Poison

I know they are whispering. I see it in their face. I know they are judging, for how could they not? My son is running wild, causing mayhem in his path. I'm tired. Tired of yelling, tired of trying, tired of feeling like the bad guy, tired of feeling hopeless, tired of failing. I let him run free while I shut my eyes but as I rest, I feel the disappointment around me.

"Can't she control him? Why is she doing nothing? I would never let my child do that. That kid is loud. He is a bully. He is crazy and not in a good way. He is a bad example. I don't want him around my children. I don't want him around me."

I lay there in and out of consciousness, not sure if their words are in my head or spoken softly behind my back, but it hurts the same. They don't want my son. They must not want me. They hate me.

My son is in trouble again. I'm terrified of discipline. They expect me to mess up. They expect me to lose my temper. I have been told one too many times that I'm nothing but my anger. Despite the years of progression, they only see the me I used to be. Now I'm a coward. I've been told that letting him cry is abuse from one. I've been told that I'm too soft from another. I don't know what I'm doing. I am stuck. It's easier to do nothing and let others handle it. I'm too scared.

"You are pathetic." They judge. I judge myself too.

They all have someone but I feel so alone. Instead of lifting me up, they complain. They point out all the bad, or maybe that was me. I am painfully aware of the bad. Pointing it out is unnecessary. Their eyes are all on me. My imagination puts thoughts into their heads.

"Terrible mother! Lazy. Fat. Stupid. Unlovable. We are better off without you." Their unspoken words ricochet around my brain. I don't fit in. I can't spend time with them. They are way better than me. I don't belong here. I want to be with them and laugh with them but inviting myself to play their game makes me vulnerable to their distaste. Being so worried I won't be good enough draws me back to my corner. Alone. My anxiety is in control. It only takes a few spoken comments to send me spiraling.

“You are overreacting. Why don’t you actually take care of your own son for once? Leave and take your him with you. We don’t want you here."

I hate them all! No, I only hate myself. I want to fall. I want to drown. I want to stop hurting. I want to stop thinking. My son deserves better than me. Anyone is better than me. He tries to comfort me but I send him away so he doesn't have to see me in pain, so he doesn't see me weak.

Alone. All alone. I've pushed everyone away including God. I don't care. No one loves me. I won't be missed. My Anxiety eats at me. Drowning me in sorrow. Anxiety is my poison and it's killing me slowly. I run. I find a quiet place to lay down and breath my last breath. I run my wrists along the barbed wire fence, feeling it prick against my skin. I picture myself being brave enough to push harder and let my feelings flow away but a song rings through my head as tears fall. The song tells me not to give up yet. I try pushing it out of my head, but it sticks with me. I fight the urge to die. I wobble to my feet, ashamed of my weakness. I want to go home. I want to hide my face from the judging eyes. I stand tall and decide to go on for another day, not because I want to, but because I can't do anything else. I can't make my loved ones find me like that. I can't cause their tears. I don't hate them, only myself.

I survive a day, and one more day. My heart is a rock. No one can fix me but me. My anxiety and depression run the show, so I avoid everyone. Leaving my bed is a chore. I pray for someone to come to me. No one comes. God sends no one. I have to find strength in myself. Pushing my doubts and my fears away I focus on my tiny, wobbling steps. Getting out of bed...Point for me. Getting dressed...Point for me! Brushing my hair...Points for me. Going outside...Two points for me.

A stranger at the store compliments my son's behavior. I fight to believe it. I am not a perfect mom, but maybe I am not failing. My son tells me I'm the best mom in the universe and the whole city. I am the world to my son. He doesn't notice my mistakes. He still loves me. I guess he needs me. The voices tearing me apart are still there, but they don't puncture the bond that surrounds me and my little boy.

I see how grown-up he is getting. I notice how advanced he is at recognizing emotions. He genuinely wants to be a well-behaved child. He is confused right now. he's trying to figure out this crazy life way too early. He's thrown from home to home with different rules, different people. He's not a bad kid. He is the best child I could ask for. Yes, he is going through a hard time. Yes, sometimes I have no idea what I'm doing. Yes, sometimes I cannot keep up with him. yes, I am doing the best I can with what I have. No, I would not trade him for anything, and I won't leave him alone on this Earth.

Other mothers can point their fingers and see my flaws and they can see the flaws of my child. Have they taken the time to see his soul? Have they listened as he says, "You are the most beautiful mommy in the whole world?" Have they been there after he has made a mistake and seen him cry because he knows that he did something wrong and he feels like a terrible boy? Have they seen how many times I have I've held my screaming child trying to comfort him because he's so confused in this life at such a young age? Do they even try to look past the loud and the obnoxious habits of my son?

Before you judge me, before you are so quick to tell a mother how to raise her child, look at your own life. What can you fix? What can you change? How can you help? Being a mother, especially a single mother, is so difficult even without other people pointing out every imperfection. You don't hear the negative words inside that mother's head. You might not even realize she is struggling until it is too late. You can't see the anxiety she has. You can't know the doubt going on in her head already. You don't know how much she already feels like an outcast.

Say what you want. Point your fingers. Judge me, but I won't drink your poison. I will survive. I don't need your approval. My baby loves me, and I am learning to love me and that is what I can offer right now. I am learning how to ignore the voices in my head. I will also ignore those words spoken out loud by those who don’t understand. That doesn't mean I won't always try to be a better mother. It just means that I am going to be proud of every step I take in the right direction and I will joy in every step my son takes in the right direction. The progress might be slower than is socially expected but I will still be proud as long as we are progressing in the right direction. I'm spitting out the poison of anxiety. I am a good mother that truly cares for my son and that is enough.

Any mother who feels bombarded with negativity, who feels like you are not enough, know that you are not alone. Your child was sent to you for a reason. No other person in the world knows your child the way you do. No other parent has walked your path. Listen to advise but stay true to what you think is right when it comes to your child. Don't drink the poison. You are enough! They don’t know you. They can judge you all they want but they cannot change who you are. You can judge yourself but be kind because being a mother can be really difficult. There is no black and white/right and wrong in parenting. Do the best you can and take note of how far you and your child go. Keep being you and keep loving your children. You don't need to listen to the anxiety and depression that comes with feeling like you are never going to be good enough. You are amazing! You are a mother. Don’t give up.