I sit here thinking about how tired I am of this world, or more specifically, my broken mind with in this world. I firmly believe I will no longer have to suffer (Read: deal with) the craziness of my mind in the next life. the intrusive thoughts have been plaguing me a great deal lately. Sometimes I wish I could quiet the horrible things my mind brings before my mental and emotional eyes. The dissonance is, I am a mother.
As a mother, I am an example. As an example, I set the bar on the capacity and capability of how to keep going. If I give up, so too might my children. They have scars just like I have scars. New scars will form and my children and I continue through life. What a depressing thought. But that’s the reality of life. I don’t want my children to give up. They have a better chance of finding healing as they are discovering the origins of some of their mental health challenges now. It’s taken 30+ years for me to get to where I am today from the time my mind really started showing me its craziness.
Ultimately, the point is, I don’t want to be here anymore, but I can’t go anywhere yet. I’m sure I’ll end up having a long life, but that just depresses me more. I want to be with my husband. The man who would hold me when I broke down until I was able to move forward again. I don’t have that support anymore. I can’t rely on my children to take up that role because it’s not their role to fill. They don’t need my broken self weighing down their own fragile concerns. And yet, I am both a burden and a comfort for them.
Ever since BJ died, my children often told me “don’t die” when I left the house. It started with my youngest and my older two have also repeated the command as well. They don’t do it as often as they used to, but they still get nervous when I’m gone too long or when they don’t know where I am.
The point is, I can’t be done yet and that depresses me. I’m so ready to be done. Unfortunately, my time to be with my husband and free of this broken mind is not yet. So here I am pouring my heart and brokenness out for everyone to see. Whether I want to or not, I can’t leave my children to figure it all out on their own. They deserve the opportunity to learn from their broken mother’s hard-won lessons.
I hope and pray those lessons will have them some grief in the future. When choosing between my mental battle with myself and my children, I chose my children. I know I’m supposed to choose life, but I don’t. I choose them no matter how great the pressure is. They are my reason for staying.
