How Would You Do It?

You know I’m really getting tired of the same thing being thrown in my face. That fact that I don’t know my kids and the fact they don’t talk to me since I’m never around. I’m getting tired of hearing all that I don’t do right with my kids and how much people feel sorry for my kids not being able to see their mom very often. Better yet, I do believe it was stated, “at least my son will know me and won’t be raised by a babysitter or daycare”. I think it’s so funny to know that the people who look down on me when they do, they are at their weakest moment. They either don’t have their kids, their kids don’t know them, or they feel my children’s disability is their sickness and can be cured with the right parent. I love that I have this wonderful little gift that points out when things are wrong with people and all it takes is a bit of open mindedness and understanding to get the little hints that come from little people and what’s wrong. I love that I may not see my kids very often, but at least when I do see them… they are my entire world. Everything I do, say, or become apart of involves them. Not stuck in front of a movie, not sent in the other room, and not stuck in a car while I do my own thing for whatever lazy reason.

I know my kids and I have my kids. I know each one has their own likes and dislikes and their own personalities. I know each is coming into their own in their own time. No matter how long that takes some of them. I know I have to work 40 some hours a week trying to find some type of side income to help with the basic living expenses to make things work. I know I have a good 1300 in basic bills alone just to keep a roof over my children’s head. I know some people would be helpless with out me. I know I have been a stepping stone, a doormat, a shoulder to cry on, a place to live, and a family member or friend to anyone in my life who has crossed my path whether friend or foe. I have spent my life pleasing others and keeping them happy. I’ve helping people quit drugs, drinking, sex, lieing, cheating, and so many other things. I’ve kept my word every time I told someone I would be there for them regardless of who they were or what they had done. I know all I have asked of people in return is acceptance of my family and I. I’m not asking for financial support as everyone has their own bills and issues to deal with that take their pay check from their pocket. I know in all cases but one I have never regretted helping anyone in my life and never once asked for anything in return regardless of whatever pain it caused me or how far it put me behind.

I am striving everyday with a child falling deeper and deeper from reality in a small hope that he might be the statistics and actually come through with flying colors into a life that is so much better to live. I work everyday on ways to be a better mom, wife, sister, daughter, and over all person. To be a mom is such a struggle. It’s more than just runny noses, and sore throats. It’s more than just feeding and bathing a child. It’s so much more than just holding them when they are honestly scared or hugging them when they are so proud. It’s being there for them when they are going through some of the most horrific things in their lives with out flinching or showing an ounce of fear or judgment. Knowing any day they could turn into serial killers, rapists, murderers, robbers, drug dealers, or whatever else humanity has decided is a great escape of a real way to deal with life. I know with the strength of diagnosis my child has and the amount of death he sees on a daily basis, it’s gets harder and harder to keep my smile and my eyes wide open breathing deeply in hopes of not showing fear. I know what my child locks down and his pupils dilate, I have to think fast and keep an open heart for that little boy way deep inside who’s lost and scared. I know it’s not fair to judge or think differently of my child for a brain disorder that will never go away or change. I know this has been a serious life lesson and struggle since he was 7 years old. I know I have had to re convince every person who has ever walked into his life of his life time disability.

It’s not easy reteaching everyone who ever comes into contact with him. It’s not easy to “know” everything that is going on with my son at all times. He doesn’t always tell me all freaky ways he’s watched people get murdered in his world. He doesn’t always feel I can handle all the blood, guts, and gore that he sees on a daily basis. I guess telling me about dead people crawling through the ceiling is not a topic to share at the dinner table. The voices telling him barbaric ways to kill himself must not be a good bed time story. I have a feeling his awesome dead bodies he gets to step over just to walk down the hallway, is not the way to say good morning mother. So when is a good time? When is it OK to throw in the conversation that you are seeing death? When is it a good time to share with your mother that you have been told countless times how to kill yourself and there’s nothing you can do to make the voices stop? Why can’t you just sit down and allow yourself to show all your emotions in detail of all the nasty visions that are coming to you? Can you tell your friends? Wait… do you have friends? Can you have friends or family? Wouldn’t they have to know though? Wouldn’t they have to be able to handle the details of the real you? Why couldn’t they know about all those dirty nasty secrets that you have to keep or the “Death King” will make you pay?

I guess I don’t fully understand my son and sometimes it’s hard to believe these voices and visions he experiences, but when I sit there mid conversation and all of a sudden my shy in the corner little stuttering guy turns into this extremely well spoken dominate man with an direct attitude and perfect eye contact …. you tell me how I am supposed to react… You tell me how you would react if your sons voice changed, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head and then all of a sudden he was another kid and was talking about death and killing like he’d done it before… You tell me how well you would know your son if these things happened… can you tell me that? Can you honestly say you would know everything that your son was thinking and what was real? It’s such a daily struggle to sit back and watch my boy become a man and to have thrown in my face that I don’t know my kid or that he doesn’t talk to me as much as someone else and never will hurts like a knife cutting my throat. I can feel the pain way deep inside of my son and I can feel the fear. I feel when his thoughts race and his heart skips a beat. I can feel the tears that fight to come out. I can completely place myself in his shoes. Not because I can perfectly see what he sees, not because he tells me everything, not because I’m a professional and know all the signs. I know and feel these things because I’ve had fucking practice. I’ve been working at this disease of his since he was 7 years old. I’ve been working with him through voice, drawing, singing, work outs, building, sewing, and so many other things I can get my little fingers on to help him cope.

I know these things because I have no choice but to deal with them and love him regardless of knowing one day he could snap and kill me. I have to wake up everyday with the hope that we have taken the right steps that day to make his days easier to handle and to help him understand that we love him no matter what. I have to continue looking at him with very open non judgmental eyes and honest caring heart no matter what he tells me or I hear from him. I have to realize that there’s always going to be tough days where it’s hard to get back a hold of him and bring him back from that scary horrific world of voices and violence. I do all this because he’s my son and I love him. God gave me a son and I never asked for perfection. I asked for a child to love and hold and care for and raise no matter what. I got a lot more than I asked for, but I know somewhere out there I’m not alone. I know someone out there has a very challenged child with Psychosis, or DID, or Autism, or Paranoid Schizophrenia, or whatever else is out there that children are tortured with on a daily basis. It’s those parents that will understand what my partner and I go through on a daily basis and what we will more than likely continue to go through and find ways to handle until the day we die.

I may not be perfect and Lord knows I’ve done my share of stupid stuff in my life. I do know I have make the decision to be a mother years ago and continue learning the effects of my decision everyday and every year. There’s all kinds of books and manuals out there of how to be a parent, but how many of them will spell out how to deal with a 7 year old Psychotic child? How many people or professionals take classes on what to expect from a child who sees death and hears voices? How many counselors can honestly tell you they know how to treat or handle a child who has details about death they have never seen on family, friends, or even himself? How many people do we go through before we find someone we can honestly trust with our children? How many times do we have to be lied to or hurt before we put our walls up so that our children don’t have to be destroyed again?

It scares me all the time that one day I may not be able to handle my wonderful little boy anymore. It terrifies me that one day I may not be able to control the medications that he needs, or the counseling he needs, or even the family members who “try” to be there for them in fear he may push them away. I ask you.. how would you do it?

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