How Did I Get Here, And Where Is The Next Turn?

Greetings and salutations to all who deem this worthy of your time...

Brought up Jun 29, 2013

Parenthood

As a parent, I have done my best to raise my children to be strong, independent people. I have tried my damnedest to help them learn to be good, giving, compassionate beings. Children are one of God's greatest gifts, on loan to us for how ever long they, and we, walk this planet. It doesn't stop when they become adults.

I sometimes think I have royally screwed up my kids. My being in that dark hole during their childhood caused me to be less there for them. My body was present, but my mind was too wrapped up in its pain to always really be there for them. I am paying the price for that now.

My kids have turned out much better than I could ever dream. They are both giving, kind people. Unfortunately, they are easily manipulated, sometimes, by those who claim to be friends, but don't truly appreciate them.

My son, especially, has this great, vicious anger that spews from him sometimes. He has had to deal with too much at his young age: The deaths of two dear friends, one at the age of 11, and one as a young adult. He has serious trust issues because they 'left' him. My boy is there for his friends, sometimes giving the very motor from his car to help. In turn, most of those friends fail to be there when he needs them. He lets these disappointments build up inside.

Unfortunately, when my son's anger reaches its peak, when he can not take one more let down, I am usually around. I am the closest target for his venom. And he strikes with the accuracy of a cobra.

It's always verbal attacks toward me, but he sometimes breaks things. It rarely lasts long, and he is usually filled with such remorse afterward. I understand it better than anyone else, I guess, because I have been, and at times still am, the same way. Most of the time, these days, my anger, frustration, and fears come out in tears, or I turn it inward. At least my boy doesn't do that. I would hate to see what it would cause him to do if he turned his anger toward himself.

Right now, my heart aches for him. He doesn't see what a gloriously unique, wonderful man he is. He won't listen to me when I try to tell him that. He just says, "You have to say that. You're my mom."

I am proud to say, yes, I am. I will be his mom until I draw my last breath. I will never turn my back on him, no matter what he does or says. I carried him for 9 months, brought him into this world, bathed, fed, rocked and sang him to sleep. I have kissed his booboos, hugged him when he was scared, or sad. I held him as he wept for his friends. I have also laughed at his goofy sense of humor, inherited from yours truly. I have cheered his accomplishments, sympathized with his disappointments. I have been there since his first breath on this planet, his first steps, words, day at school.

I adore my son. I just wish sometimes he saw that he didn't come with a hand book, and I have done the best I knew.

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