As the end of this year approaches..
I started reflecting on every single thing that happened in these 365 days, the good and the bad. I remember how hopeless I felt at the beginning of the year, how everything seemed to be going so wrong. Failed relationships, failed jobs, failed friendships, and a whole lot of drama.
I felt that I had failed as a mother, as a daughter, as a friend, as the child God wanted me to be. I had sent my son to a rehabilitation center out of town, almost 4 hours away from home. I was torn to pieces, worrying day and night. Crying every time I remembered he wasn’t home. It was the first time he had been away from home for so long, so far I couldn’t go see him. I had spent Christmas without him, trying to put on a smile for the family. It wasn’t fair, I wanted him home with me.
My daughter was in and out of the house. She wanted to be independent, but we all know that’s harder than we think. I worried for her well-being all the time. Was she eating? Was she oversleeping? Was she not getting enough sleep? Was she out all night? Was she drinking and driving? Was she okay? Anything could happen. I couldn’t sleep.
My anxiety and depression hit me hard this year. I wanted to stay in bed and wallow in my pain. Who cared anyway?! But I didn’t. Instead, I focused on my health. I kept reminding myself that if nobody cared about me, I did. My little one did. He’s been my strength through all the bs going on. I kept myself busy working out and that helped me get out of bed every morning to see my baby’s face right next to me. That was all I needed to keep going.
Everything was better when my son was back home. My daughter was with us too. That’s all I wanted.
But the devil never sleeps. He knows my weaknesses and wasn’t gonna let us be at peace.
We had some rough days. I know that no family is perfect, but mine was broken. I couldn’t fix it.
I wasn’t only battling with my own mind, but also with my kid’s mental health. Drug use only altered their brain chemistry, therefore triggering mental health issues at an earlier age. My 16-year-old was diagnosed with depression and anxiety and the 18-year-old with bipolar disorder. It was not easy for me. And it has definitely not been easy for them.
There’s so much good information on the internet that can be used to understand what we are going through. But teenagers don’t use their phones for that. They see so much crap on social media and believe everything the friends tell them. It’s so hard to help them understand what they are going through when they think you’re the bad guy.
I had countless sleepless nights. I worried if they were taking other drugs, or if they wanted to hurt themselves. Every time we had an argument, I couldn’t sleep through the night. I woke up with this constant fear of finding one of them lifeless in their room.
The year went by with countless visits to the psychologists, counselors, doctors, and the probation office.
Don’t get me wrong, we also had good days. Many of them. Those are the ones in pictures and social media posts.
And in April I made one of the best decisions of my life. I decided to go back to church. With the help of some missionaries knocking at my door, they convinced me to visit their church and I did. My kids weren’t so happy about it, but I was. This helped me refocus and restore my faith.
I’m not gonna say that the problems were over because they didn’t end. But I will say that I obtained this peace of mind and heart that I had been longing for. I found my way back to God.
My little one and I got baptized in May. It was the most wonderful experience ever. I knew that I had been absolved of all my past sins, no matter how big or how small they seemed to me. I felt that I had gotten a second chance at getting it right this time.
This change of lifestyle was great for me, but teenagers don’t like change. They didn’t like that I changed rules in the house and that a lot of things that they did before were not acceptable anymore.
The fights continued, my daughter left again. But I stayed focused on Christ. He was my strength now. I opened my heart to accept Jesus and my Heavenly Father would never leave my side. I decided that I wasn’t gonna worry on things that I can’t control. I had already done enough for my kids and now it was their turn to learn from their mistakes. It wasn’t easy either. I mean, they’re still my babies. I don’t like it when they hurt.
It wasn’t fair for my little one to see all this crap, all the time.
I kept busy with my little one. He needed my attention. With school, church events and kickboxing, we were all busy most of the time. I was babysitting and the little boys helped me distract the mind from any problems.
My daughter finally came home and found a job. I am so proud of her behaving better and being more responsible. We’ve had our ups and downs but things seem to be better now.
My boys seemed to be doing better, but mental health is no joke. They kept using marijuana and wouldn’t take their medication. We started arguing again. I was stressed with job searching and financial problems, but teenagers don’t get that. They were also battling their own mental health issues and adding extra anxiety with substance use.
Plus, having one defiant teenager, affects the behavior of the other teenagers.
My oldest son turned 18 in November. I thought things would be better, he is a very intelligent kid and mature. But refusing to take his medication and drug use affect his judgment.
He isn’t home today. I worry that he isn’t taking his medication. I worry every day about what he’s doing. If he’s eating, if he’s being safe on the streets, if he’s doing drugs, if he’s okay. He doesn’t understand how much I love him. He doesn’t want to accept that bipolar disorder isn’t going anywhere. It’s not gonna get better with drug use. It’s not gonna get better without treatment. All I wanted was to take care of him. But this demon won the battle. We couldn’t get along, he wasn’t doing good with terrible mood swings and aggressive behavior.
I’m not the best at dealing with these type of things, I get upset too. I get stressed and angry. I get mad because my little one doesn’t have to worry about his older brothers doing drugs. But he does. He doesn’t deserve that.
I sent my son away with his dad. I regret it every day. I know he’s in better care with me, his mother. I’ve taken care of him since the first day I knew I was pregnant. I loved him before I even met him.
It broke my heart to see him leave. He still doesn’t talk to me. He doesn’t reply to my messages. I don’t deserve this.
2019 kicked my butt, but this year is going to be different. I know it. It has to be.
I have to focus on the good.
I have to be better for my little one.
I have to be better for me.
This year is going to be my year.
My year of success, financial stability, emotional stability, better health, I’m coming up stronger than ever.
2019 has given me the last kick to the face.
Hello 2020! Be good to me.
Happy New Year everyone!!! God bless your hearts and families.