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A Rough Night, Pt. II

Yes, this will be a series, in an effort to properly separate my thoughts and to not create a lengthy post.

So, after spending that long night with Daniel, the one briefly described in this post, I had a surge of emotions surrounding this event.  They should be detailed.

Daniel and I were going through a rough patch.  I was doing a ton of yelling and screaming and not enough listening and patience.  We were really at each other’s throats and it was causing a lot of discourse between us.  It was truly a difficult time.

I was having trouble pulling my blog posts (here) together and truly just struggling with everything that I was trying to accomplish.

I took some time and really listened to myself and listened to my son and realized that I was in my tunnel vision mode and not paying him the quality of attention that he required.  The moment I fixed that, things drastically changed.

Then he got sick.  He was so helpless and dependent and I had no choice but to pour every ounce of love that I have into him.  I was deeply saddened and crazy worried about him.  He like literally wasn’t dying but, in my dramatic, anxious mind, he was getting close.  This made us closer, it helped us to solidify our already super tight bond.

With this perspective, my mind and heart went to the children in Texas.  I can’t even put the term “migrant” before the children – I can’t label or categorize them.  My heart won’t allow it.  I couldn’t fathom how those parents felt.  Whatever drove those adults to flee their current situation to find some level of freedom and a new life is a completely different level of stress that I can’t imagine for myself either.  But the idea of wanting better for yourself and your child, trust me, I get it.

To be stripped from your parents, placed in a “tent city” with other children with unknown diseases, for ANY period of time has got to do some psychological damage.  These kids will never be the same.  I literally cry for them and pray for them daily.  It hurts too much to even think about; I can barely imagine what actually going through it feels like.

And this brings me to the point of this post, abandonment.  I don’t mention much in regards to my childhood here.  I think that it is irrelevant, mostly but, this time, it makes sense.  We all come from something and we simply cannot run from it.

I had a rough time with my mother, until I went to live with my father in my teens.  She was in and out for the majority of the time.  This left me with some terrible feelings not only about her but, about myself as well.  I felt very worthless and very abandoned; unloved even.  I couldn’t figure out how someone who shares the same DNA could just walk out on you and not even care.

It pained me deeply as I watched and prayed over my son that night, as I held him close to me while he shivered from the chills.  I cried tears of so many emotions.  Still, at this age and as a mother, I cannot understand how someone would not want to spend their time with something that they themselves created.

Daniel has his little quirks about him but, I could never ever EVER imagine living my life without him.  In fact, in my moments of pure weakness, my only driving force – the only thing that kept me alive.  When I wasn’t a good enough reason, he was, and he will always be.

Anyone who doesn’t look at their miniature creation like this is simply missing out and I don’t feel sorry for them at all.

*more to come*

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