A page from my journal.
Did someone pull the rug out from underneath me? I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.
I’ve been asked, don’t you ever get angry? And, how can you be so understanding…
Anger, sadness, disbelief, worry. They’re all tangled up with fear, and I can’t tell where one begins, and another ends. It’s a bit of a balancing act, really. I don’t feel equipped.
Yes, I get angry. Of course, I do. But I try not to spend too much time there. It’s a selfish emotion that wants to blame someone, something.
Round and round we go.
The pain always leaves me searching for answers. Different answers. What am I missing…
My heart pounds. I try and lead with love and kindness. But the line between hope and heartache has blurred tonight.
Somehow, I thought I knew how her story would go. She would embrace recovery, reclaim her place in this world, and go on to inspire others with her art, courage, strength, humor, compassion, and her beautiful smile. I thought I had it figured out.
Now … I don’t know. It’s out of my hands (is it in hers?). It’s hard to say.
I do know this. That’s a lot of pressure for me to have put on someone I love. Here I go again. Playing out moments in my head, in search of answers. Self-blaming.
I’m her mom, after all.
It’s been my job to protect her. My most important responsibility to ensure she’s safe and happy. To see to it that she’s honest and kind, and contributing to society. And somehow I fucked up. Somehow I let her down. But how?! How do I protect her from herself?
The rabbit trails have once again led me back into the darkness, right back into the pain with the unknown. They always lead me there.
With slow deep breaths, I ask for peace. And exhaling out, I try to let the pain go (if only for tonight).
I hope sleep comes soon.
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