There is a crack in my soul that I didn’t even realize I had. I realized that at one point in my life no so long ago I had many; maybe a few hairline fractures left, but NOT this.
I have had the privilege of being raised by amazingly loving parents who have been together for over 55 years. My father is my hero. Not perfect by any chance, but steadfast, loyal, and oh so steady. He has always been there for me. No matter what. Period. I am blessed and I know it.
Today, as I was sitting in a therapy session with my young son, I noticed this crack in my soul. I have walked a path unlike most mothers that I know. It’s taken my son about 6 years to start verbalizing his feelings. I’ve waited a long time for this. Until now his feelings would come out as physical reactions to the triggers going off in his vast mind. I could see all of the pieces, but I couldn’t put them together. He is one of two gifts that I received during my abusive marriage. Thank GOD for the them they are the silver lining.
Many people would think that a man would take it easy on their pregnant wife. He did the first time; beginners luck? When I was pregnant with my second child I knew after the 3rd month that the nightmare had begun. The kind of nightmare you try to wake yourself up from, but there is no hope. This time there would be no apologies or therapy sessions. The proverbial straw broke the camels back and the abuse continued until the children and I were able to flee to safety.
My baby was about 2 years old by then. Domestic Violence caused this perfect little baby to come into this world early, and it is what has caused him so much anxiety and frustration. It’s taken years of patience for me to wait not knowing if he would ever be able to verbalize how he felt…or what it was that actually made him feel “bad”. His anxiety levels are high and he is worried that things aren’t going to turn out okay. No matter how much I assure him the anxiety remains. The fear of the bottom dropping out again is always there, and my anxiety doesn’t exactly help him either.
Today we had a bit of a break thorough though! We have already established that he is angry, but that’s about as far as we have managed to get. Today it crystalized in his brilliant little mind. He spoke clearly and verbalized his inner most feelings for the first time really. He wishes that he could be “normal”. He wants a normal family. He wants a Dad; one that is actually in his life. He wants to have a home where he can stay and feel safe and not have to run in the middle of the night. He wants stability.
I wish I could tell him that I want the same thing, but I can’t. It’s my job to “make the best of the adventure”. I have done everything in my power to give this to him, but I can’t remove the cause of our anxiety. That person still walks this earth and as long as I am a mother I will have to make the necessary moves to protect my children. I know it is hard on them. Shit it’s HARD as hell on me. We have lived a life that movies are made of. The fine details are not permissible for our safety; suffice it to say though, that this little boy has endured what most adults will never have to consider.
I am so proud of my son. I am so incredibly grateful that he was able to verbalized this today. I felt like the caged bird finally sang it’s sad song. He was exhausted from the process and sad for having heard it come out of his own mouth I believe. The simple realization that this is his life, and he wished it were different. God knows I try my best to make his little life as magical and blissful as I can. I try to make everyday an adventure so he feels special and not different.
I don’t think I realized until today how deeply sad he is about having a void where a father should be. He doesn’t see or talk to the man who helped create him. He just doesn’t have a dad and I have tried to remedy that. I met an incredible man and I thought he was it, but he died less than a year ago. I know my son is devastated from that because he misses him and he wants a dad. Period. Unfortunately, that’s simply a void I cannot fill and Lord knows I have tried.
It was at this moment with him that I realized that there was a crack in my soul; I had to use all my super hero powers to hold back the tears. This crack cannot be fixed with love from another. I cannot repair it with laughter. It is what it is. It is because of my choices that my son suffers. No, I don’t hold myself hostage for this, but it has created such a sadness within. I thought I could be both a mother and a father if I loved him enough, but I can’t. He’s a boy and he wants a dad, and that is that.
I read something lately that said that the cracks in a person are what let the light in. It was meant to be funny since I am a bit left of center; cracked. However, after considering this more I think I am going to have to go with that idea with all sincerity. My soul is cracked and the light is going to pour in until the day comes that I can remedy this situation. Until then all I can do is be the best mother and friend this little boy can have, and keep the conversation going. I thank GOD that he is talking even though it kills me a little every time I hear his little voice speak such sad truths.
This is not going to be a sad ending though. I am his mother and I hold the pen. I am writing a happy ending to this adventure and I plan many adventures along the way. Itwill be filled with love, magic, and whimsy; and when he is angry I must remember that he is just sad. I must remember to wear my crown and cape everyday as I set out to save the day. How blessed am I to be able to be on this journey with my two best friends? xo Ella 