ladee
VIP Member
I always pay attention to the first thing I think about when I wake up. Today, it was memories of when my son (who is now 46), was around 1 1/2 years old. Two memories. I had a 'special cabinet' for him in the kitchen. It had pots and pans and plastic spoons and lids. He could play with these things when I was cooking. It kept him occupied and I could still keep an eye on him.
I looked around to check on him and he had something white in his mouth.... long story short, he had gotten ahold of tablet I had put out for roaches... I do not know how it got there. It was his cabinet. I always made sure it was clean and safe. Off to ER we go. They did not know how much he had ingested, so had to pump his stomach... I was not allowed in there when they were doing this. I do not remember anything but them taking him out of my arms and taking him back.
Next memory. Had taken him in for a check up, he was about three. As we were walking out, the dr kind of scooted him in the rear, playing. He turned around and told the Dr to not kick him in the ass !!! Oh lord, but everyone laughed.
.
So many memories of when he was little. He was an awesome child. Was reading by the time he was four, had a natural curiosity about so many things.
But , there is also so much I do not remember. I was a teen mom. Had a typical abusive childhood myself, so was not wanting the same for my son. But I also did not know I was sick. Did not know what to do when the depressions hit. Did not know what to do when the rage would come over me in waves...so much I do not remember....I do know I always put him in his crib and went outside when the rage was present.. I did not want to hurt him.
To make this shorter, I did not know what was WRONG with me. I have been a total failure as a mom. Or at least what I wanted to be as a mom. So much I don't remember.
It was not until about 30 years later that I was diagnosed with PTSD. Will save all the in between gory details for when, and if, I ever get the courage to do a diary.
So many days, , I HATE myself , hate hate hate the me that can not get it right. I can not undo the past, but seem to keep repeating the present. In regard to being so confused about what is real and what isn't. He can make me crazy with guilt. I don't know if he does it on purpose, or it is just me not being able to forgive myself..... I only know, I have got to get back into therapy for this. Me hating and not forgiving myself is not doing anyone any good. He is such an awesome man. He apparently raised himself. No that isn't true. I did give him the best I had. It was no where what he really needed... but I couldn't give away what I did not have.
I have to stop this viscous cycle. I so hate myself. I had no business having a child.
I looked around to check on him and he had something white in his mouth.... long story short, he had gotten ahold of tablet I had put out for roaches... I do not know how it got there. It was his cabinet. I always made sure it was clean and safe. Off to ER we go. They did not know how much he had ingested, so had to pump his stomach... I was not allowed in there when they were doing this. I do not remember anything but them taking him out of my arms and taking him back.
Next memory. Had taken him in for a check up, he was about three. As we were walking out, the dr kind of scooted him in the rear, playing. He turned around and told the Dr to not kick him in the ass !!! Oh lord, but everyone laughed.
.
So many memories of when he was little. He was an awesome child. Was reading by the time he was four, had a natural curiosity about so many things.
But , there is also so much I do not remember. I was a teen mom. Had a typical abusive childhood myself, so was not wanting the same for my son. But I also did not know I was sick. Did not know what to do when the depressions hit. Did not know what to do when the rage would come over me in waves...so much I do not remember....I do know I always put him in his crib and went outside when the rage was present.. I did not want to hurt him.
To make this shorter, I did not know what was WRONG with me. I have been a total failure as a mom. Or at least what I wanted to be as a mom. So much I don't remember.
It was not until about 30 years later that I was diagnosed with PTSD. Will save all the in between gory details for when, and if, I ever get the courage to do a diary.
So many days, , I HATE myself , hate hate hate the me that can not get it right. I can not undo the past, but seem to keep repeating the present. In regard to being so confused about what is real and what isn't. He can make me crazy with guilt. I don't know if he does it on purpose, or it is just me not being able to forgive myself..... I only know, I have got to get back into therapy for this. Me hating and not forgiving myself is not doing anyone any good. He is such an awesome man. He apparently raised himself. No that isn't true. I did give him the best I had. It was no where what he really needed... but I couldn't give away what I did not have.
I have to stop this viscous cycle. I so hate myself. I had no business having a child.
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