A tsunami is the perfect metaphor that describes my life and despite the destruction the abuser has brought into my life by emotionally and physically abusing me so severely that it knocked me off my feet, I am grateful for my children who every day remind me to keep going.
The physical injuries he inflicted upon me are so severe I am now considered disabled yet I am still standing and still work at getting better every day. It has been hard to pat myself on the back because for so long I have been made to feel as though my life is worthless and I am not good enough so writing this post is not easy for me. I keep wanting to trash it, but I think it’s important for me to give myself credit for being a fighter and not giving up.
Yesterday I was reminded how much my children need me, and what a great job their father and I have done in raising two empathetic, honest, genuine, loving souls who are pretty put together considering what life has brought them. I am so proud of them for always sharing their thoughts and feelings and for the first time I am proud of myself and their dad for having shown them that there is never anything they can’t share.
My health has been life changing not just for me but for them and it has rocked their sense of security. Last February I began to take my son to therapy after he missed many days of school. He began to refuse to go to school in order to stay home with me, and protect me against the abuser. He still believes the abuser will hurt me – This fall, at the recommendation of his therapist, his father, sister and I now join in as we learn how to communicate more effectively, and to understand what more, as parents, we can do to create a safe and secure environment given our lives is much different than it was prior to my disabilities and inability to be the mom that I was coupled with their dad’s cancer having returned last March. And, after therapy we go to dinner, which the kids love (No, there is nothing or will there ever be anything romantic between me and their father)
Tonight, both kids, in their own way, expressed that my depression is concerning them and they want the old me back. No, they didn’t say those exact words but expressed their sadness and frustration about my being in bed most of the day, watching netflix with my only outing being doctor’s appointments. They complained about my not leaving the house, even with them and expressed frustration over my not being active – It broke my heart and at the same time I felt so accomplished to have created a foundation for them to feel safe enough to communicate with us in such an honest manner. They miss me and I miss them – if I have done everything wrong in my life, the one thing I have not failed has been raising my kids and letting them know and experience what it’s like to be loved unconditionally. They are not an extension of me or their dad – they are individual beings who I could not be prouder of. They are not responsible for my feelings and I am thrilled they know that. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard to hear, and I’ve been in a bit of a funk because it makes me sad to have realized I have lost two years of my life with them because the abuser wasn’t able to control his rage, but I also stopped myself from going down that road because the disconnected empty shell of the human being that he is, isn’t worth it.
My chickens inspire me to be a better person, to be stronger, to fight harder, and to keep trying to kiss every joy as it flies even on days that I don’t want to. The hardship we are all going through has made me a believer that there is a reason for everything and soon those reason will come to light where they matter.