I try. It is my job. I have to. Let me preface this post by saying I believe in my boys. I believe in David's full recovery. I refuse to ever give up on that. But I have difficult times. Not the day-to-day difficulties of being a mom and being a special needs mom. I mean deep emotional struggle.
I mean serious bad feelings. Horrific and graphic memories of all the things that have happened. Prolonged isolation. Guilt, grief, jealousy and just plain exhaustion. Then I start thinking, there are others who have worse things going on. I don't think life is a bowl of cherries for anyone. But, sometimes, even in my own perceptions, the way things are is so overwhelming that it becomes numbing. Its like when you turn on the hot water and it is so hot you don't realize it...in fact, it kind of feels freezing cold. Intensity. Then it is like a fever, intensity, then apathy, then intensity again...nauseating.
When people see David or ask about him, or what happened, I am level headed, and try to be understanding. I willingly explain things and am happy that people want to know. I am thankful that people genuinely care. But I also feel like the constant cheerleader. I have noticed that the way I act can determine others' reactions. So for the sake of my family, I feel it is my duty to be the optimist. It is my job to let people know that yes, my son is in there, and yes, he knows what is going on, and yes, he IS going to recover.
However, sometimes, I just want to scream FUCK! I want to say, fucking shit, I'm tired. When we were doing the program, I kept busy around the clock, I did not stop, I did not eat, I rarely showered. Now that we are working towards balance, I have time to start processing. In all honesty, I miss hurling myself into an endeavor that I felt would be "the cure." I miss it because I didn't have time to acknowledge my feelings. Now I have time for that, and it hurts. I have time to think about the future, and I see good and bad. I look forward to all the wonderful things my boys are going to do. But I also think about the ever changing but constant pain. I think about the fact that from here on out there will be incessant demands on me from everywhere. I think about all the things I want to do, and how I want to paint and then I just get sad and I just don't have the energy.
I mentioned apathy earlier in this post. What I mean by that is, I'm too hurt and overwhelmed to care about stuff that normally would matter. The little things, like dishes breaking, mosquito bites, that I have all these ideas for painting and creative projects. I don't care that my clothes don't match or whether or not I'm wearing makeup. I don't care that people behind me are honking because my mind is on a million other things. I don't care that my plans were ruined. I don't care that I don't go out regularly. I don't care that I never sleep. I'm too tired to.
All of this has made me as resilient as a damn cockroach. And all of this has also hurt.