Confession of an Erased Mom

I may be erased but I still pay attention

Don’t worry. They may have tried to eliminate me from your life, but I still pay attention. I still lurk around the corners to make sure that you are doing okay.

Recent events have brought great joys and many fears. As I’ve written before about how it came to be that I’m not able to see my children or even communicate with them. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have friends that fill me in with what’s going on in their lives. It also doesn’t mean that I’m not going to find ways to check in on them to see how they are doing.

I’ve watched them grow from the peripheral. Not able to have input in daily, yet always there when they needed protecting. Including visiting the school to tell the full story of how cruel the caretaker is and explaining why certain things were happening. I’ve connected with people that could help them through rough times, that I trusted to make sure they were okay.

They are my kids. That has all been my part of being the limited parent. I’ve done what I could, when I could. I’ve never fully stepped away from them, even when I was threatened for being involved at all. They are my kids. I just want them safe, not at risk for suicide, and get the help I know they need.

All of my kids are now over 18 and out of high school now. That’s been a brutal reality to face. I’ve missed so much and my babies aren’t babies anymore. But the good benefits are they are now old enough to start making independent decisions.

My middle child, a son, took it upon himself to enroll in the Army. The upside is that it gets him away from all the toxic misery here and allows him to develop friendships/bonds with others that have no intimate connection with the issues at home.

He graduates from boot camp next week (the 29th) and unfortunately will be placed in a division that will be serving overseas. That means he will deploy to another country and potentially somewhere that will put his life at risk. I won’t be able to help much on the backside of that. My biggest fear is that he will be lost and I’ll never get to repair the damage to hug him again. I pray every day that we are selfishly given the time we need to fully heal.

My daughter just graduated from high school. Just days after she turned 18, she packed her bags and left her toxic grandmother’s home. She’s away from the constant barrage of abuse, thank goodness. I know she’s going to need time to get things straight in her head. I know that things like making that first meal that she wants to eat without criticism and being told it’s selfish will rock her back with relief.

The slow realization of how bad her life has been and how controlled her entire childhood has been will start coming to the front. Eventually, I know she will start questioning everything and start seeing the truth that everything she’s been told has been nothing but lies of control. As hard as it is for me to allow this to all happen on her time, I know I need to just be patient.

My oldest son and I deal with our own struggles. He’s still in recovery from a motor vehicle accident that almost took his life in April. We work together to try to get all of his stuff under control. We talk almost every day and I love that boy with my whole being. I know our time together is precious. He’s been developing into a fine young man.

I am proud of all of them. I’m proud that one is serving our country and following lines of legacy established on both sides of his family. He has always been the daredevil and I knew he had big things ahead of him in life. Even if I worry about the relationship between the two of us, I am proud he’s joined the service. It’s honestly the best choice he could have made for himself.

I’m proud of my daughter for standing up and protecting herself. No one knows yet where her next weeks and months will lead her. Once she gets past the influence of control, I have faith that she will figure out what she wants in this life and will stop at nothing to achieve it.

I know that my oldest will always be there to protect his siblings. He’s working now on building his own dreams, even when life is kicking him down. He’s very stubborn, like his mother, to do it all himself. I can’t be prouder of how he’s pulled himself together and shown such internal fortitude.

The moral here is this…

You can erase the pencil marks on paper all you want. The indent of the pressure and the scratch of the tip will still leave a mark. It may be a shadow of what it once was, but it’s always there. I may be a hidden part in the chapters of their lives for a while, but I’m always there.

I have grieved, always will, the things I have missed. That’s the past and unfortunately, there is no way to get it back. Moving forward, it’s my dream to be able to get that one photo of all of us together. Smiling and laughing together, embraced in a giant hug together. Finally able to move past all the abuses and controls to live out our days celebrating every second we get to build from here forward.

Until that day… I will still be cheering them all from the sidelines of life. Wearing my pride in who they are and who they will become. I will celebrate their successes and cry when I can’t console their failures. I’ll be the silent promoter. Waiting for the days when I can shout how much I love them and how proud I am from the roof tops.

My love for my children will never change. They are my children. I loved them before I met them and I will love them long after I’m gone from this world. That is the one consistent in my every moment, with every beat of my heart and every breath that I take.