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I havent quite been able to find the words to say what I want to say. Or need to say. Or really, just need to understand. How can I understand something I cant even figure out how to say? I have lost numerous friends and family members over the past few years, some harder than others. Some simply reminding me how fragile life is, and how I need to just slow down and take it all in. And some, hurting just a little bit deeper.
This weekend a mutual friend told me that an old friends dad was diagnosed with a brain tumor. An inoperable brain tumor that is being treated with radiation – but the statistics show that only 1% of people, live 6 months after diagnosis.
In the matter of minutes, I went from knowing where I stood in this world, to being completely unsure. I had to remind myself to do the things I was responsible for – go back to work, go home, get the kids. And so forth. Its not so much the fact that he is most likely, not going to live that long. Its not even the fact that people talk about him like he is already dead, or the fact that he has a family who will grieve over him. Its not even that I was that close to him. Or that I knew him that well, I was friends with his kids. I don’t know what it was. But ever since Sunday I have been grasping for anything.
Any bit of understanding. Any bit of anything. Because it just refuses to make sense to me.
How do you put words to something like this? What do you say? What do you do? Why do people keep dying? Am I suppose to be upset? Or this shaken about something that doesn’t even effect me personally?
Death seems to be dancing awful close to my house again, and I want to run. I want to take all that are important to me, wrap my arms around them so tightly and run. And never stop running.
Hearing the word brain tumor sent shock up and down my body. Much like it did those years ago. I have heard about 3 other people who have lost someone this week.
And people just keep going.
Like nothing is happening. Like nothing happens. Like there is nothing wrong in this world.
I just don’t have the words today.
To say. That I feel broken. And defeated. And flattened. And unsure.
I just don’t have the words.
And today, more than ever, I wish I did. I really, really, wish I did.
Today I just wanted to get mad. There was no reason in the world for me to be mad, it was even sunny. And maybe that’s what made me mad. The fact that even though I wanted to get mad? I had no good reason.
I have three great kids. Three really awesome kids. Who yes, drive me nuts and make me pull my hair out daily. But they are pretty awesome too. But…it doesn’t fill the gap. No matter how much they mean to me, no matter how much I love them. No matter how much I want them to. They just don’t.
Some days, I just want to share all this with her. Some days I just want to hold her close and show her things and watch her smile and hear her laugh. Some days I want to watch her. I want to know her personality. I want to. But I cant.
And Im expected to be ok with that.
I feel selfish and stupid even saying it, because I have three great reasons, three great kids. And yet Im wallowing around, pissed off because I don’t have the ONE I want…and that sounds so bad. And selfish. And I wonder what the kids would do if they knew I thought these things.
On those days I have to force myself out. Force myself away from the dark side of things. Force myself from seeing rain clouds where there is sun. Force myself to see life where I see death. I have to force myself to smile, when I want to yell. Because its only right. Its only fair. Its really the only thing I can do. Because soon enough, I will catch on. My heart will follow my mind. And things will be ok.
For one moment, for a short instant, for a very small window of time – I let myself think what if, why not, and how come. And then…I shove it aside…
Because there are three kids outside screaming with excitement, running in the sun, having a great day – and I really want to be a part of that too. So for now, for today, for however long I can, I put the thoughts aside, and love the moment I have been given.
Right now. Right here.
Awhile ago I had someone ask me how I knew what Josh wanted. What he liked. What he didn’t like. How did I know if he was hungry, or thirsty, had to use the bathroom, was scared, or tired. How. Was I going to know if he couldn’t tell me. And it was the first time that I actually stopped and thought. And wondered. And maybe started to worry just a bit – that maybe one day I wouldn’t know. I have never been good at guessing games. They drive me crazy, and unless someone’s telling me point blank what they want, I often can be found over looking the obvious.
It never was something I had wondered about. Or worried about. I still worry about things, and I wonder whats going on in his little mind. I do wonder if Im completely missing the mark when it comes to who he is, and I have to wonder if maybe Im not letting him just be enough. I worry that maybe there is something else causing him this frustration – and since he cant tell me, well, maybe Im getting it all wrong.
And lately, that question has been flooding back to my mind. “How will you know?” the voice asks. “How can you tell?” “What if your wrong?” A few months ago, I pulled him out of every extra bit of help he was getting and started from ground one. I did more research and thinking about things than I have in a long time, and then I slowly started rebuilding that part of his life. One thing at a time. Choosing to put him into the therapy that I thought would help him best, and removing him from those programs I didn’t see helping him. And what I have seen is more change in the little guy than I have in a long time.
Im not saying I understand what he needs, or what he is going though. Im not saying that I know anything more than someone. Im not even saying that I am doing the right thing. Im just saying that I stopped listening to that voice of question. I finally said no, and started doing what I knew was helping him. And focused on the areas that he was struggling with. The areas that he WANTED to succeed in, but just couldn’t.
