So I have decided to come back to my beloved blog. It has been a while. Things have changed, or are changing. Evolving, ever changing. Some for the better, some for the worse. And some, well some is maybe more understanding and empathy, age and maturity.
I have gone through all the stages of grief. The denial, the anger, the acceptance, and then the break through of wanting to change, needing to change, and finally changing. Maybe a little bit here, or a little bit there--not huge changes, but little ones. Constantly working, trying to change for the better--be a better mom, a better wife, friend, daughter. Trying to be a better me. Be better to myself. That one is the hardest.
I don't generally like or particularly love myself. Never have. Maybe I had the potential to, but that part of myself never blossomed or developed. For whatever reasons, it is in the past, and I don't really want to dwell in that past. But I can't get past this love/like yourself thing. I don't get it.
I love Rob like I have never ever loved. He is my other half. Without him, I am utterly and wholly incomplete. And he deserves a post of his own, which I will do soon.
I love Spenser like I never imagined I would be able to love something that is a part of me. I forgive him things others would go to jail for. I protect him from himself, while allowing him to express his anger, hurt, and insecurity. I protect others from his uncontrollable rages, his hurtful words, the venom that comes from him when the monster is unleashed. I allow him more then I ever thought I would allow a child of mine.
Hitting? I stand stoic as possible. It's not him, it' the monster.
Punching? I gasp, and wince, but never hit back.
Smacking? I hold in my shock, anger and frustration, and let it go.
Head butting? I try to move out of the way.
Biting? I say nothing. I hold my breath, and hope the tears in my eyes from pain do not slip out.
And when the rage starts to subside, and the embarrassment, and remorse start to come, I hold him. I love him. I forgive him, and ask him to forgive me, because I know that I have probably said things that were not pleasant in the heat of the confrontation. I tell him we all make mistakes. Even the big guys. And if you can't forgive, and move forward, you will be forever stuck in a rut of hate and anger. And then, hopefully he decides to apologize, and tells me he loves me to the moon. And I tell him, that I love him to the moon and back. Around the world, and evermore. He nods off to fitful sleep, and if I can leave him, I go and cry.
I cry because he is a tortured soul. He is a special needs child, not a "normal" child. But he is my normal. He is what I know. He is what I love. I have come to slowly but surely accept that he is what and who he is. Good days, bad days, and all the in between.
I am learning. Slowly learning, that being a parent, a good parent, is much harder then I ever thought it would be. I have forgiven my parents with this knowledge I have. It is not easy. And I am not always good at it. I am sure it was immensely difficult having 5 different children, all different ages, all the while fighting your own inner demons, and hardships in life. Maybe some not so great reactions happened, some unwise decisions made, and maybe some things were said in the heat of the moment. Shit happens.
I got the sorry I wanted and I am doing my best to hold up my end of the bargain, or rather my promise to myself to let it go. And I am glad that I am in a place that I can do that. My mother is ill. She is going in to have life threatening surgery. She is scared. My father is scared. I am scared. She has many issues going on physically. Lots of cysts on organs, a tumor in or on her stomach, of unknown origin. Large hiatel hernia, degenerative disc disease, high blood pressure, reflux--severe enough to have at least 10 years worth of constant acid reducers, protonics and what not to have been prescribed. Possible heart issues at some point, though a recent angio-gram showed she had a "beautiful heart" as the cardiologist proclaimed afterwards. Though she has an irregular and fast heart beat. Possible arthritis in her sternum and rib cage. The breast cancer of 12 years ago, the skin cancers removed over the years, the IBS for years and years, the need for a complete hysterectomy 7 years ago. And now the need to have 18 to 24 inches of sigmoid colon and intestine out due to diverticulitis. And the stomach tumor. WTF is the stomach tumor? Is it benign weirdness?
Is it a malignant tumor that will change everyone's life forever?
These are things I don't know.
What I do know is that I will be there or her surgery, and after if she needs me. I will be there making sure the doctors do the things are supposed to do.
I will be there.
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