Co-dependency Killed the Cat

& Co-parenting came to be about as easy as pulling teeth with tweezers.

“I JUST WANT YOU GUYS TO STOP FIGHTING!”

-our child screams out so sharply that his words feel like shards of glass, shredding their way into my already heavy chest. For half of a second, it was like watching shrapnel shred though each inch of that room, while still not being enough to cut the tension built up between us.

“I’m scared & don’t feel safe right now.”

Draven didn’t have to say the exact words for me to hear it, ’cause I could feel them radiating through him, since his daddy very first got here. This 5 year old little boy just stood there- with exhausted little light brown eyes, staring straight through me. I shuddered. Still, I move in towards him callously & demand that he go play somewhere else, like I always do.

to be continued . . .

A mother’s love is unconditional. Her temper is another story.

I can be the first to admit that my temper has went out of control. I can blame it on my anxiety or try to pretend my children haven’t seen me go bat shit, but I can’t. My whole idea is to share every raw & unfiltered truth behind my closed doors. It’s not always pretty, but I know in my heart that someone, somewhere, can relate… If not, then send help. I’m just psycho.

My oldest has probably seen me in my worst stages. I don’t know why, but he’s an easy target being a rowdy, inattentive, little boy. Compared to his younger brother, who spends the majority of his time trapped in his play pen, he’s more likely to make a mess or misbehave causing me to become more & more impatient. That’s the key, I guess- “patience”.

So, here we are. Another bad day. Mom’s impatient, the kid’s are bored. Mom didn’t feel like going outside, so instead the inside has been demolished. The kids have all the energy & mom is the outlet. I’ve been given at least 20 chances to play with my babies, yet I selfishly denied each time, while physically watching as disappointment washes over their faces..

When those bad days come to an end, is when the guilt sets in. Every. Single. Time.

I find myself kissing those little faces good night & finally getting to lay down in bed- only to feel restless with thoughts. “I’m wasting time. They’ve already grown so fast.” “I hate myself, I shouldn’t treat my kids like this..” “They deserve better.” “I need to do better.” “Tomorrow, I will be better.”

You ask yourself how you can make it up to your 4 year old child, for the awful things you previously said.. You don’t understand why you would be so harsh to your own son. There’s not a thing in the world that can fix that baby’s broken heart, except for change… but eventually it may happen again, & once more, you’re a failure & the kids will never understand why… Why mommy won’t play. Why mommy is in her bed again. Why mommy is so loud. Why mommy is crying. Why mommy?

Sometimes, my temper just defeats me in every way possible. It’s true that you can fix wounds but words will scar. I guess in a time of my life where I feel a little lost, the signs are hard to see through my convincing self pity. Nevermind how the kids are actually oblivious to any harm that may be done. The “why mommy”‘s always turn into “I love you, mommy”‘s & “Can I have chips for breakfast, mommy?”‘s.

Temper. Impatience. Guilt. Selfishness.

Enemies against motherhood.