My little one, my youngest son, the love of my life. Oh...how he does try my patience and burn my resolve into little piles of flaming ash. If I did not know the nature of his issues, I would crawl into a ball of despair and cry from all the verbal assaults he throws my way. From why don't you love me, to you don't love me, to my all time favorite " ahhhhhh she hurt me!" Usually uttered when I ask him to do something. Than there is calling me "rara", "lady", and by my first name. Then there is the tantrums and various other verbal assaults on my person I will not trouble you with. But...this is only the morning. By the afternoon my little Dr.Jekyll has turned into a very anxious Mr. Hide. Wanting constant reminders that his pants are straight and that his chair is "how he likes it." Worry then fills him and he want that reassurance every few minuets that I am here, I love him and that C will play with him. And telling me about his day and who had hurt his feelings. Of those stories its hard to tell fact from fiction. He is very lovable at these times. Reading, coloring, constantly wanting to fill his head with facts and knowledge. But, still a little on the belligerent side. Than the night comes, the med is wearing off once again, and its hard to get him ready for bed without a small tantrum, or a little mouthing off and yelling. And inevitably he will end up in my bed. Thrashing and flailing in the night, in his sleep. Curling up into me, for a constant reminder that I am there.
As hard and as tiring as it is for me. And there are days I feel I can not go on. I wonder just how hard it is for him in his own head, his own reality. To feel so out of control of your emotions and your words. To go from anger to fear, to happiness in the space of 10 minuets. For him to know what he needs to do and how he needs to behave ,for I am sure he wants to, but he cognitively can't. To feel that you will be left out, alone and lost, no matter how many reminders you have that you are loved and valued. To not be in control of your own thoughts, it makes my heart hurt for him in waves of sorrow and pain. My own struggles with depression and anxiety pale, for I am an adult, I have words for them. And plans of action to live with them. My baby must learn and I must learn how to help him. And the hardest part for me? Sticking to the planed course of action and not letting MY emotions rule.
And my quiet and loving older son. How hard it must be for him to watch the anger filled mornings and stressful nights and think his family is loosing it. To hear how is brother torments him, you would wonder how he has not retaliated with more rage and anger than he has. For its not very often he goes off at his brother. He thankfully has the understanding and patience to get through it. But it wears thin, for even the best of us. C is my saving grace sometimes. always ready with a hug and a funny face.
I love my boys with such devotion that sometimes I feel like my heart can not hold it all. It is this love that helps me open my eyes to each new day and challenge and keeps me moving. It is the whisper of this love that fills my every prayer for them. It is the heat of the fire of determination that pushes me forward to help D in every way I can. To actually give up would be my greatest sin. I feel better for having written this. For seeing maybe it's not as bad as I think, that the boys will lift me up.