be lucky
Ah the "Actually"s.. and the sense they convey that he doesn't think we know anything about anything and the guilt we have when we feel frustrated and triggered that oor wee dude maybe will be a life long mansplainer.. Noooooo. I am his mum he wants and needs me to be boss, trouble has always been that by the time me and him and left together I'm exhausted and childcare is challenging without having already been burnt out, seriously depleted and undermined.
Wish we could have more confirmation of anything that happened when we were in hospital. Seriously. Anything. You know how it feel to feel utterly lost and damaged and remember that recently, weeks, days, hours even minutes or seconds ago you were able to talk from a very different perspective. Self assured and aware instead of self conscious and no self esteem, confident and determined instead of inhibited and petrified. It's awful, you feel so badly betrayed by yourself and others. So trapped between a part of yourself that rightly wont let go and that has understandably given up and you are neither but ripped apart by them or are pointlessly attempting to build a cozy home in the frozen muddy craters between them.
Tired aren't we?
So good to here him humming and chatting away to himself as he plays downstairs though. Wish it would of been possible to work on the worst of the traumas that we shared in hospital but that just wasn't and wouldn't be possible any way.. We hate brick walls in our memory, in our self like that. Not a pretty picture of our internal world we are painting is it? Giant thick walls and scarred no mans land. They always put them to hide something from us that really helps us. They wrap all your quality and positive core memories and defining moments in horror. It is worth it to find the gooey centre past all the rock hard evil but its severe fucking trauma and there isnt much of anything available in terms of tools or support.
Going to have to find a way in though because feeling victimised by chatty son is bullshit.
And I believe we will.
We worked so hard to figure out how to get to know, how to parent the child after the trauma and find a way to accept it will never be like was with the one before. It's the same with every kid. It didn't start becoming too much because it was, it always was, it started really becoming too much because it could be. Things were changing and that was enough for tonnes of us to bail leaving a promise to be back that the dissociated "I" when there was such a thing couldnt hear anyway.
Glow stick inners spatter all over wall and duvet. Spectacular. Also novelty something you have to turn the lights off to clean.
Coughed and had to change knickers. They had been pushed back to the drawer a bit but intentionally dug out the lucky numbers 7s. While there is still some elastic left in them.
Wish we could have more confirmation of anything that happened when we were in hospital. Seriously. Anything. You know how it feel to feel utterly lost and damaged and remember that recently, weeks, days, hours even minutes or seconds ago you were able to talk from a very different perspective. Self assured and aware instead of self conscious and no self esteem, confident and determined instead of inhibited and petrified. It's awful, you feel so badly betrayed by yourself and others. So trapped between a part of yourself that rightly wont let go and that has understandably given up and you are neither but ripped apart by them or are pointlessly attempting to build a cozy home in the frozen muddy craters between them.
Tired aren't we?
So good to here him humming and chatting away to himself as he plays downstairs though. Wish it would of been possible to work on the worst of the traumas that we shared in hospital but that just wasn't and wouldn't be possible any way.. We hate brick walls in our memory, in our self like that. Not a pretty picture of our internal world we are painting is it? Giant thick walls and scarred no mans land. They always put them to hide something from us that really helps us. They wrap all your quality and positive core memories and defining moments in horror. It is worth it to find the gooey centre past all the rock hard evil but its severe fucking trauma and there isnt much of anything available in terms of tools or support.
Going to have to find a way in though because feeling victimised by chatty son is bullshit.
And I believe we will.
We worked so hard to figure out how to get to know, how to parent the child after the trauma and find a way to accept it will never be like was with the one before. It's the same with every kid. It didn't start becoming too much because it was, it always was, it started really becoming too much because it could be. Things were changing and that was enough for tonnes of us to bail leaving a promise to be back that the dissociated "I" when there was such a thing couldnt hear anyway.
Glow stick inners spatter all over wall and duvet. Spectacular. Also novelty something you have to turn the lights off to clean.
Coughed and had to change knickers. They had been pushed back to the drawer a bit but intentionally dug out the lucky numbers 7s. While there is still some elastic left in them.
