Numb

Tonight, I am numb.

Reading a book about being raised by a narcissist has made me… quiet. Thoughtful.

I realize I have been sabotaging myself. I am, at once, trying to impress and trying to fuck up all at the same time.

There are a few people I want to send this book to- out of a new understanding.

I’m tired and there is so much to do tomorrow and the next day… my mental health day was spent a month ago. No breaks until next Saturday. And then I have my kids to be with…

I read to Jake tonight. He is struggling with reading. His body is so big now, not a toddler on my lap, but a boy. He cannot decipher “television” in the book he is reading. He gets angry and throws the book to the floor.

I’m heartbroken with his frustration.

We sit together and read the rest of his books. He only misses a few words- I no longer make him tap them out but do the phonics myself.

The tears dry on his face. I can remember being so frustrated and sad I gave up. I still give up. I hold him close and hug him. Great job reading, I tell him.

He’s in first grade and hasn’t passed kindergarten skills. His brother’s talk about chapter books at dinnertime. He knows where he is. I want to make it okay. He can remember every word to every song he’s ever heard.

He has the ability to carry a tune.

How do I separate all the negative images passed down to me to create whole children? Can I or am I dreaming?

I only want to be a good mom. The rest can go to hell.