The holidays are over. Thank fuck for that. Neither of us would have lasted much longer.
Kids are beautiful and special and give meaning to your life.
He is the reason I get out of bed in the morning.
I cannot convey the relief I feel right now, having him back at school.
Raising children is incredibly hard work and every parent struggles now and then. But when said parent struggles to force herself through life and barely copes with her own mess, how is she meant to devote whatever is left to the raising of another life? And when said other life, is himself struggling to learn to control his impulses and emotions what are we to do?
I just want him to stop smashing up the house every time I say he can’t have cake for breakfast.
(Only a slight exaggeration).
He screams, I scream.
He cries, I cry.
We’re both lost, drowning in a sea of emotions, neither of us able to find our way to the shore of sanity.
How is this fair on him?
When he is falling apart, I am supposed to be the one person in the world that can keep him together. I’m supposed to his rock. The solid foundation which the rest of his life will be built upon.
How can I be that for him, when I don’t have a foundation myself?
I’m exhausted, lost, confused.
I feel ashamed, a profound sense of guilt.
And I’m angry, with myself and with the healthcare system that is failing us both.
We live in a constant battle, the only signs; a broken box of confiscated toys he won’t stop throwing at me, the cracks in the walls where he literally bangs his head in frustration, half forgotten reward charts he rips off the walls.
And I’m trying, I’m trying so hard but I’m not enough. I need help, he needs help.
Time outs, don’t work. Counting to 10 doesn’t help.
- His stress ball
- Hitting teddies
- Screaming into pillows
- His feelings book
- Ripping up his feelings book
- Drawing his ‘anger monsters’
- Ripping up his ‘anger monsters’
What do I do now? Where do we go from here?