***WARNING: This post contains graphic material that may be triggering to those who are currently suffering with a mental illness. If you are coming to my blog by way of a postpartum depression search, I ask that you do not read this post.
“This is absolutely the last time” she shouted in her mind as she wiped the blood from her thighs and tears off her cheeks.
A Half hour earlier…
“Momma, I poop in pants” he shouted from atop the stairs.
It was the second straight day in a row that he had an accident.
She rolled her eyes in both disappointment and anger. She took in a cleansing breath to ease her racing heart before grabbing his hand and walking towards the bathroom.
It was very unlike him but she never scolded him.
Thoughts whirled in her head constantly and at times it’s hard to focus on the world around her. Yet those thoughts are always interrupted by his urgent needs to fix “boo-boo’s” and clean up messes and eating and finding Elmo on T.V.
“My God, he’s doing this for my attention” she thought
As she washed his bottom and legs she could feel warm guilty tears streaming down her face. She wiped them away quickly so he wouldn’t notice.
With a crack in her voice she said “Ok, you need a nap now.”
And he obliged.
After she read him a story and kissed the top of his head, she ran to her refuge in the bathroom. She made sure to lock the door then she pressed her face forcefully on the ceramic tile.
The cold hardness grounded the thoughts that infected her head.
She reached for the scissors and watched as the anger and guilt and shame and depression oozed from the cuts she made on her thighs
I deserve this.
I’m a shitty Mom.
I deserve this.
I deserve this.
I don’t want to do this anymore.
I can’t do this anymore.
I can’t do this anymore.
I need to be stronger.
He needs me.
I need him.
“This is absolutely the last time” she shouted in her mind as she wiped the blood from her thighs and tears off her cheeks.
He was already fast asleep when she slid into his bed and curled her body around him. She tickled the side of his cheek that still had sticky remnants of jam from lunch time and his chubby fingers still clutched the tail of his stuffed tiger.
She didn’t want to wake him when she leaned in closer to him and whispered
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for being a bad Momma to you. I know that you don’t like me very much right now because my mind is sick.”
And without opening his eyes he said.
“I love Momma. I love my Momma”
She grasped onto him tightly and he squeezed her back.
She was wrong.
He loved her no matter what.
Prompt: Write a short piece – 600 words max – that begins with the words, “This was absolutely the last time” and ends with “She was wrong.”
I know I was supposed to end this piece with “She was wrong” but I had a hard time ending it that way. Sorry if I broke the rules.
PS. Can you spare a moment to vote for me? I was nominated for Circle of Moms Top 25 Mental Wellness Mom Blogs. Pretty please with cheese?!
This is powerful and allowed me to see the mind of a woman who is hurt, who has such low self-esteem that she needs to hurt herself to keep her head above water. She’ll do it again and again without help and hope. Very real and heartbraking.
Visiting from TRDC.
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Kim.
My heart breaks for you when I read this. You are not a bad mom. You are struggling, yes. But not as a mom. You are a good mom. The end.
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This is so good and so sad. I could relate to these feelings more than I’d like to admit. Excellent writing! It’s amazing their capacity to love us no matter what. It’s what hurts the most when you hear about real abuse of a child.
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Honey, I’m teared up. My heart hurts so bad that you have to suffer. But you ARE a good mama. And I know that boy knows you adore and love him. You’ve got a lot of people behind you, even a million miles away in Texas. xoxo
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So powerful. You are a fabulous mom and your boy is reminding you of it.
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Such a strong voice. My heart and stomach ache from reading this. So sad. The writing shows the emotion so beautifully. This one will stay with me a long time.
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There are tears in my throat as I read this. You are so not a bad mama. Not even.
I love you friend.
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That was very intense. You are a wonderful mother. Never lose sight of that
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Sending you big fat love.
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You are not a bad mommy! I’ve been there done that with you – struggled all my life with low self esteem, anxiety, depression and single parenting. Hang in there. Your little one loves you unconditionally and there is no right or wrong way to parent, you just have to find your way.
Stay strong, you are a good mother and your child loves you regardless of how you feel any day of the week.
{hugs}
http://www.bethhorn73.blogspot.com
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They knew better than we do. We are good moms, we just have a hard time with it and a hard time seeing it. Love that he gave you that love when you needed it.
Much love to you, my friend.
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Chills. And incredible love to you. And that chubby handed little boy. God, this is powerful.
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Powerful. Your writing is beautiful, intense and evokes feeling. This post impacted me in a profound way. Thank you. And you are a wonderful mother. Your boy is lucky.
Crystal
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(Hugs) my friend. You are a great mother to Chunky. He’s a lucky and precious boy to have you as his Momma.
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This was so powerful! I was really moved by it. I know all too well the stress from raising kids. It seems that I am dealing with their poop and pee every single day. One is 6 and the other is 3. I sometimes lose my patience with them. Thank you for sharing your words and letting us see your perspective.
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I was holding my breath…WOW!
