I saw his diagnosis today
I saw his diagnosis instead of his face today
I saw the way that he couldn't focus, I saw the way that he was out of control, I saw how he flitted from subject to subject. I didn't see my handsome little man. I didn't see the way he saw things in a light that I will never see them. I didn't see his laughter, his joy, his happiness. I saw him being a nuisance. I saw him making a spectacle of himself. I saw the embarrassment that other had for us.
I'm tired. Not 'give up' tired. But definitely discouraged tired. It's a lot to deal with, on top of the foster system, working 40+ hours, maintaining a semblance of a romantic relationship and friendships (and probably failing), extra-curricular activities, and a side business. I'm failing....and hard.
Even having a night to be an adult doesn't cure this exhaustion. Sleep doesn't touch it. And yes, I know I asked to do this. This was my choice and I get that, others don't see why this should be so hard. I don't see why this takes so much from me. But it does. And I'm not proud of how I snap at Little Man for being a typical boy with an abundance of energy. I hate the tears I illicit because he's pushed a little too much and I yell at him to get his shoes on and in the car. It definitely keeps me up at night with worry.
I also know that he's growing and testing boundaries. I know that he is learning what he can and can't say or do in a safe environment. I know he's discovering who he is and he's coming closer to his actual chronological age. The talking back and sass is becoming a norm and while it bugs the poop out of me, I know it's natural.
But some days, I need help. And not just help to pick up the house or do the dishes. But actual mental help. I get a lot of "you're doing fine", "you need to be strong for him", etc...but what I really need is support in the form of understanding, willingness to listen and not try to fix my problem, or even just offer to burn the world to the ground for me. Instead, I'm told I'm strong enough to handle this and that this is what I signed up for. Which, I did...I know.
I saw the way that he couldn't focus, I saw the way that he was out of control, I saw how he flitted from subject to subject. I didn't see my handsome little man. I didn't see the way he saw things in a light that I will never see them. I didn't see his laughter, his joy, his happiness. I saw him being a nuisance. I saw him making a spectacle of himself. I saw the embarrassment that other had for us.
I'm tired. Not 'give up' tired. But definitely discouraged tired. It's a lot to deal with, on top of the foster system, working 40+ hours, maintaining a semblance of a romantic relationship and friendships (and probably failing), extra-curricular activities, and a side business. I'm failing....and hard.
Even having a night to be an adult doesn't cure this exhaustion. Sleep doesn't touch it. And yes, I know I asked to do this. This was my choice and I get that, others don't see why this should be so hard. I don't see why this takes so much from me. But it does. And I'm not proud of how I snap at Little Man for being a typical boy with an abundance of energy. I hate the tears I illicit because he's pushed a little too much and I yell at him to get his shoes on and in the car. It definitely keeps me up at night with worry.
I also know that he's growing and testing boundaries. I know that he is learning what he can and can't say or do in a safe environment. I know he's discovering who he is and he's coming closer to his actual chronological age. The talking back and sass is becoming a norm and while it bugs the poop out of me, I know it's natural.
But some days, I need help. And not just help to pick up the house or do the dishes. But actual mental help. I get a lot of "you're doing fine", "you need to be strong for him", etc...but what I really need is support in the form of understanding, willingness to listen and not try to fix my problem, or even just offer to burn the world to the ground for me. Instead, I'm told I'm strong enough to handle this and that this is what I signed up for. Which, I did...I know.
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