People around me keep asking how I'll be celebrating Mother's day this year. My response is usually "work". And when I think about it, do I really even deserve to be celebrated? Sure, I gave birth to two beautiful, intelligent, curious, energetic, amazingly talented children. But this year I can't say honestly to myself or anyone else that I've been a mom worthy or praise. I'm so not the believer of the idea that people deserve things just because. And while its wonderful that anyone would praise my efforts in motherhood. If this were a class, I'm sure I'd be failing.
For starters I spend 60% of my time either at work or asleep. Even when I lived with my kids our time was limited to random afternoons and my days off. That's only if I got the sleep I needed. Last month I decided to leave their father and the residence we shared, leaving all the burden on him to carry. I left him but hurt them in the process. I left them to "fix me". How selfish is that? Granted I remind myself that I am becoming a better person for them. But its not as if I've entered rehab or some mental facility, I just left. No explanation that I could (or do) give could be enough to heal their hearts. Regardless of whether I toss in bed every night thinking of them and longing to hold them in my arms, it doesn't matter because I'm not there. Not everyday like I should be. Like a good mom would be. Its the eternal struggle of womanhood it seems. To endure an existence of nonexistence for the sake of your children's joy or to rip it all to shreds in search of your own and eventually theirs. Does the end justify the means?
I left knowing the hurt I'd cause and did it anyway because I can't be good to them if I'm not good to begin with. A person so full of hurt can (and will) only hurt those around them if they remain so. And time is proving that I made the "right" decision for me right now but what about us? What about them? Will they eventually forgive me for abandoning them? Will they overlook the months they couldn't cry on my shoulders? Will they forgive me for not being there when they wake up sick in the middle of the night and I'm not there to comfort them? There's so many questions that run through my mind. And I pretend to not feel the repercussions of my actions, until I am alone laying in the dark holding my pillow wishing it was my little girl. Wishing I could be holding my son's hand as he lays figiting besides me fighting the onslaught of sleep. There are nights I get off early enough to be there at bed time and so I go there and damn near get lost in their essence every time. What it doesn't take to pull me away from the peace they provide.
One day, I hope it will be better. I will be better for them. And maybe we'll end up one big happy. Until that day, I won't celebrate that which I do not deserve.
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