You were really able to capture the words that express the pain thats caused as a result of mental illness…I read somewhere once that between 2 to 3 million people cut, self-harm themselves which includes anorexia and bulimia! I’m a bit of a statistics goofball ~TMI!
oh, and you’ve got my vote!
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Wow, Kim. This was an amazing post. Just as everyone above said, you are a great mom. Remember that.
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Boy am I totally blown away by this piece. If I might add I think you captured the depression; that uncontrollable voice in the head that traps one in a revolving door of negative thought.
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oh Kim. yes, she was wrong. she is a very, VERY good momma. the best, actually. wish she could know that in her heart.
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Oh Kim. Hugs. Love. Tears. It breaks my heart that you deal with this. My tears overflow with love for you and for your pain. I can tell you though, just from working on your blog and the love I read in the emails when working with your picture for your header? You are a GREAT mom. You really are. I’m glad that he gave you the validation you needed so badly at this moment.
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Thank you for being honest. I hate it when I read stuff that has no respect for the real world we live it. That was stunning and it was heartbreaking as well.
This is my first attempt at a blog hop fiction writers challenge. It was scarier than hell. Writing in first person and exposing all my secrets was easier than this!
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I am in tears over here and want to reach over and give you a hug. Is that creepy since it’s my very first time here? oh well!
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What an intense piece, I can easily relate to the characters emotions. My method of coping was different but the results were the same. The inner dialoge many of us suffer from is so damaging that we are lost…unable to see reality. And then….when we least expect it our babies whisper the truth to us. I’m glad you heard your truth.
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Your writing is unbelievably good, and yet heartbreaking. Chunky loves his momma, for sure. No matter what.
And – I voted!
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I’m so teary! My heart is full for you.
I read your words, I heard you.
You are loved and you are good.
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This is so beautifully told, but heartbreaking. So raw, so honest, and powerful.
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I know you put the disclaimer at the top, but I still read it. And I do cry and sometimes it brings up my issues. But mostly it makes me feel like I am not alone or crazy. And that means more then anything else. This post is all too familiar. Thanks for your honesty.
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This is so powerfully heartbreaking. I hope you know what your son knows, that you are a great mom.
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Oh my goodness. You are SO NOT a bad mom. I know cutting. I did it when I was younger… I had no control over what others were doing to me and the pain being inflicted by them and my own mind. The pain I created by cutting was something I could control. It was my pain — I got to own it. The blood was so much easier to deal with than the screaming in my head. You deserve better than that. If you ever need to talk… you’ve got a new friend. Thank you so much for sharing such a private part of yourself… your courage is truly inspiring.
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You are an inspiration.
No words will ever express how proud I am of you.
Never.
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You are not a shitty mother. But you know that. It was the illness talking.
I love your honesty, your courage, you.
Thank you for sharing this again with us for Blog Bash. xo
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I read this when it was initially published but I needed to read it again today. Oh Kim…will we ever be completely mended? Will our kids remember any of this?
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Kim, you are a great mom. I wish the depression wouldn’t lie to you. Chunky knows how wonderful you are. Kids are so wise. They know exactly what to say when we need it most.
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such an honest, heartbreaking, yet uplifting post. What a sweet son you have!
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Hi Kim,
This is the first time I’ve read your blog (thank you for linking up with us at Blog Bash – I can see this post is one of your favorites because it’s raw, real, and honest). I’m not sure if you’ve read any of my posts or know my background or not and although we have different “symptoms” or ways of coping I can very much relate to the double-sided mirror that is motherhood. So – so – so hard to be present in the moment with a child who needs your attention yet at the same time carrying around this big tangle of emotional emptiness or confusion or sadness – and where these two intersect – usually causes the mom to feel like she’s crapola. But the good news is – from my perspective – (if you read the “My Mother’s Body” post on my site) my mom struggled mightily with her issues, and what ended up happening to me – her child – is I became profoundly sympathetic to people who struggle – in a healthy way – because I watched her from the sidelines, probably just like your child is watching you struggle. And I used all of what she taught me in what I think is a positive way – and in my parenting. So don’t worry – it’s not all bad, sometimes.
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This is such a powerful post! Powerful. I’d like to say that I could never relate to what you’ve described. I’d like to say that have never felt that feeling that inspires urges for outward pain in exchange for the more painful kind that happens on the inside. But that would be a lie. Thank you for linking up this post.
Oh, and I wanted to say thank you for being so honest in writing about your PPD. The post I wrote on my blog yesterday, titled “PPD” was inspired by you and other women like you who have been so honest with their struggles. Thank you giving me a voice to speak.
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Such a powerfully honest post. Sending my love to you. I’ll be honest, this is a world I don’t understand, but I’m drawn to you. I think about you often in the short time I have stumbled across your blog. Each day I find myself searching for new posts and I don’t know why. Is it your honesty, your full heart you are willing to share even when others might judge? Is it that I in some ways have some fear that I, too have some struggles that I’m maybe denying? I have no idea. But at times my heart hurts for you and others it sings. I pray for your strength. That you find it when you need it the most. Hugs, Kim.
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