The Hardest Part...

If I had to sit here and contemplate what the hardest part of this whole ordeal is, I'd have to say looking my kids in the face and feeling so much guilt and shame inside.  Guilt for staying so long. Shame for not being strong enough to leave. Guilt for seeing all the trials and tribulations they go through. Shame for not speaking up for myself. Guilt for not...picking the right father for them.  It's true what "they" say. Guilt and regret will break you down until you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel.  It's so easy to say, it's not my fault or he did this to me. However, the reality of the situation is, you can say it until you're blue in the face but it won't make you believe it.  You have to feel it.  As of yet, I don't feel anything but negative.  Sometimes I just sit here and wish I didn't feel at all. It would be so much easier if it all just went away.  I want it to disappear like the stars when the sun peaks over the horizon to say good morning.

The warning signs were always there.  Maybe I wanted to love so badly that I was willing to overlook them.  Maybe I wanted the fairy tale ending that you see in the movies.  My favorite by far is Pretty Woman. Who wouldn't want Richard Gere showing up on their fire escape, in all his glory, telling you he's your knight in shining armor?  Eh, maybe not Richard Gere...I'll take Shemar Moore instead :o) Anyways...

Did I want to love so badly that I overlooked the needs of my children?  I was so busy worrying about my own hopes and dreams that I forgot about theirs.  I robbed my daughter of her precious childhood.  She lost her faith, hope and trust because I wanted to love... because I wanted my fairy tale. Instead of worrying about what she was going to wear to school, she was worried about protecting me and her brothers and sister.  Instead of wishing for the latest toy or book, she was wishing for a "normal" family.  How do I, as a mother, get over that guilt?  How do I move to space where I can look at myself in the mirror and say, I did the best I could?  Deep down inside I feel like a failure. I feel like the lowest of the low. My son struggles everyday with PTSD/ADHD. He struggles in school. He struggles at home. He struggles to control his emotions. My beautiful boy feels like the world is on his shoulders...and it's my fault. How do I talk to him and say, it's going to be ok, when I don't know if it will?  How do I look at him and not feel ashamed?  I did this to him. I could have prevented all of this...if I were stronger. I teach my kids that they should always take responsibility for their actions.  Well, it was my responsibility to protect them. It was my responsibility to let them be little. Let them be happy and carefree.  I'm taking responsibility and it's a hard dose of medicine to swallow.

This is no pity party.  I don't feel sorry for myself. I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm saying this so you won't have to.  I hope my words can save you from a lifetime of guilt and shame. I'm saying this so you can look at your child and see the sparkle of innocence in their eyes; not the dull ember of a lost childhood.

Don't stay because you love him. Leave him because you love your children more.  Maybe if I took my own advice, my heart wouldn't be so heavy. 

“See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven."   Matthew 18:10