With it, weve gotten a whole bunch of attitude. Attitude, of a seven year old boy. Not frustration and anger because he cant tell me what he wants and because I am missing the mark completely. But attitude, from a seven year old boy – who doesn’t WANT to do that. Attitude because he CAN. And nothing makes me smile more than seeing the logical reason going on behind his brown eyes, and seeing that light bulb go off.
I take the advice that is given to me, and instead of jumping all over it, I think it over. I ask myself if it will help Josh, and not just something that has helped every other kid out there. Because Josh isn’t every other kid, hes Josh. And I havent been treating him like that.
When someone tells me that I need to get him in bed by a certain time, I think it over. I weigh the pros and cons. I realize that most kids do succeed better when in bed by a certain time. I do realize that after a certain amount of “Late night bed times” he does reach his limit and flips out – like we all do. But I also realize that he needs this time too. Just like I do. He needs the time to unwind, by himself. Just being him. On the couch. Alone. Late at night. Until he falls asleep. There is no fighting him to sleep, there is not bed time hassle. Everyone knows what to expect, and while it isn’t ideal? Its Josh. And it works. For us.
Friday I was flipping through his notebook that he brings back and forth from school. Realizing I havent gotten a note from his teacher telling me they need to talk to me lately, I went looking. And what I saw made me realize that this kid? He is something else. Stories of what he has been up to. Today he shared. Yesterday he didn’t. The day before he slapped a kid. But the next day he offered another kid something of his. Its up and down. Nothing is secured.
But were working towards a common goal. He is no longer just another number. Another failed story. Another helpless cause. Another head in the crowd. Im trying to no longer question everything related to him. Im trying to take things, one thing at a time. And tear it apart, bit by bit, before presenting it to him. Im trying. To treat him like I do the other kids. Im trying. To give him what HE needs to help HIM. And while it’s a guessing game at best…Im learning. Hes learning. We are learning. Together. Were figuring this out. One step at a time. Realizing that everyday, is a new start. And a new start is nothing to be taken lightly.
At the end of the day, at the end of the advice…its up to me to figure it all out. To put the pieces together. To take the relevant advice, and apply it as necessary. And at the end of the day, I try to remember that tomorrow. Is a new day. And we can, and will start over. Again and again. Until there are no more days to start over.
Because starting over. Everyday. Is so worth it.
After avoiding it for a few weeks, Madison and I finally sat down and had a long talk. About things I was hoping would disappear. About things I didn’t want to confront with her, and about things she needed to address. And after about an hour with everything laid out – we came up with solutions, fixed a few problems, and resolved a few irresolvable issues. That’s the just of it. The rest? Was an exchange of words and tears and problems, and things that I just want to toss my hands in the air on because trying to raise a teenage girl? Is kicking me. Over and over and over and over again.
It boils down to one thing, for me atleast: I don’t want to let go.
Having worked so hard to get to this point, I failed to prepare myself, or calculate in a time when I would have to let go. Unconsciously assuming that once I got them back, it would be home free. That things would go back to “Normal” and somehow we would make it out the other end. I failed to add in about 10 years and the constant changing of these things called kids. Or teenagers. Or anything else really. I pretty much failed to forget that kids? They grow, and change, and with it their thoughts, and wants, and needs really, change too.
I pretty much failed at realizing that there would be a day where I would have to let go. Not because I want to. But because I need to. Because they need me to.
Years ago, I ran into the issue of letting go. Its not something that comes easy to me. Im not sure if it’s the way its put, the meaning of it, or what it means to me. Whatever it is, letting go is not something I prefer to do a lot of. And its certainly not something that comes naturally. It came to the point where I agreed to just not get close to people, so I wouldn’t HAVE to let go. And it worked. For a while. Until it didn’t anymore. And somehow, against all my fighting it back – certain people have worked their way into my life, and I can do nothing more than hang onto them with all I have – and hope. That the day will not come when I am forced to let go. Again.
And here we sit. Across the table from a bright eyed girl with a future laid out ahead of her. With out a lot of effort I know she will carve out a future for herself. I can see it, but I cant get over the fact that in my eyes – she is still a little girl. I see her. Yes. I see all fifteen years of her. But I still see her as the little girl who would run and laugh and squeal with excitement…and when she asks for something any fifteen year old would want, I have to laugh because isn’t she just eight? Shes not OLD enough for that! And in some small way, when I refuse to “Let go” I am holding her back.
Its not intentional. But its what has happened. I see it. I know it. And maybe I don’t want to let go. Because of what it means. I don’t want to let her go. I don’t want her to grow up, and branch out and…well…yea.
