Done. It is done. [whispers] Done.
That's it. Last one. [whisp... gasps] Hhhh... oh.
Time, where did it go? [gasp... weeps; deep breath] Just one more week... try to cheer up.
I need more time... [breathe...] ...more time to make it all up to you.
Meet me half way, [whispers] okay?
I love you so much. [sighs] Don't lose your way.
... [softly] Sleep my youngest one,
For tomorrow brings a new day.
* A mother's thoughts on the last time registering a child for school.
Until tomorrow ~ Lil
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Big Mistake
Yesterday I proudly tweeted:
#Today I was braver and bolder than yesterday. Asked: "Are you "with us" or without?"
Whisper of response to my question was a barely audible "With you." All right, then.
Today, I discovered how terribly wrong I've gone about EVERYTHING.
I have a clue. I've made a mistake. A big, BIG mistake. I've made so many mistakes! And, it's too late to try to fix. Damage done. AND... it's all my fault. All of it. I've known all along. And, I guess I just thought being a pushover would do more good than actually getting pushed around. Oh my God. I hate how strong this emotional blow feels.
How could he possibly think our boy wasn't interested in college! How could he be so wrong? Why didn't I bother him with all the details while he was away. I should have said, "NO," that January when that job offer finally came. He was offered a job which required him to work on project out of the country. But he "had" to take it - our health insurance was about to cease. We needed to keep my illness managed. We needed to keep his health managed. We needed to do everything possible to restore our situation after he had been laid off from his VP job. He should not have left us, because the inevitable - what we are going through now -could not be avoided. I KNOW THAT NOW. What happened after Texas lay-off should have been proof enough!
I didn't think - really, really THINK. How could I have been so thoughtless. It pains me so badly that, today, he is of the assumption that our beautiful, boy would not have dreamed of going to college? After all, we - my boy and I - worked so hard to keep his spirits up, to not let him become discouraged by his self imposed burden of being "the man of the house" while dad was away. He was just a boy. A boy who needed his dad home to teach him to drive, to share yard work, to shovel snow, to help keep us all safe from harm, especially the girls. He needed dad to protect him from fear of everything a kid faces as he nears young adulthood.
But dad had to leave. And we only saw him about 100 days over three years. And, although there were nightly telephone calls to check in, they were minimal. He'd call each of us on our cell phones, I don't know what was shared. Now I wish I did. I wish I could have sat by and listened to the kids as they said good night. I wish I would have thought to bother him with the mundane. Our boy was struggling; depression was overtaking his ability to manage studies. I was doing the best I could while being scared everyday.
But, that was what the university and film school t-shirts were all about... lifting his spirits, planting the seed of possibility in his head. He wore his NYU t-shirt while studying for SATs. He shared photo of himself wearing UCLA Film School logo in front of dvd collection to be shown during his EDCSD cyber-school graduation bio presentation. He worked so hard to turn his grades around... make us proud. Of course, he wanted to go to college. I'm sure still does; still wants to study film. He does study film. We don't sit here for hours talking about the movie we just watched; he's hashing it out, he's researched it. He knows the director's work. From production, to marketing, to box-office, critique... He does a complete study of the film. That's why I always have a headache after we've viewed a movie together; for the most part, we've discussed it from it's inception to the very end - whether why it became an award-nominated film or never had stood a chance. Hit or miss, it's a new lesson in movie-making each time.
Of course, he wanted to go to college. But he wasn't going to insist we make it happen for him, especially the way his grades were suffering. Especially since the school let him down so tragically when they ignored his calling to attention the cheating problem he discovered among his peers. He was let down when teachers, counselors and administrators turned on him, made him seem the one doing all the wrong. I'm getting sick just going over it in my head as I type. We let him down. All of us. He was supposed to go to college. But, instead, he's feeding us. Working his job at the bookstore; bringing home pay to put food on the table.
His sister was not the only who received onslaught of constant mailings from colleges and universities during junior and senior year, our boy did too. But I guess Dad missed it all while he was away.
*****
Our boy:
I'm sorry we forgot. Dad forgot how important it was to teach you how to drive. Did we forget about that letter to Disney Adventures magazine you had me write to tell them that you wanted to work for Disney after watching The Lion King... you were just a tiny boy then. I've never forgotten. I should have told your sisters everyday, how lucky we were to have you here at home, protecting us everyday that dad was away. I wish I could have been stronger. But mostly, I regret the "I give up." example I've set. Sorry about all the mistakes I've made. So, so sorry; so very, very sorry.
Please, please, please know... I WILL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU. I'm so proud to be your mom.
Whisper of response to my question was a barely audible "With you." All right, then.
Today, I discovered how terribly wrong I've gone about EVERYTHING.
I have a clue. I've made a mistake. A big, BIG mistake. I've made so many mistakes! And, it's too late to try to fix. Damage done. AND... it's all my fault. All of it. I've known all along. And, I guess I just thought being a pushover would do more good than actually getting pushed around. Oh my God. I hate how strong this emotional blow feels.
