...in fact, I am not strong at all. And that worries me. I am afraid of the future without us in it. I can't and don't really want to try to do this on my own. That is a horrendous thing to say and/or post, but there it is. This week has been tenuous (my hold on hanging in there) at best. No, I could never ever, not ever, put my children through losing both their parents after a wonderfully "normal" childhood.
My son is big on feeling safe and being secure. All of that has been ripped away from him and he hangs on to me ferociously and I do feel like I am failing. Instead of to do lists, I could be writing things not done lists. My mind, most days, is trapped on memories in the past that then bring on heaving, wrenching, ugly sobs. Not the quiet tears that I know many people think I should have progressed to by now. I. NEED. Him. God, if you had only known this man. He loved me. He cared for me. He thrilled me. There is no strength here...only dully plodding through life, after waking up and reliving the three most horrendous days of my life. I keep attempting to write exactly what happened that weekend here. It was the weekend we decided to buy land and build. Now that doesn't make sense, does it? None of it does.
To begin the story, I would have to tell you that we didn't take our daughter's problems seriously enough. (This is where I mention that I might delete these posts at a later date because I love her and I don't want to hurt her but she figures so hugely in this). What we thought originally was a severe case of spoiled brattiness was something more. She craves attention, needs for people to care for her. The normal attention that parents give to their children is just not enough for her. Which led, 7 years ago for her to tell a friend that we would throw her down the stairs when her room wasn't clean. The friend told a parent. The parent told the principal at her school (we were new to the school) and before you know it, CPS was at our door. Luckily, after speaking with me, observing her happy, well cared for brother, inspecting her room (which was a mess, and we were told that children who are beaten for unclean rooms usually have spotless rooms) and realizing it was the only disaster area in the house, they found no cause for child removal, charges etc. But, it broke my heart. And my husband's. He had adopted her when she was 8, after being her daddy from the time she was a baby. He had chosen her. And she had rejected us both, in favor of attention. We put her into counseling, and the end result was that "your child is spoiled. She is used to getting her own way and will stop at nothing to obtain it. She is, at this time, unable to admit to mistakes." I still have the paperwork. She was in counseling for a year and a half, considered helped, and the sessions ended. I should have never done that.
I am exhausted this evening. I don't wish to leave you hanging but I don't have the mental ability to relate the rest of the tale tonight. This blog is the dark side of the story, as if there is a bright side. I have to spill it out. I have written it on paper and burned the paper...written it again, and burned it again. It is almost as if it is a penance. Stupid Catholic upbringing.
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5 comments:
And that is why we're here. To read it and help you throw it in the fire.
I just started reading you after the Constance revolution, but I went back yesterday through your archives. I find so many of your words ringing true with my experiences with grief. Although my loss cannot begin to compare to yours, I lost a love, too. While we were young, lacked the history you shared with your husband and had no kids, I remember feeling like a third wheel. Looking around at his parents--who had each other--his sister--who had her husband--and thinking, "What about me?" Your story about your mom and his mom trying to be competitive in their grief? My mom once told me that "she loved him first" because she taught him math in the sixth grade.
I share these things not to make it about me, but to let you know that you are not insane. You have suffered an unbearable loss. You are allowed to feel that. Some of the things you feel, wish, and do may seem crazy, but grief is a crazy thing. I wish there was a different way to deal with grief than going through it, but there is not. You will make it.
It sounds like your daughter's troubles just make the ache of missing your husband more acute. I am so sorry.
Oh girl ~ if it helps AT ALL - I was adopted at 3 & my parents had a son when I was 7. I started acting out to get attention & then at one point during first grade I started crying on the playground & told a little girl that I wanted my mom, she said she would tell the teacher & I said "NO I want my REAL Mom" The teacher told my mom & they sat down with me & realized I needed some help dealing with life.
At two seperate points I had psychologists tell my mom the same speech you got - almost verbatim.
I turned out (basically) sane & normal. I can function well in society & even have a family of my own now.
Some kids need more attention & extra help dealing with life. Sometimes they act out for no good reason ~ and sometimes for excelent reasons. I'm sorry this isn't getting any better ~ but you are doing the right thing putting her back in counseling. (((HUGS)))
Let it out girl, your pink neighbors are here for you.
I think all of us apartment dwellers have some angst to deal with.
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