This has been a week, and it is only Tuesday. Everything is so hard, really hard. Both of my kids are crashing around me each in their own different ways. Resorting to coffee and the promise of writing to soothe my soul.
I never imagined or could conceive that life could get THIS hard….but it has. Everything feels hard, like I swallowed a fireball and can’t choke it all the way down. So it’s stuck in the back of my throat, waiting for me to open my mouth so I can stuff it back down to where it doesn’t burn. It really feels like I’m burning up from the inside most of the time. I am failing as a parent. Each time I try something new for my high needs kid, and it works, he does something so we have to stop using this particular path, or that one. It’s constant and never-ending . Maybe it’s not really, but that is how it feels to me. I question each decision I make, and when I’ve made the decision, I can’t quit second guessing myself. I love this kid so much. I adore him and he’s breaking my heart.
My kid’s a former preemie. He was sick in the beginning. After 15 years, it’s hard to get out of that mindset…of catering…coddling…making sure he is good. Making sure homework is done, and it seems that has backfired. So his dad and I keep talking, re-evaluating our plans for him. We go back and forth between thinking he will be okay, to thinking we will have to admit him to the children’s mental health facility.
So I sit here, watching the child of my heart, struggling so bad. Its face, is an older version of his baby face. He’s lost. He’s wandering with no path. I don’t know how to help him.
my montana lair 