How could he possibly think our boy wasn't interested in college! How could he be so wrong? Why didn't I bother him with all the details while he was away. I should have said, "NO," that January when that job offer finally came. He was offered a job which required him to work on project out of the country. But he "had" to take it - our health insurance was about to cease. We needed to keep my illness managed. We needed to keep his health managed. We needed to do everything possible to restore our situation after he had been laid off from his VP job. He should not have left us, because the inevitable - what we are going through now -could not be avoided. I KNOW THAT NOW. What happened after Texas lay-off should have been proof enough!
I didn't think - really, really THINK. How could I have been so thoughtless. It pains me so badly that, today, he is of the assumption that our beautiful, boy would not have dreamed of going to college? After all, we - my boy and I - worked so hard to keep his spirits up, to not let him become discouraged by his self imposed burden of being "the man of the house" while dad was away. He was just a boy. A boy who needed his dad home to teach him to drive, to share yard work, to shovel snow, to help keep us all safe from harm, especially the girls. He needed dad to protect him from fear of everything a kid faces as he nears young adulthood.
But dad had to leave. And we only saw him about 100 days over three years. And, although there were nightly telephone calls to check in, they were minimal. He'd call each of us on our cell phones, I don't know what was shared. Now I wish I did. I wish I could have sat by and listened to the kids as they said good night. I wish I would have thought to bother him with the mundane. Our boy was struggling; depression was overtaking his ability to manage studies. I was doing the best I could while being scared everyday.
But, that was what the university and film school t-shirts were all about... lifting his spirits, planting the seed of possibility in his head. He wore his NYU t-shirt while studying for SATs. He shared photo of himself wearing UCLA Film School logo in front of dvd collection to be shown during his EDCSD cyber-school graduation bio presentation. He worked so hard to turn his grades around... make us proud. Of course, he wanted to go to college. I'm sure still does; still wants to study film. He does study film. We don't sit here for hours talking about the movie we just watched; he's hashing it out, he's researched it. He knows the director's work. From production, to marketing, to box-office, critique... He does a complete study of the film. That's why I always have a headache after we've viewed a movie together; for the most part, we've discussed it from it's inception to the very end - whether why it became an award-nominated film or never had stood a chance. Hit or miss, it's a new lesson in movie-making each time.
Of course, he wanted to go to college. But he wasn't going to insist we make it happen for him, especially the way his grades were suffering. Especially since the school let him down so tragically when they ignored his calling to attention the cheating problem he discovered among his peers. He was let down when teachers, counselors and administrators turned on him, made him seem the one doing all the wrong. I'm getting sick just going over it in my head as I type. We let him down. All of us. He was supposed to go to college. But, instead, he's feeding us. Working his job at the bookstore; bringing home pay to put food on the table.
His sister was not the only who received onslaught of constant mailings from colleges and universities during junior and senior year, our boy did too. But I guess Dad missed it all while he was away.
*****
Our boy:
I'm sorry we forgot. Dad forgot how important it was to teach you how to drive. Did we forget about that letter to Disney Adventures magazine you had me write to tell them that you wanted to work for Disney after watching The Lion King... you were just a tiny boy then. I've never forgotten. I should have told your sisters everyday, how lucky we were to have you here at home, protecting us everyday that dad was away. I wish I could have been stronger. But mostly, I regret the "I give up." example I've set. Sorry about all the mistakes I've made. So, so sorry; so very, very sorry.
Please, please, please know... I WILL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU. I'm so proud to be your mom.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
October 19th ~ So, What Do You Do?
Ha ha... What do I do? Ha! Huh. What do I do? I don't do anything!
See, unlike all you normal, chemically balanced brain people, who are working at a job, leading productive lives, raising amazing families, there are some of us - I think the stats are 1 in 6 Americans (no idea on how many who are in-between treatment due to financial demise) - we struggle. Sometimes all we have in us is the desire to make it through the day.
www.bringchange2mind.org
I'm having low and lower moments more than anything. Today's a tough one. I discovered a mom's blog yesterday, about a family who very recently lost their young son; leaving a sister to now be an only child. It broke my heart. That woman's story brought back an ache in my heart I had not felt in a very long time. It was sorrow - a deep, painful sorrow - I felt, and it kinda felt just as good as it did bad. Still haven't recovered from it yet.
The Bridge: One Terrible Night http://aninchofgray.blogspot.com/2011/10/bridge-one-terrible-night.html
Anyway, this confirms something I've often wondered about: Who or what's going to be there when and if I'm ever off my medication for bipolar disorder? I'm learning - or more like feeling - what that may be. And it's sometimes great - like when I discover I have a beaming smile on my face, or having a hearty laugh - but mostly, it's horrible. I'm sad a lot. Sad and depressed. That I don't like. I don't like feeling crippled by whatever it is that my brain isn't rigged to handle like it would for a normal person.
