I have absolutely no idea how delusional I must have been signing up for this life as a mother. There are days I wonder what did God think entrusting me with children. For one I am a very unstable person and have suffered from depression for many years. It was only diagnosed after my youngest son was born. Secondly, I don’t think I have and will ever grow up. The children have always been more like friends to me than me being an authoritative parent. If only there were an entrance exam into being a mother I would never have qualified and they would rather have being assigned to someone able and stable.
Is it that in our spiritual state we think that life on earth as a human being can’t be that difficult to fulfill Or are we here in this body with certain personality traits to learn something to deepen our spirit and teach someone else a valuable lesson? What kind of lesson have I taught my sons? I will never know what I taught Emile, I made so many mistakes with him that I can’t even bear thinking about it. If his death by suicide is any indication of my mothering skills then I am a complete failure.
My youngest son never had much of a mother but at least he had a father who adored him. When my father died in 1996 I lost the plot completely and because of anti-psychotic medication prescribed by a psychiatrist my kids had a crazy dysfunctional time. While under the influence of the drugs I cut my wrists to the bone, killed myself in a car accident (an ambulance passed the scene of the accident and another motorist who saw it happen flagged them down and they were able to resuscitate me) and eventually I landed up in a mental institution. Thank god that didn't last long before the resident psychiatrist realized I was not certifiably insane but only mourning the loss of my father.
What kind of a life did my sons lead with a mother controlled by depression and the insane desperate need to die? I wager the guess not a very hopeful and happy time for them. Is it any wonder my oldest son died by suicide? I think not. His mother was never a good example of normal conventional family life. Please don’t think I feel sorry for myself because I really don’t. The people I feel deep compassion and sadness for are my children and that is why I wonder what possessed me to volunteer for this life.
After I lost Emile my youngest son, Marco, took on the role of my support while I was steadily losing my mind. He was the one who held me and soothed me with comforting words when the unbearable pain threatened to destroy me. That is not the way it is supposed to be because not only did he lose his brother but indirectly his mother yet again. For years I was in no state to be anything more that the crazy wild depressed person looking for a way to join her dead son.
Two years ago his father died and the insane roller coaster ride started again. Thank god I am passed all that, but it took the hate and fear in his face to shock me into reality. Here he is with only me in his life and all I could think about was making him an orphan. The struggle to stay strong and be someone for him to depend on is a very difficult one but I have resolved to be that and nothing will avert me from it.
If we choose our family before we are born there must be some very strange obscure reason why they chose me to give birth to them and I just hope that things happened the way it was destined.
Marco told me not so long ago at least with me there is never a dull moment. I pray it is enough for him to know that even though we are not a conventional and normal family I love him with all my heart.
Blessed Be and Namaste!