Part of me wants to be selfish. And tie her up. And not let her GO and experience life as a fifteen year old. I say its all in the name of wanting to protect her, and that might be some small part of it. I don’t want her making mistakes, and getting her heart broke. But I cant protect her from it all. And I know shes outgrowing the small cage I have placed her in. I know its time.
But really…
When I signed up for this, I never saw the day coming. I never saw her growing up and forming opinions, and outsmarting me. I never saw her turning from a little girl into, well, not a little girl.
I suck at this. Truly. I suck at letting go, and if there is one thing that parenting is all about its letting go. Letting go of your own wants and needs – in the name of the child. And while I know that most of it is in my head, my heart still argues that she isn’t old enough. Shes just a kid. Even though. Even though shes not.
So this is me. Trying to tell myself. That its ok. It will be ok. Even if I don’t fully believe that it will be. It has to be. I have to believe it will be. Because to me, she will always be that little girl.
A little over four years ago I gave it up. I don’t say it to brag I say it because even four years later, I still struggle. I still battle the thoughts every day. Some days more than others. Most days, I am able to keep leave the thoughts at the door, and able to continue on with life as normal as normal is these days. But then there are days like Sunday, when its all I can to keep my head on straight. Which means that other people pay. For my decisions.
I used to say that it wasn’t hurting anyone but myself, and while that was mostly true…anymore, its not. Anymore, when days like Sunday come around – I lash out. I hurt people, I say things, I do whatever it takes – because well, that’s what Im supposed to do, right? But then I pay for it the following day with a headache that lasts a week, and everyone else pays for it and I hear things like “You know what you said the other day hurt me.” And I just want to throw in the towel because no one EVER said that when I wasn’t fighting off the battles.
The worst I heard was “Your hurting yourself.” or “Think of what you could be doing with your life.” It was always directly related to me, and how I was hurting myself. But now. Its not.
And now.
I don’t know if its worth it or not.
Because I would much rather hurt myself than someone else. It doesn’t work, in the heat of the moment, in the middle of a struggle to talk myself down. It builds, and eventually it blows. And in the midst of the battle to keep myself sober, as stupid as it sounds, I can only talk myself out of one thing at a time.
I really don’t know how to say it. I really don’t even know what Im trying to say.
Just that I am struggling. And trying to decide if its worth it – to keep fighting through, hurting others. Or to just give in. Give up. In the heat of the moment, in the midst of the struggle and mind warping thoughts I have to wonder…is it really worth this?
The day comes and goes with little notice. Looking back over the week I can remember maybe one thing that happened. One thing that sticks out. Looking back over the past month, I can only remember a handful of events that stick out, jagged against the currents of life. The past year? Even less things stick out. Memories are being created, but over time things fade. Its funny that way. How I stress and worry about the stupid little things, and when its all said and done? Nothing is remembered. Except, perhaps, the areas that could have some work done.
Memories lumped together, making one long list of ideas called life. Compared against others lives, it fades in comparison.
I try.
But sometimes, I don’t. And those are the times that stick out to me the most. The times I didn’t try, FAILED opportunities, the what could have beens that live so close to my heart these days. The I didn’t give it enough, I could have given more moments.
I try to keep up with dishes. Laundry. And baths.
But then someone asks “When did he have a bath last?” And just by looking at him I could tell you “Its been a while.” I sometimes think its best. And sometimes, I just know its one more way I have failed.
I loose my cool, yell too much, don’t have enough patience, and more often it seems I am giving into their wants just to buy a moment of peace. Which doesn’t pay out in the long run. They arent little anymore. I cant argue with things like “Santa sees you” or “Get in bed before the monster eats you.” Things that I swore I would never say, coming out of my mouth, now being scoffed at by little adults.
Looking at them, I wonder. Will they make it? Will they make it to that part of life where I can finally breath? Something tells me no. That I will always worry and come up short. But maybe someday, I hope, they will be off making their own decisions without me holding them back with unwarranted worries that don’t exist.
A deep breath. Another day. The constant wonder of not knowing if this is enough. Bed time being pushed further and further ahead. Making the waking up hour harder, and the days longer. Everyday, I wake up. And I close my eyes just a few more minutes while trying to prepare myself for the day ahead. But nothing can ever prepare you for the unknown.
I look at my life, and I look at others. I wonder who I am, and who I will be. And then I realize that who I am really doesn’t matter. What matters is them. And I have to keep trying, even though sometimes it seems so pointless. Because they deserve a shot atleast. They deserve so much more, and I cant give them that if I sit here feeling sorry for myself and what I don’t have.
The morning sun comes in, and once again I box up the self doubts and who I could have been and put them aside. I pull him out of bed, getting slapped harder each and every morning by a kid who is no longer so little…Watching him struggle seems to be a personal reflection. So much I can relate with him, he is inside out. His insides plastered all over his out. Watching him react outwardly, knowing exactly how hes feeling because deep down inside…that’s how I react to. Its just covered by layers of skin and years of practice.