There was a time when if someone casually asked me what I did, I'd jokingly say "I'm a professional crier." Now that I think about it, I was more of an expert crier. But, I hardly ever cry anymore. Over the last 20 years I have learned that, although not the best medicine, laughter is critical to my well-being, but even "the funny" is not cutting it. Reading has always been a very effective way to conquer low points... problem now: my brain function is impaired to the point where reading has become a chore. Hell... simple conversation with my kids is getting harder and harder each day. Mental illness sucks, right?
Day-to-day experiences of all my favorite things are now marred by my chemically imbalanced brain. What brings me to the verge of tears most is how unavailable I am to my kids. It makes me extra sad that I don't know if they've ever known the real me... I have been on some course of treatment for depression, PTSD, PMDD, Bipolar Disorder, chronic pain syndrome, fibromyalgia, their entire lives. Heck, I was even treated for borderline Lupus when they were all tiny. (In those days I didn't even have the strength to push them on a swing.) Last few years they almost lost me to toxic gall-bladder infection, then onset of asthma. This week is Fall break and my girls are home for the week. My oldest daughter is working on her college applications and essay, my youngest trying to keep from being bored by asking friends for drawing requests via Facebook. My boy, hangs out, waits for me to be available to sit and enjoy our favorite shows together or chat about his favorite things. I'm doing the best I could.
But, I'm not going to lie... I hate that my kids have to deal with mom disappearing into wherever it is untreated illness leads me. I don't want them to see me like this. I've only done the very best I could for them all these years. I had them and they are the best people I've ever met... They are my dream come true. I love that they are the reason I smile everyday. I've done the best I could. So, when I hear about other moms who are going about their business of being the best mommy they can be, under whatever circumstances and situations being judged; getting put down, it crushes me. What might that judgement be of me? I don't even want to know (actually, probably very similar to how a "caring" family member might be... hurtful.). My advice: Be nice. Listen to yourselves moms: "Play nice."
So. What do I do? I'm a mom.
See, unlike all you normal, chemically balanced brain people, who are working at a job, leading productive lives, raising amazing families, there are some of us - I think the stats are 1 in 6 Americans (no idea on how many who are in-between treatment due to financial demise) - we struggle. Sometimes all we have in us is the desire to make it through the day.
www.bringchange2mind.org
I'm having low and lower moments more than anything. Today's a tough one. I discovered a mom's blog yesterday, about a family who very recently lost their young son; leaving a sister to now be an only child. It broke my heart. That woman's story brought back an ache in my heart I had not felt in a very long time. It was sorrow - a deep, painful sorrow - I felt, and it kinda felt just as good as it did bad. Still haven't recovered from it yet.
The Bridge: One Terrible Night http://aninchofgray.blogspot.com/2011/10/bridge-one-terrible-night.html
Anyway, this confirms something I've often wondered about: Who or what's going to be there when and if I'm ever off my medication for bipolar disorder? I'm learning - or more like feeling - what that may be. And it's sometimes great - like when I discover I have a beaming smile on my face, or having a hearty laugh - but mostly, it's horrible. I'm sad a lot. Sad and depressed. That I don't like. I don't like feeling crippled by whatever it is that my brain isn't rigged to handle like it would for a normal person.
There was a time when if someone casually asked me what I did, I'd jokingly say "I'm a professional crier." Now that I think about it, I was more of an expert crier. But, I hardly ever cry anymore. Over the last 20 years I have learned that, although not the best medicine, laughter is critical to my well-being, but even "the funny" is not cutting it. Reading has always been a very effective way to conquer low points... problem now: my brain function is impaired to the point where reading has become a chore. Hell... simple conversation with my kids is getting harder and harder each day. Mental illness sucks, right?
Day-to-day experiences of all my favorite things are now marred by my chemically imbalanced brain. What brings me to the verge of tears most is how unavailable I am to my kids. It makes me extra sad that I don't know if they've ever known the real me... I have been on some course of treatment for depression, PTSD, PMDD, Bipolar Disorder, chronic pain syndrome, fibromyalgia, their entire lives. Heck, I was even treated for borderline Lupus when they were all tiny. (In those days I didn't even have the strength to push them on a swing.) Last few years they almost lost me to toxic gall-bladder infection, then onset of asthma. This week is Fall break and my girls are home for the week. My oldest daughter is working on her college applications and essay, my youngest trying to keep from being bored by asking friends for drawing requests via Facebook. My boy, hangs out, waits for me to be available to sit and enjoy our favorite shows together or chat about his favorite things. I'm doing the best I could.
But, I'm not going to lie... I hate that my kids have to deal with mom disappearing into wherever it is untreated illness leads me. I don't want them to see me like this. I've only done the very best I could for them all these years. I had them and they are the best people I've ever met... They are my dream come true. I love that they are the reason I smile everyday. I've done the best I could. So, when I hear about other moms who are going about their business of being the best mommy they can be, under whatever circumstances and situations being judged; getting put down, it crushes me. What might that judgement be of me? I don't even want to know (actually, probably very similar to how a "caring" family member might be... hurtful.). My advice: Be nice. Listen to yourselves moms: "Play nice."
So. What do I do? I'm a mom.
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