Day Three.

I’m sitting here, watching my son. Observing his innocence, his joy, his creativity, his childlike wonder. I’m wondering how all of this is going to fuck him up.

“Hi mommy.” He just said in the softest, sweetest voice.

Oh god. I’ve come undone.

Do I hold in all of my tears? Be the strong one? Or do I just let it out and have him witness the falling apart of his mother? His very own safety blanket. Now doesn’t seem the appropriate time to teach a toddler that emotional expression is safe when I myself don’t feel safe enough to feel what I am. Nor does it feel right to hold it all in while attempting to create space for his personal regulation. I’m not a very good blanket right now.

The pings on my heart only pile up the longer I witness him. Maybe if I just leave the room for a moment, release the pressure valve, let a few tears fall and head back in like our entire world didn’t just crumble beneath our feet… maybe then he won’t be affected by me.

Cause he’ll definitely be affected by this. By the choices his father made that failed us as a family. By these imminent changes. By the inability to understand firsthand what a loving, healthy relationship is. But he won’t be negatively affected by my actions. I refuse to be that source. I will be the most honest and loyal thing he will ever know. The most solid thing he’ll ever know. I bet my whole life on it.

God, he is so pure. He deserves so much better than this. My heart is now breaking for him and he doesn’t even know it.