My boys are a lot older than the ones in the photo but I chose that one firstly because it’s my favourite and second because it was during the happiest period of our lives.
We’ve always been tight the four of us. Through thick and thin we weathered it all together with smiles, laughter and love. We didn’t have it easy but I tried to make sure they didn’t want for anything and never suffer. In spite of the challenges I loved every moment I spent with my babies. I love my babies period. Life was hard but we were happy.
Last February I attempted to commit suicide. I’ve been on a decline over the last couple of years, sought help from mental health professionals. Voluntarily went into a psych ward for a while. I thought everything would be fine once I got out, not knowing the evil that was awaiting me back home. My boyfriend. Ex boyfriend now. Regarding him, suffice to say bipolar, alcoholic and dependent. Also beat me up when he got really, really drunk. After several visits to jail cells he got the message and stopped beating me and sought out other means of abuse. Add this to being suddenly diagnosed with #BPD as an adult, depression and anxiety. The daily challenge of raising autistic children. I snapped. Next thing I know I wake up two days later in the same psych ward I was before talking to a judge who’s asking me if I regret what I did. Automatically I said yes without knowing why. It was like I was there but I wasn’t. I was attended by the same psychiatrist that attended me the first time I was there. It all seemed surreal. I was supposed to be dead! Turns out my ex boyfriend called for an ambulance risking being caught, a judge issued a permanent restraining order against him in my favour after the last time he beat me up.
Child welfare took my kids the next day and I haven’t had them home since. I only get to see them 1 hour a week. At first I was told by Child welfare that I should go get therapy and in a matter of months I’ll get my kids back. Halfway through my therapy they tell me that my kids will remain under their charge for an extended period of 2 years. This brought me straight to the psych ward emergency room. Major panic attack. Two hours of crying in literal pain as if my heart was being crushed. I was freaking out over the whole thing but also about the fact that I have never cried like that in my life.
I still continue to go to therapy. Which is actually a group therapy. I’m an empath. Anyone who is too will understand how awful the experience is. Anyone who is not I’ll explain it to you briefly, I absorb the emotions of those around when caught off guard or when I am at my weakest. I have to constantly keep a tough wall around me to somehow detach myself from all the external emotions. But being in the fragile state that I am now you’ll understand that I’m not doing it well lately. I can’t tell you the number of times I had to run out of the room because I couldn’t breathe.
I spend my weekends rolled up into a ball in my bed crying. Missing my babies like crazy. Only to get up Monday to go through the week of therapy and visits with my children all over again. The visits by tthe way are bittersweet. I’m excited to see them, hug and kiss them as much as I can in my allotted hour, when time’s up, my insides are all tied up and I start to cry unconsciously.
Somebody said, this too will pass.