Out of his control…

It stopped working again…. things were going picture perfect.  He was happy, I was happy, she was happy…. until about a week ago. 

His afternoons started bringing back memories of his past.  When he was angry, self deprecating, suicidal.  He was only 9 at the time.  He’s only 10 now.

His side affects are crippling his life.  Our lives are being flipped upside down again.  The evening are turning into him only happy if he’s alone in his room with the tv on.  He just wants to be left alone.  

No one needs to tell me it’s not about me.  But my reality isn’t yours.  He has no control over his emotions, but I have control over mine and still can’t stop from being angry, sad, and confused.

I miss him when he’s gone, when the medicine isn’t working, when he’s angry and not himself.  I just want to scream at him and ask him to stop hurting his sister and me, but he’s not there.  He’s not him. 

When the lights go out…

It’s always after they fall asleep, lights off, darkness around me with only my phone shining that I read a blog post, or article about parenting.  How we should do better, be better.  Why shutting off our phones or closing the laptop and really listening is so important.  I read about the kids who remember one thing, not the money, not the toys, not the gifts, just the memories.   The ones who only have memories.  Tears literally pour and I want to go and wake them up and tell them how sorry I am.  I’ll be more present, I’ll do better.  I’ll play that game, bake that cake, read that book, hug them a little longer because they’re fading into finding that joy elsewhere.  
The truth is I’m scared.  I am so afraid that I’m not getting this right.  That I’m spending so much time on providing “things” that I’m not providing the only thing that they need.  That they want.  Just me.