I worry a lot……I worry about work I worry about paying bills and most of all I worry about T. I worry I do not do enough I worry that I am not there enough I worry that I am not showing him enough love or time. I worry non-stop that I am failing him as a mom. Will there ever come a time when I can look at my child and say I have given him my all or will I always worry that I could give him so much more. He is my sun and my moon. He is why I get up in the morning and laugh. He is a dream come true and I am lucky to have him……But I shall always worry that I am failing him.
Written by me Oct. 13/16
The above popped up on my FB memories Friday. As I read over it, my heart ached for how vulnerable and scared I was. How as I began to walk the twisted path of my depression, I could not see where I was headed. But this tells me. However, that is not what this blog is about.
I no longer worry that I am going to fail T. I do worry that I let him spend too much time on the computer either watching Youtube or playing his Scrap Mechanic or Minecraft. I worry that I don’t make him read enough but on the other hand I do not want to make him hate reading. I do worry that I don’t talk to him enough although he reassures me all the time that I talk more than enough for both of us.
As a mom, my main job besides loving T is to turn him into a semblance of a productive member of society. Which means laying down some ground rules. Teaching him responsibility. Disabusing him of the notion that he and he alone matters in the world. I try to open his eyes to the differences around him so that he sees people and lives, nothing else.
I have taught him a fair share of my bad habits as well. He is sarcastic. He always has to have the final word. He likes to procrastinate. Whether he realizes it or not, he likes words which is a bonus in my book. (By the way, the word thing not a bad habit)
Overall, as I look at the young man T is growing into, I am fairly confident that he is going to turn into that productive member of society that I want him to be. There are still going to be some struggles ahead (I mean c’mon, he is a boy about to go into puberty and yeah, how do I handle that one?) so you may want to check back with me in a year or so to see if I am still writing and singing his praises.
***Image via Cartoon Network found on Internet.
I am a bunny
hear me roar.
You say that I cannot roar?
That I am too tiny and too cute?
Do you not see the fierceness
with which I protect my heart?
Do you not see
that I am the provider of my family?
I am a bunny
see me soar.
Why do you say I cannot soar?
That I am meant to stay rooted to the ground?
Do you not see the dreams
that I create within this harsh world?
Do you not understand the hope
that I watch each day unfurl with?
I am a bunny
tiny and cute
fierce and determined
ready to embrace
the differences that life will share.
Each step forward is a struggle.
It feels as though I am wading
wading through life, emotions
without truly connecting.
You ask me if I am okay,
I can see your mouth moving
and I am fairly certain,
certain that I give the standard answer
the one that says ‘I am alright.’
Look a little closer
and you will see;
the tears in my eyes
the fear that I will be discovered as false.
The shattered loneliness I dwell in
all the time.
The black shadows reach forth
capturing me in their fingers
I struggle to break free
only to become submerged again.
She moves like a languid lynx
slinking across glass littered alleys
tacky with the tears
of so many shattered dreams.
Hard and heartless, she has closed down
using her body as a commodity.
To survive, to entrap, to getting what she wants.
Unsure that even she knows.
Men made her this way.
From a father who held her too dear
to a brother she fought with fear.
From boyfriend to boyfriend
each one always the same…..
It was only the faces and bodies
Women too had a hand here.
A mother who turned from her tears
to a sister who could only feel relief.
From girlfriend to girlfriend
relationships found growing in rocky graves
mistrust and jealousy….
It was only the clothes and hair
No time for tears.
No time for love.
No time for comfort.
Delving into the underbelly
schooled in trash
she moves like a languid lynx
sidling through the shadows.
Your worst dream.
I wrote this in 2012 on this day. I have been paying attention to my ‘On this day….’ and rediscovering lost words. Picture is also mine.
Begone, beyond, feelings tossed to the moors
frightful, disturbing, unwanted, pain
Rapture, only found with denial, with revulsion
go not into the embrace, but fight for hell.
You say you will forgive me, you will wipe away my tears
you say that your eyes alone, can divine the stain upon my soul.
You say that through you and you alone, can I find salvation.
yet you turn your head, your ears, your eyes
When I do not behave;
how your ambassadors on earth feel I should.
Call me not a coward, nor defiant
you and you alone gave me free will
My choice, my decision, my desire
hurt not others, all shall be good.
Find the stain upon my soul,
enough to curse me.
To send me to hell.
Yet you gave me the ability to choose,
and still you punish.