Nights like tonight, when I don’t feel well and the kids are bouncing off the walls, are hard. They’re worth it, I wouldn’t honestly have it any way but this way; they’re still HARD.
Movie Boy is literally bouncing around the house Nerf gun in hand…. shooting his siblings in the legs. He desperately wants somebody to play with him. He has spent the last couple days losing his privileges for the typical pre-teen crap kids pull. Now that he earned back some privileges he is full of energy.
Blue Girl, as much as she’d like to play and have fun, is incapable of playing without taking charge and ruling the world. She’s in that bossy teenage girl phase where if you look at her wrong she breaks down while criticizing everything around her. She’s also one of the kindest kids on the planet when she isn’t being moody. It is astounding to watch her vast array of emotional reactions. She keeps us on our toes.
Welding Boy has been working really hard on training his dog. She recently got rolled by a car in our driveway, so he’s trying to keep her safe moving forward. Stinking cattle dogs… just can’t help but try to herd moving cars. We’re just grateful that she wasn’t injured, or killed.
Broken Girl, still healing from her broken leg; still on crutches, has opted to hang with me this evening. We’re watching Good Will Hunting. In memorandum of her college physics course she struggled through.
Every now and then a Nerf dart flies past the screen, kid following right behind. Explosions of laughter reaching new volumes. Watching movies in this house comes with heavy distractions. It’s inevitable. It always has been.
My kids have been live wires from the time they entered the world. I used to have more than enough energy to keep up with them. Even, on some level, compete with them in an attempt to wear them out so they’d sleep at night. Sometimes I succeeded; more often though they succeeded in wearing me out so I’d sleep at night. As children usually do, they suddenly grew up by leaps and bounds. Their energy didn’t change, but at least it somewhat stabilized. I thought: “Thank goodness! I stand a chance of keeping up!”.
Then, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. With several reactive nerve points, chronic fatigue, chronic wide spread pain, nerve pain, generalized weakness, and migraines I’d known something was wrong for a long time. It just kind of all piled up on me, and began to impact the energy I had big time. I did hours of research. Spent long hours reading every shred of information I could do. I begged my soon to be ex to do some reading on the issue. He refused.
I put on my big girl panties, figured out how to deal and moved on. Because as I have learned one valuable lesson over the years: I’m a mom, and life moves on with or without me. I prefer it’s with me.
I pushed through pain as much as I could. I overdid myself regularly; just trying to keep up with the kids. The pain and burning would eventually get so intense I would be in bed for days- recovering. I HATED it when that happened. Every time it happened I hated it.
One time it got so bad I tried a new medicine. For the most part I’m not a huge medicine supporter. I was that desperate. I ended up sleeping for 16 hours straight. When I woke, I found my world was tilted 45 degrees. It would sway back and forth. Turns out I had temporary vertigo. Let’s just say I have not taken that medicine since.
Never in a million years did I think my ex would begin using my fibromyalgia against me; like a weapon of mass destruction. You see, he knew I’d put my big girl panties on every time. I’d make shit happen. With or without anybody else. I’m stubborn that way. He also knew, I’d run myself into the ground for the kids. Looking back I wonder if this was the open door that started him down his spiral path of control, manipulation, distraction, abuse, and deceit.
Fast forward to today. The rain has been playing games on my body all day. I don’t feel well. I ache. I find it hard to move. The burning pain is horrible under my clothing.
Of course there were things to be done today. I did them. Want to or not, life moves forward. So now I sit here pondering my situation, watching all the energy around me, cursing yet being thankful for the rain, and considering how lucky I actually am. Despite my pain. Despite everything else.
You see I’m lucky to be strong in the truth that know; that I live. I’m lucky to have my kids by my side, making amazing progress; cheering me on during hard days. I’m lucky to have amazing friends. They offer support, love, acceptance, loyalty like I have not known in my so called “love relationship”. I’m lucky to be stubbornly grounded in my identity.
I’m not saying any of this luck came easy. I’m not saying I haven’t had to work to find my roots; my strength. I’m not saying I didn’t temporarily loose my identity during the worst of my abuse. I’m definitely not saying that dealing with kids whom have suffered for years is remotely easy. None of this is easy. Especially when you’re left to defend yourself, to fight lies by yourself, to raise your children to become decent human beings by yourself.
What I am saying is this: IT IS ALL WORTH IT.
Making sure my kids are safe, teaching them to be positive contributors to society, asking them to ponder taking the higher road… not out of pity, not out of resentment. Teaching them that taking the higher road is respectful toward the goodness of humanity. Letting them know that the higher road doesn’t mean we are weak; doesn’t mean we forget, or even forgive if we don’t want to. The higher road means that we trust in karma.
Everything is worth it, for them.
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