want to breathe anymore." "Better off." "No point sticking around." I don't have them so much anymore (I won't do it, don't call in the welfare checks just yet), not since I had my son, my reason to live.
I am well aware that it is very typical and now you think this will be a blog about my wonderful kid and the joys of motherhood. Absolutely not. As I said before, there are many layers of my life and I have 28 years of a backstory before my kiddo even enters the story. Even then, the story does not get all bright and shiny with a new take on life and everything magically gets better with a happy ending. Let's be clear, I love my child and he has brought an abundance of joy to my life, but the situation is not ideal and it came with much fear, struggles, sleepless nights, and more feelings of being a failure. I am a single mother (explanation soon to come) and I work full-time, online college full-time, and have no assistance from family (another explanation soon to come). I won't be one of those women who gush over motherhood and how it's always a magical time. 95% of the time being a mother is incredible, it saved my life. That 5% though, I don't have male genitals but I would say it's like getting kicked there on the hour every hour. It's rough.
I woke this morning to a one-year-old singing "mama" in his bed. Just singing, not crying, no fuss, singing to me. I cried. How messed up would I have to be to cry over that? Well, the thing is I haven't slept. He's been fighting a cold and was up all night crying because he couldn't breathe through his congestion, and I was so tired from multiple nights of this that I got frustrated and yelled when he spit out his dinner last night and made a mess on the floor by slapping the plate out of my hand. The shock on his face because I hardly ever yell and then the slow lip tremble came before he began crying. It broke my heart. I felt terrible and held him while apologizing over and over again. Then, like it never happened and I did no wrong, he's singing my name first thing in the morning. It hurt and made me feel terrible, and I kept thinking I was a bad mother for ever getting frustrated over him. I went and got him, changed him, brought him to my bed, and played with him until he was telling me he was hungry. The giggles that came from him this morning reminded me why I would never give up and even though I would have moments of weakness, I'll always be trying to do better for him.
But stay tuned because those dark thoughts I would have, more so before him, there is a reason. There are things about my upbringing that I learned the hard way are not normal. Usually ends up with people looking at me funny and me not realizing until a moment too late I may have said too much. I want to share that with you. It's going to be a lot and not for the faint of heart. There will be a trigger warning at the beginning. So consider this post a warning. I want to finally tell someone the story. The whole story, the details I could never tell anyone else. Here is your warning, a backstory soon to come but please remember, I have my reason to live now. I don't need to be checked into a facility or forced into a therapy office. I just need someone else to know the truth. I just need one other person in this world to see my story and know where the scars come from, not just the visible ones.
-Rose-
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