On a good day, parenting will test the integrity of your character. On a bad day, parenting will test your will to live. Parenting children with trauma histories will cause you to test the integrity of everything and everyone you thought you knew, for the rest of your life.
~J. Skrobisz

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Fix This

Prose and poetry original works by blog author, copyright laws apply
Lately I've taken to imagining what life will be like later, when we're not in the throes of raising preadolescent, medically disabled children that are raging and screaming and metabolizing meds too quickly. AB is actually rushing headlong into puberty, pulling ahead of Sissy as if it's a race to the finish line. Sissy has stalled out and I'm finding myself desperately hoping she'll hurry up and get menses over with already. I've got it in my head that once she jumps this hurdle in her hormones she'll be moderately manageable because right now? Right now it's hellatious.

In my imagination, my house is quiet, peaceful even. If my house could talk, it would weep. All the anger and rage that has reverberated off these walls for the last few years would just seep through the sheet rock and puddle in pools of black tar on the floor. Then I'd get a shop vac and suck it all up and dump it down the drain, good bye forever, hate. Bye-bye scream fests. Adios primal rage. Au revoir head banging on the padded walls. Auf weidersehen psycho crazy crap. In my imagination, a soft, warm glowing light in the front window guides me home, to tranquility, to love's waiting arms, to warmth, to hope, to beauty.

In my imagination the sky is blue with wispy clouds gently floating on cool breezes and it's safe to smile at them. No one is going to scream at me for being happy.

In my mind the phone rings and I have a pleasant conversation without interruption and my conversation has NOTHING to do with doctors, medications, therapy, respite or waivers.

When I daydream of my future I'm preparing a meal for The Dad that is nutritious, delicious and enjoyed. No one is screaming that it tastes yucky, no one is vomiting it up at the table because of sensory issues. No one is screaming that they won't eat it, ever, that I'm mean for making them try it.

In the future I pretend that Sissy is all better and AB isn't stimming. I imagine that a fairy godmother has appeared out of thin air, waved a magic wand and suddenly The Dad and I are no longer solely responsible for their well being because we've done a good job and they are self-sufficient.

When I close my eyes, I've created something beautiful with my life. It's really all that I wanted in the first place, to live on this planet and know that the path I've lead has created more lovely things than ugly; that for knowing me and being a part of my life people are better, not worse. I see a gorgeous stained-glass tapestry of colors, something that takes your breath away and makes you say, "oh my," in a hushed tone followed by a sigh of "wow."

Then I sit at the table with The Dad and serve him breakfast with fresh coffee and he reads the paper and I thumb through a quilt magazine and we maybe play footsies under the table without even looking at each other or saying a word.

And I smile. A warm, slow, happy smile.

Then I open my eyes and i see a tornado barreling toward my house like a Tasmanian devil hell bent on destroying everything, roaring in fury that I shouldn't be. All I can do is scream back, my mouth opens spontaneously and an ungodly noise escapes my body. It looks like a toxic black tar.

My life is stuck in reverse.
I've loved someone and it's gone to waste.
The tears stream down my face
And it only gets worse.

Lights are guiding me away from home
Because there's no fix for this.
It can't be fixed.
It can't be undone.

This will mar my eternity.
I will never know what I'm worth
The rage has shattered my stained-glass tapestry
Into millions of lead-filled shards hell bent on hurting.

And I scream with the walls
In silent horror
The depth of pain and despair
Would obliterate the dry wall
Returning it to piles of dust;
A cataclysmic explosion of pain and anguish
Reducing all tangible things to microscopic particles
Floating on the wind in suspended animation.

I've got neither what I want nor what I need.
I'm so exhausted but I can't sleep
I've tried my best but I'll never succeed.
I can't replace what I've invested.
I've gone too far and I can't go back.

The rage destroys what I construct
Every chance it gets.
The lights lead me away
This can't be fixed
It can't be undone.
I'm stuck in reverse.

I close my eyes and i try to sleep.
I block the rage that engulfs this reality.
I see a light that guides me
To a home, a future I'll never know.
I smile a slow, warm smile of happiness in defiance
As I sob a torrent.


Singinpraises said...

I realize as your BFF I am biased, however, I wish to chime in and say that A.) you have not CREATED anything ugly - EVER, even though you have to deal with it every second of every day. B.) I am INFINITELY better having you in my life!!! XOXOXOXOXOXO

Cyndi said...

I am right along with you dreaming these same dreams, maybe some day, hopefully soon.

Lisa said...

It's good to have dreams. In dreams lie hope for our future. WE still have a future. I don't want to think too much about the kids futures anymore for obvious reasons. Can we be okay seeing them once or twice a year when they're grown? Can we accept that this is as good as it will ever be with them?