Triggers for Kids

Monday was epic.

Not in a good way, mind you.

It was bad.

From beginning to end.

It was one of those days that you literally thank the Universe that you never have to do it again.

Ever.

On top of my addiction, my cognitive distortion due to abuse and neglect (which I am not yet ready to get into on the blog)... I also have depression and anxiety.

Pretty rad, right?!

And permanent issues from the Conversion Stroke.

I'm a potato sack of goodness, I tell ya!

Monday took every single one of those and wrapped it up into an enormous hunk of  newborn poop and then set a stick of dynamite to it and launched it right into my face.

Epic.

Speaking of poop, I came home to a lovely surprise from the dog on the living room carpet. 

It took a fork (that's right, a kitchen freaking fork) for me to pry it out of the carpet.

Braxton had been sick all day and was in bed. 

I hollered at Colton (louder than I should have) to go clean the complex.
And then I tried to have a conversation with Kaydon and it immediately went down hill...

Have you ever seen grown people attempt to ride a cardboard box or an ice block down an incredibly steep grass hill that you can't even walk down safely??

There is no stopping that train wreck!

That was the type of down hill conversation we are discussing here. 

I raised my voice more than once.

I swore more than once.

I wept like a newborn who had just had that stupid heel poke.

Then, I shut down.

Light off, no one is home!

I messaged T and told her not to talk to me for a week.

A week!

I thought about where I could walk in front of a semi truck on the freeway.

You guys, I am serious.

I was a mess.

This recovery and treatment and counseling and dealing with everyone else's opinions and perceptions and depression and anxiety and a broken brain to begin with  had taken its toll and I was done.

This is real life.

There are moments when this girl is strong, brave and ready to run for President of something - anything!

There are moments when this girl is a sassy, feisty soul who is ready to kick some trash on a moment's notice.

There are moments when this girl could care less about what other people think or what other people do behind my back.

Then, there are days like Monday when the weight of Planet Earth has crushed my soul and I have nothing left to give.

T immediately went into T mode and pretty much made it impossible for me to not talk to her.

God send she is.

I called my dad.

I poured my heart out to my dad.

I got on my knees and simply said, "I need help. Amen."

My kids are hurting. 

They are angry.

In the midst of all of this chaos of recovery and treatment and counseling, I am still a single mother, raising my children on my own.

I don't have anyone that I can say to: "I need a break here."

There is no one else to make dinner or to clean up the dog shiz.

There is no one else for my children to look to for stability and love and emotional help.

And, let's face it - I'm not the best!

Every.Single.Thing. I do or don't do effects these boys.

Everything.

It can be as innocent as going to the gym to lay on the massage chair and they are freaking out.

It can be as innocent as going to a baseball game in Ogden and they are questioning everything.

I can be playing Words with Friends on my phone and they are questioning what is on my phone.

They are triggered by everything.

And rightly so.

So, in my attempt to get better and to be better, I have to constantly keep in mind the healing that my boys need as well.

So, it's a new day.

And we keep going.

And we keep trying.

And we try different things and different ways.

And we tell each other we love each other.

And we keep going. 

Somehow.

Someway.

We keep going.