Slower steps forward

  It’s been really hard to be this parent that I don’t want to be while trying to keep this dream of the parent I can no longer be, alive.  I really can’t describe it in any other way except…it blows.

Everyone has dreams and most times, those dreams get crushed or slowly fade out as reality starts to settle in around us.  A lot of times we are led unto a path that we not only didn’t choose but never would have chosen if we had known it was an option for us.  There are things and people who keep us pushing forward; so, we do our best to adapt to the life that we claim has been chosen for us and not by us. It can be challenging and changes  are forced to take place in our lives.  Sometimes, like in my case, it can take a long time to accept, adapt and overcome these changes.  Just because we didn’t choose this life, or for our lives to be a certain way, doesn’t mean we can’t alter the effects certain unforseen changes may have on/in our lives.
I talk about having this perception of the parent I always wanted to be once I discovered that I was becoming a parent for the first time.  Laziness, a mundane routine and mixed up priorities somehow took possession of my so-called parental goals, however.  It took losing certain opportunities and abilities for me to realize that I had taken being a mommy for granted.  I have moments where I can look back and smile forward knowing that not everything had been completely depleted of enjoyment and replaced with irritation or impatience or this debilitating and overwhelming sense of loss coupled with frustration.  I was bored in my life and with it and contemplated the turns and choices I had made often but I had still managed to take the time to find pleasure in simple things…like walking around the block with my sons tiny hand in mine and my pockets overstuffed with every pebble and twig he found along the way.  Where would I be today without those memories?  Or a random picture taken of Skas and me holding hands and walking along the sea wall on the bay front downtown only a couple of weeks before my stroke consequently stripping me of the ability to control my left side?
My misery has stemmed not from the loss of continuing these memories with Skas but the fact that I will not be able to create these same memories with my fat little Boonshka born less than nine months later.  I spent a long time harboring this bitterness against the world, against a God I wish I was more confident in my position that he doesn’t exist.  I feel like it would be safer to say that God has no control of anything due to his non-existence because if there is a God the only question left is the obvious: Why?
So I struggle on in my blindness and I am strong in my stance to remain deaf to the child I can’t bear to acknowledge.  I love him so much I am consumed by the misery caused by my lack of ability to physically be the mommy I so desperately want to be for him.  I want to creat memories with him that I share with Skas but it is unsafe.  Everything is so unsafe.  I have no stability and it is fracturing the internal structures that keeps me moving forward every day.  Every day is a battle and I wish my husband knew.  He claims to know, to understand, to have gone in search of answers to his own questions but I know his words are empty.  If he knew, if he understood, he wouldn’t make me feel like I have long ago abandoned hope.  The hope is still there.  It remains inside of me but it burns so hot I cannot go near it…so I bury it.  What am I supposed to do?  How much failure can one endure; most especially when it comes to being a mommy?

It has been over two years and only recently I have started to step forward; I have finally started the fight.  I had a long denial period, a long period of misunderstanding and an even longer battle period of deciding if I am strong enough to withstand losses after paying tribute to the war God that may or may not accept my offerings.  I have no idea my level of strength anymore.  Internally I am damaged and trying desperately to hold myself together while the salt from my own tears slowly eats away at the thin shield protecting my emotional sanctity.  Externally, I am fading away.  My muscle tone is weak; my bones hurt and my joints ache.  My migraines are coming more frequently and I am losing pound after pound.
With all of this doubt and signs of weakening strength surrounding me, I have yet to cave completely.  I have been moving forth in my attempts to have my children become more aware of my existence.  It is no longer enough to just be a voice in the house whose words have no weight.  I want to be a real parent again.  I am tired of watching the days pass with little involvement with the content of each day.  As much as I want to rush through this, I realize the it is best that I somehow find the patience to do this right.  I have always pushed hard in every thing that I do but this is too important…I have to do this right and I cannot pretend that this is happening without providing any movement to the actions needed to propel this forward if even at a slowed pace.
I just want both of my kids to know that even though I am weak in so many ways, I am still fighting for them.  I don’t think I can handle any more losses when my gains are so few  and far between now but I am running out of options.  It is finally coming down to the choice of fight or flight and naturally, I feel like I have wasted so much time so I dwell on that rather than facing the fight.  All I can do is spare some hope while I battle on and use it to wish for understanding to always find a way into their hearts when they look back and remember me long after I am gone.

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