I hear stories. I close my eyes and see things that I don’t want to see. I see car accidents, I hear phones ringing, the day she doesn’t come home. The famous words of people before me ringing true in my ear, and suddenly I sit up. Thankful that for just one more day, it was just a dream. A sick dream being played out in my mind. I remind her, once again, not to accept rides from anyone, while she once again, rolls her eyes and tells me that she wouldnt HAVE to if I let her get her license. But agrees, atleast for one more day, not to get a ride from anyone. She mumbles something under her breath that I don’t hear, and don’t want to hear.
And once again, the day has started…
And then it ends. And I once again am left with the thoughts of what could have been done differently. Memories? I think its just one more thing to add to the list of failure.
Day in, and day out.
I try.
I fail.
And I try again. But do I really?
Its been…a difficult year. And as hard as I try, I cant come up with the words I want for you this year. While a lot of your life has been jokes and giggles, this year we have invented new ways of butting heads. Its been difficult, because while I have tried to understand where to draw the lines, you have figured out how to erase them. Its been difficult, because while I am trying to understand when to let go, you have already cut the lines and ran. Its been difficult, because while I still see you as a little girl, you are well on your way to becoming more than that.
While you have always been you, and while I have always loved that about you, this year has been difficult watching you try to be you, when everyone else wants you to be someone else. You’ve struggled, Ive struggled, its just been one of those years. And while I often just want to take you away from all the pain and struggles you seem to have this year, you always find a way out. You always find the escape that leaves you on the other side smiling and saying “See? Told you so!” and you do. Tell me so.
More often than not it seems.
I wonder, what you would say, if you knew that I thought these things. If you really knew. I don’t think you truly know, and to be completely honest, I don’t think you need to know, just yet. Your still trying to find a way to do it on your own. Your old enough now, you no longer need someone tagging along behind you telling you how to do it. You no longer need someone ahead of you showing you the way. But it seems you no longer want anyone standing beside you helping you out. Your trying, and Im trying, even though I know Im failing at so much lately.
You really are your own person. Your own kind of girl. And I do love that about you. You show the world how to get it done. And if you don’t know how, you will make it up just to get through. I have a lot to learn from you, even though you still have a lot to learn yourself.
I really wish I could tell you not to trade it in for something else, but more than that, just this once I wish you would listen and hear me, and really take it to heart. I worry that you don’t think you are good enough. That you think you have to change to be liked. What you dont know is that you ARE good enough and people LOVE you. Just how you are. You just don’t see it sometimes, and I don’t have the words or the capability to tell it to you.
Many nights this year have been spent awake, on your behalf. Things I have heard, things I have seen. Tell me that were in for it, and I wish I could stop it. Before its too late.
I cant give you everything you need for this life, I cant give you all the answers, and I certainly cant lead you all the way – I don’t know where your going, or who you will become. I only know that you seem to be struggling this year, and I wish there were something I could do, to help you.
Please know kid, that I do love you and am just as proud of you now as I was last year, and the year before. And I hope this year is a bit less difficult, for everyone involved. Happy fifteenth Birthday, kiddo.
May all YOUR dreams come true someday,
- Your Uncle
Easter 2012
This year, we didn’t dye eggs. I mean, we tried? The eggs just never made it that far. As of Easter Eve, we had two decent eggs, white in color, that have survived. That were rotten.
This year, we didn’t have ham.
This year, the Easter bunny still showed up – even thought 2/3 of them hold to their claims that he doesn’t exist.
This year, we saw the Easter bunny skipping down the sidewalk. And the 2/3 who didn’t believe? Werent sure what to say.
This year, certain kids ate way too much candy.
This year, a certain kid had an accident because of the above mentioned combined with the fact that he couldn’t get his pants undone.
This year, we had no unexpected guests. And no neighbors. No random kids.
This year, because we didn’t have ham, and instead had turkey, it felt like a very warm thanksgiving.
This year, we had sun. And 60 degree weather.
This year. Today. Was just another day in the whole scheme of things, but someone told me something in passing, that meant a lot to me, without her even realizing it.
Something simple, yet true. She simply said that these are the things they will remember when they grow up. When its all said and done, they arent going to remember the stupid things that I try so hard for. But they will remember the silly things. They probably wont remember the turkey vs. ham debate, but they might, if were lucky, remember the moments of too much candy, busting a gut laughing about something that really wasn’t all that funny. And in the end? What does it matter if they had too much sugar this year.
This year? We were here. Together. Laughing.
And those are the things I want to hang onto, this year. And the things I want to remember. For years to come.
